I don’t really know where to start this post and I, most certainly, do not know where it will end. I guess that I should begin by saying that, in the last week, I let myself get so overwrought that I actually contemplated giving up something I really love. No, not chocolate. No, not beer.

I thought about giving up this blog.

I used to believe that if you’re going to do something…anything…you had better do it right, but I don’t really have time for that mantra anymore. Now, if I’m going to do something it’s half-assed or nothing at all.

My kids? Well, they get the best of what I can offer. My 25-hour a week job gets second best. then there’s my husband, laundry, cleaning, cooking, errands, volunteering…oh, and this blog. Sometimes I try to sleep, but I don’t even do that well.

I won’t mention that I am overweight and in the worst shape of my life. Wait. I guess I did mention it.

Trust me, out of all of the things for which I am responsible, I would love to give up laundry and cooking most of all. I even like to cook, but the time it takes out of my day is ridiculous. Of course, that’s if it’s going to be done right…which it usually isn’t.

On top of everything, I am looking for additional part-time work in the afternoons. Writing, editing, testing, whatever. I. Need. Cash. So, you know…call me. Who doesn’t want a haggard, stressed-out insomniac on their payroll? Oh, all of you then.

I am tired of living in a whirlwind. I am tired of doing so much, but doing nothing well. I’m tired of being sub-standard and not living up to my potential. I’m tired of being fat. I’m tired of hating myself. I’m tired of feeling weak.

I want to write. I want to read books. I want to go to Yoga class. I want to put my pictures into albums. I want to make a life list. I want to spend time with family and friends. I want to run. I want to do better.

I know that some people handle and accomplish far more than I do. Good for them. I can’t do it. I should get credit for my admission.

Unfortunately, I can barely find time to brush my hair, let alone do anything I want to do. And, unfortunately, there is nothing elective to give up other than this blog.

This special corner of my world, with the best support a girl could ask for, is the only thing I can quit.

But, before I do…I am open to suggestions. If you can help me save this place…this thing I love…that is so dear to me, I will be forever indebted. Just don’t count on me having time to pay you back.

**UPDATE**
To all of you who called, texted, e-mailed and commented…thank you. Your support proved to me that I’ll never be able to stop.

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Ali was watching “Barney”.

We used to give her empty coffee cans and let her drum on them, but on this morning she had flipped one of them over and was using it as a stool just a few feet from the television. She had her hands on her knees and her head was tilted backward as she stared at the screen.

I was preparing to leave so the two of us could go to story-time at the library. It was the only place where I could watch her socialize and consistently see her be the last in line when they handed out a craft after the story. She never pushed or stepped in front of anyone. She would always turn and look at me and I would wave my hand forward and mouth, “Go! Get up there!”, but she never would.

I moved past her and her coffee-can chair to an open window and noted her frozen, I’ve-been-sucked-into-Barney state. I heard the sound of branches being chipped up by a tree service down the block. I heard dogs barking and cars driving by. After I shut the window and locked it, the phone rang. Ali didn’t blink an eye.

“Hello?”

My husband didn’t waste time with a greeting, “Hey, do you have the TV on?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Two planes hit the World Trade Center. Turn on CNN.”

I grabbed the remote and sat on the corner of the coffee table. As I changed the channel. I glanced down to notice a death-glare from my three year old.

“Wow”, I said. “That looks like an awful freak accident.”

“I don’t think it’s an accident.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think anyone knows what’s going on.”

“Well, we’re on our way to story-time so I’ll throw a tape in the VCR and watch it when I get home and let you know what I find out.”

I unwrapped a new tape, inserted it, hit record and we made our way to the library.

Ali and I found an empty space on the floor where we could peacefully settle in for the duration, but after ten minutes, story-time was abruptly canceled when an employee slipped the reader a note. It was on a small, yellow piece of paper and as she read it silently, I wished I could see through to the other side.

The woman reading calmly pulled off her glasses and said, “We’re going to stop here. You should all go home.”

Ten minutes later I was, again, in my living room. I stood in front of the television and hit the power button, I saw the second tower fall. I fell at the same time as it did.

I remember the pain as I crashed to my knees and cried out. I remember holding my daughter in my arms and reassuring her despite my sadness. I remember being very scared.

I sat in front of the television that entire day. I watched the towers fall over and over.

As the afternoon sun began to set, I went to the window and lifted it. There were no dogs barking, no cars driving past…not even the faint hum of an air conditioner. Just silence.

Then I flipped over Ali’s coffee can and turned on Barney.

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You may remember how, recently, my mom called my niece’s Volvo, a “vulva“. And, a few days ago she was telling me a story about my oldest sister getting seasick when she called a catamaran, a “Cameron”. Like my sister was floating around on a person’s back.

Yesterday, my mom was telling me about a pair of shoes.

We were sitting at her kitchen table when she mentioned that she got some new clogs. She was trying to describe them to me when she finally said, “Oh, you know, they’re those Gators that you and the kids have.”

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Much to my husband’s chagrin, I am a Twitter addict. I love to curl up on the couch with my laptop after the kids have gone to bed and read what everyone is doing in 140 characters or less. I don’t know why I like it, but I do.

Another great mystery is why I like to go on Twitter after I take my Ambien. Some people sleep-eat, some people make phone calls, I even know someone who took their dog to the dog park and lost him because she was on Ambien. I feel the need to say it wasn’t me. Anyway, some people do crazy things on that medicine. I just send tweets.

Last night, after my girly part surgery, I went on Twitter on Dilaudid (also know as Hydromorphone). I did NOT take Dilaudid AND Ambien, because then I would be dead.

Here, for your enjoyment, are a few of my Dilaudid tweets…

I’m on Dilaudid,daf; everylook lop;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

@secretagentmama But I’m halluciantiaon in my liviner oom and I’ve having fn. I jusst saw a buffalo

I have to pee and I hoptea I don’t fall asleep in there like I did earlign.

I dind’dt fall saleep in the bathroom PROGRSSS! Now, eating blueberyy bread and I ckind of what to marry kit.

I thought my hsubnad was hust bringing me wi-ne. I was like, “Wahtewa are you CRAWZZAZZZYY?” His handmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm was empty.

I feel asleep on “hand”.

I just said to my husband athat I vfeel like everything I’m telling you is from a dream.. He said, “That’s ture.” I’m really confursted.

@secretagentmama duid you just calle me Jar Jar Binks? Because I think you called me Jar Jar Binks, when clearly I am Yoda.

My head is like a bobble toy right now=============================

That’s not the window!

just asked my husbna if the guy on TV is named, “Major” and he said, “No, it’s Rex”. Dude I was THAT close.

Thank goodness, I’m no longer in pain. Though you can still look forward to the Ambien tweets. I live for your amusement, or as I told a friend earlier…I’m here to confurst you.

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