I finally, finally, fell asleep a bit after five this morning. Ahh, blessed sleep! Curled up under the covers with my favorite pillow, snug and safe and ready to catch up on all the sleep I have missed.
Oh, wait . . . you’re probably wondering what time my son woke up, right?
Gonna be a long day!
In an only marginally related aside, I think I’m going to need to start keeping a bruise journal. You know, where I make note of any and all bumps and knocks that may result in unexplained bruises later on. There are two HUGE bruises on the top of my left foot, and I have zero clue as to how they got there. Perhaps I did something last night.
More to come.
It’s 4:07 in the morning and I am exhausted. But I’m not asleep, oh no. My body needs sleep, my mind needs sleep. I crave sleep.
Yeah. Still not asleep.
Several good and positive things have happened lately. Most notably, I’ve found an excellent ABA trained therapist for my son and we are just beginning an intensive intervention program. I am hopeful and encouraged for his future progress. Even just with the small amount we’ve done so far, and even accounting for the “extinction burst” (also known as the “it’ll get worse before it gets better” and/or the Roadhouse effect [truly an enjoyable and highly quotable, really bad movie, but I digress]), I’m already seeing an improvement. He wants to be able to communicate effectively, and I can actually see a pinpoint of light at the end of the tunnel.
My thoughts are quite jumbled, due in large part to my significant sleep deprivation. So I imagine this post will be disjointed and rambling, but that’s fine by me. I’m also on the tail end of a seriously concentrated dose of antibiotics, to knock out the nasty case of strep throat I picked up from my son. Nasty vile things, antibiotics are. These in particular are, I think, contributing to my insomnia, in addition to giving me some seriously fucked up dreams during the brief times I manage to sleep. Last night, for example, I dreamed that I dabbed a potent, pink neurotoxin on the inside of my wrist with a makeup brush, in a sincere but misguided attempt to keep John Goodman from nibbling said wrist every time he saw me at the mall.
Yeah. I don’t know either!
In my haze of insomnia, I’ve read two books just this evening, and I’ve played countless games of Blossom. A grand time was had by all. By me. By all of me. I’m making lists, as well. Might as well be a odd combination of productive and decidedly not productive.
I need sleep!
Yes, I do.