Alice or Bill Murray Live Here ...

... because I live in a Wonderland or it's Groundhog Day. I bragged too early. I'm beat. I'm worn out. I'm really, really, really tired.

I go through many stages of fatigue. Initially, I'm on a high. I'm a little tired, but so impressed with my lack of sleep combined with productivity that I end up doing more and more stuff to impress myself with my awesomeness and immortality. Who needs sleep? I, clearly, am above it. Then, I get cranky. This is when after going to bed early to take advantage of Lily sleeping and being drawn out of said sleep half an hour later by a crying baby that I mutter in a hostile voice, "Are you KIDDING me?!" The next day, I transform into hazy Glenda. I say things I don't mean. I can't find the words I need. Instead of attempting conversation or explaining anything, I hang my head, muttering to myself. This is when I'm in a danger zone. Consciousness and unconsciousness are indistinguishable to me - was it real or a dream that I was supposed to take my neighbor's kids to school and instead let them hang out with me all day? (it was a dream!) This is when I realize I haven't showered in a couple of days. That funny smell? It's me. Good heavens - when was the last time I brushed my teeth?! Now comes the "fight it stage". I'm so tired and stinky and unintelligible, but I won't go to bed. I finish all the laundry (secretly hating anyone who wears clothing or sleeps in a bed or takes a shower) and make lists of things I can't possibly do because my body is no longer functioning. I begin eating whatever is a the end of my fingertips because it seems like my life has transformed into one hellishly long day. Finally it happens, I succumb to sleep without my knowledge (aka: pass out). I am completely unaware of this fact and awake hours later to discover that my lovely, adoring, angelic husband had the wisdom to take the baby from my arms, point me toward the bed, and close the door. He sacrificed his own sleep and cared for the baby for the night.

I awoke to birds singing, freaked out that I had slept an entire six hours without feeding the baby. Ahhhh ... the gratitude I felt - the love that poured forth from my veins.

Thank you, Tracy. Thanks for dealing with me when no one else in the world would want to come within ten feet of me!! I love you! At times like that - I know you're strong enough to move mountains!