Knee Deep

My stress levels are off the charts these days. After a solid week of being unable to sleep without assistance from artificial substances, I am now finally sleeping again. Or, I should say, I am finally falling asleep again without help from artificial substances. Only now I snap awake in the wee hours of the morning and feel as though I've gotta get up and DO something. UGH! Neither of the above sleep disturbances actually happened over the weekend, but both Saturday and Sunday morning when I finally got to bed at about 1 am, Daughter decided she needed to be up at 6:45 am (and that Mommy and Daddy needed to be up with her). On the weekdays she frequently sleeps until 8:30am, of course.

Currently, I am knee-deep in boxes and puke, but since I managed to get caught up a bit on paperwork, I'm only about calf-deep in that right now. Daughter has apparently come down with a stomach bug as she carried on the tradition last night of puking at my parent's house on Father's Day. Two of the three Father's Days that we have celebrated since Daughter's birth have involved Daughter throwing up at my parent's house. The first year was when we discovered her peanut allergy after she had a wild reaction to a taste of cheesecake that had peanut butter in it.

Daughter has not had a throwing up illness in over 2 1/2 years. She's actually only been sick about one time in the past 2 1/2 years, but the other time was a nasty cold. Fortunately, she is a neater puker now, which means she can aim, and we've caught most of it in a wastebasket. Fortunately also, we escaped having puke in the car again as we were held up at my parents' house last night while Husband worked on building them a new computer. I had wanted to leave about 15 minutes before the puke event happened (and before we had any inclination that one would happen at all). Good for us that we were not in the car. Bad for them, as it happened on their carpet...and you know that the first round of a good puke-athon is always the biggest. I'll spare you any further description and just sum it up by saying that I'll be loaning them my steam cleaner ASAP.

Meanwhile, the moving plans are going fine except that we are not finding any time to get packed. I've compromised packing in the name of catching up on some paperwork. Now I'm really feeling things starting to close in on me. Also, we just ran into some glitches in the way of house repairs that the buyers of our house want us to fix for them, per their inspection. As part of their request involves fixing apparent hail damage to the roof, we are hoping they end up being minor. *sigh* I have a hard time believing there's hail damage to our roof as we park our cars outside and there has never been any hail damage to them. We'll be getting some roof experts to check this one out. We seem to have bad luck with roofs, as a big fiasco happened with the roof of the last house we sold. But that's another story, and I haven't time to digress that far today.

Oh, did I mention that in the mix of all this stuff, Husband got rear-ended in the car by some Bubble Head? The damage is minor, but we still have to make time to have the car in the shop for a couple days and deal with all the hassle of getting estimates, making phone calls, talking to her insurance, etc. in the midst of all the other business we are trying to tend to.

Furthermore, our weather pattern is starting to reach the nasty point in terms of hot and muggy. It's been suggested (even demonstrated) that violent crimes go up with hot weather and that 92 degrees is the ideal temperature for violence. Folks, our heat indexes are running around 92-98 degrees these days. I've mentioned in previous posts that I don't like hot weather. I don't like it so much, that I've thought myself capable of violent crimes. When the weather is too hot and muggy AND my overall stress levels are soaring, I really oughta just be locked up behind bars, as the potential for committing Harry Carry is great.

I'll end the random brain dump on a sappy note. I recently posted about Son's growing vocabulary. He's added a few more words in the past few days, but the coolest thing is that he is now correctly identifying the colors "lello" (yellow) and "blew" (blue). He's also taking the edge off my stress level by playing the most adorable renditions of hide-and-seek with me, which involve crawling around on the floor and ducking behind furniture and boxes. He also seems to think that he can effectively hide by just buring his face in a pillow or a giant bean bag chair, and since he can't see you, he assumes you can't see him either. It's so cute to watch his crooked little run as he works to keep his balance and hustle behind something to hide while he squeals and looks over his shoulder at me. Then his little "chicken head" pops out to see if I am looking for him. Wish I had a picture to post of his fuzzy little "chicken head" covered with fuzzy blond hair that is getting long enough to stick up all over.

And since I started out talking about puke, this is a good place to end.