Beyond Grumpy

Four nights with almost no sleep, and last night was the worst. Mali got a less-than-24-hour bug that gave her a raging fever all afternoon and night, and all she could do unless hooked onto the tap was cry miserably. Poor sweet baby.

This morning she was fine ("Need some help?" "Want to see Mommy?") but I was not. And still am not. I am so irritable that I had to stop myself from writing at least five incendiary emails that would have gotten me kicked off each related list or group. Coffee itself did not help, Bad Moms' Coffee did not help, either. Possibly because the main person I talked to has some very serious shit going on in her life, really needs help, probably doesn't want help, and I don't know how to help.

Like her, almost everyone I know is worse off than me (though they are dealing with their lives more cheerfully, so I am complaining to you, oh blog--and ever-patient Ep. Thank you thank you).

I called up my mom thinking that maybe she could at least give me a sympathetic ear, but instead she told me that the sleep deprivation is probably worse for Seymour because men don't tolerate it as well, and that I'm probably so much better off than I would be if Mali was in a crib and I had to keep getting up to soothe her. Both of these things may be true, but neither are helpful to a person nearing the end of a sleep-deprivation tether.

(And I very much know that I am a cream puff compared to people who live in the real world, so don't bother telling me that I have it easy. My mom already did.)

My mom also told me that she won't be available to help me watch Leelo and Mali for the six days that Seymour and Iz go boating in the San Juans, because she doesn't want to worry about her house plants. Thankfully she then listed some more practical concerns before I hung up on her (though I actually did hang up on her twice during the conversation, citing "dead spots" each time). I'll be fine without her help, but I would have appreciated the company.

At least my dad is doing really well. His white blood count seems to have stabilized. Sometimes I almost forget that he has leukemia, since his doctors have managed his symptoms so well and he never ever complains about anything. I am very grateful that he is doing so well.

But I am still otherwise snarly. And my grumpitude isn't helping a bad case of not wanting to belong to any club that would have me as a member. I am on the fence about BlogHer, even though I already bought tickets. I have met so many lovely people through this blog already that I don't really feel the need to meet any more. And conventions make me nervous.

Anyhow, I'm really fucking twitchy. So if you've ever even wondered if you might be a narcissist, stay the fuck away from me until further notice. I might accidentally eviscerate you, and I won't feel one bit guilty until I finally got some sleep.

The babysitters (bless them both) are here and I am going to go to the movies and watch big explosions while I eat a smuggled-in Burrito. Yeah. Ideally I would go straight to bed, but my house is too small for me to be sealed off from the kids and their hullaballoo. Instead I'll just put my brain to bed.

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