I am sleep deprived, more so than usual. The hours available for sleep have gotten shorter lately. The time I actually spend sleeping has been impeccable at being frequently interrupted by either my own tossing and turning or my children waking up with complaints like, “My toes hurt!” Each night is one or the other. Sometimes both. Who needs sleep?
I feel close enough to newborn levels of exhaustion that I am ready to move our plans for another baby eight years further into the future. Maybe by then, I won’t feel so tired? Or I’ll have been tired so long that I won’t notice.
The last week has been especially full of events that are both exciting and energy-sapping.
I turned 31. I’m usually a big dork about my birthday. I love it, mostly because I use it as a month-long excuse to get my way on things like who gets the last slice of pizza. Attention is my favorite, and everyone gives you attention on your birthday. Even people I feel like I should probably remember from high school, but don’t. Thanks for the posts on my Facebook wall, loose acquaintances!
This year, I’ve been a little preoccupied and not entirely aware of what month it is at times, let alone what day. Adam mentioned last week that we should go out for a birthday dinner and I stared at him, completely perplexed, before asking, “Whose birthday dinner?”
Once I realized (and forgot again seven more times) that it was my birthday dinner, I requested ordering in sushi and going to bed early. Look out, world!
A few days ago, I re-entered the workforce after five years away. I’m officially a staff writer for Scary Mommy. This has been my dream job ever since I knew it could be a job. At this very moment, my eyes are burning because I was up way too late finishing an assignment and also because my kids both woke up before 6 am. Kids are jerks. But the tired eyes are worth it because this is really the perfect job for me, and I’m so excited to be working. You can read my posts 2-3 times a week over there. Swears and such. You know the drill.
In related news, I spent a large portion of my birthday calling psychiatrists and trying to find someone to treat my ADD. As per my usual complaints, obtaining mental health care is a fart.
And exactly one week ago, after a months-long testing process, August was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder Level 1 and an unspecified anxiety disorder. The last year and a half of having him in preschool has been a ride, and finally having a diagnosis has been both overwhelming and a relief. It wasn’t surprising at all to find out it was ASD. But I’m realizing now that I know absolutely nothing about this disorder, treatments, or the road ahead when he starts kindergarten next year. I’m trying to sift through what feels like a dump truck’s worth of information, which would also be made easier by getting my ADD in check.
I’ll write more about this as the dust settles. At the moment, I don’t feel like I have the capacity to write more on this outside of it just being a lot. Not because it’s overly upsetting, but because it really is a lot.
While exhausting and overwhelming, this week has been life-changing in all good ways. I’ve craved work that didn’t involve cleaning toilets or planning meals (though I’ll still be doing those things) for years.
My son has a diagnosis that, while it feels complicated right now, is going to present a clearer path for him in the future and allow us to help him navigate the world around him in more effective ways.
And I had sushi and ice cream cake.
All I need now is a nap.