Do you know what I have to do? What I have to start doing?
What I have to (ugh, shudder) DISCIPLINE myself to do regularly?
I have to start sleeping. I have to start sleeping more, and more regular hours, or I am going to lose my mind.
No amount of vitamins or good wholesome homecooked food or drinking sufficient water or even journaling is going for prevent it - any of those could forestall it, some briefly, some for longer.
A few weeks ago, husband and I (YES I blame my husband, please shut up) started staying up. Just long enough to post; oh, just let me finish this contract. Oh, let me knit just a few more rows. Oh, look, it's one o'clock.
(And of course, this is another way in which being a parent has broken me, along with my broken internal thermostat and various feminine/hormonal areas of discussion, plus this weird dowager's hump which has misplaced itself to my damn FRONT, above my belt, thanks a lot...
one o'clock used to be a good time to go out. Or move from one bar/party/venue of some sort that was seeming a little tired to a cooler one.
Oh, just picture me, running down Charles, tipsy, working the bi-level haircut, wearing navy shorts, a couple of tank tops, flats, numerous chandelier earrings, and a gigantic men's white dinner jacket with a shawl collar. Occasionally, tatted lace gloves. A small, rotating cloud of fabulous gay boyfriends in tow.
Yeah, your friends don't dance, and if they don't dance, well they're no friends of mine.
Well, snap out of your revery, friends, here's what 20 years will get you: black sweat pants, white socks, singing songs from the Jungle Book at the top of your lungs, as you pull out of the Chik-Fil-A in your hybrid and head for the Wal-Mart. You pray that, if you can jolly up your kid sufficiently, he won't throw a Defcon 3 tantrum when you try to slide his little legs into the shopping cart.
For this, you need your sleep.
(There aren't actually very many songs in the Jungle Book. It's kind of half-assed, as a musical.)
BUT speaking of musicals, the kid arose from his nap yesterday to find me watching On The Town, and he was RAPT, utterly RAPT with EVERY MINUTE. He literally stood motionless staring at the screen for 15 minutes. He doesn't do that with Elmo. (Most musicals do not keep up the insane breakneck pace of On The Town, which is more like an operetta/dance recital than a regular MGM musical. High Society, for example, did not sustain his interest. Although, when Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly sang True Love, he did stand close to the screen and say
"SINGING?????!!?? Is SINGING??? People SINGING??" Yes, baby. A movie about people singing.
It seems he cannot believe his good luck, to get born into a world where you can watch movies about people singing.
And I know just how he feels.