People who equate truth with fact are missing the point.

Ooops…I forgot to title this. Herein you will find out why.

Right here at the beginning, I need to tell all those who read yesterday’s post how grateful I am for you. For those of you who commented, I tried to reply to individual comments and I couldn’t do it. It’s too close to my heart.

From right down in my guts, I thank you for seeing Carter, and for hearing me. It means more than I could have imagined it would.

This weekend, Brian and I put the kids to bed and set up our nest on the couch: coffee, popcorn, sweaters, slippers, a big blanket, and the remote control.

Brian and I are living the wild life, people.

We hit the button for OnDemand (How much do I love that we can watch movies without going to the video store anymore?) and found a movie. Some action and adventure movie, probably, since that’s one of the few places where Brian’s and my movie preferences intersect.

Ten minutes after we started the movie, Brian said, “This seems familiar.”

“Yeah, me, too. Did we see this?”

“I think so. Do you remember how it ends?”

“No idea.”

“Well, we might as well watch it if we can’t remember it,” Brian decided, and huddled back into his corner of the couch.

I’m turning 40 next month. I’m trying to look on the bright side like, for instance, the only alternative to getting older is dying young, so there’s that to be grateful for.

Also, unless it was very momentous, I can watch movies again later if I give myself enough time to forget them.

I used to remember everything. When I was in my twenties, it seemed I couldn’t forget anything, no matter how useless the information.

The delusion, suffered by some in Southeast Asia, wherein a man believes his external genitalia is shrinking and will soon disappear? That’s koro. I picked that up somewhere, probably a waiting room magazine, and it stuck there. Now, though, I devote two hours of my life to a movie and all significant memories of those two hours drip right out my ear and down the drain.

It’s a heck of a note, this getting older business. How do we all manage to believe that it will never happen to us?

Brian (who is much, much older than I am; truly, I am practically a child compared to him) or I stretch or groan or act in any way old, Carter will pipe up and say, “I’m sorry you’re getting old,” so that’s very comforting.

All in all, I wouldn’t change it. I wasn’t good at being young, but I’ve been practicing at middle age for going on fifteen years now.

Hell, we’re all advanced at something, right?

Which brings me to today. I’m so tired I feel like my face is going to slide right off the front of my head.

I slept four hours last night. Up until a few years ago, that was a fine amount of sleep, as long as I didn’t have more than two short nights in a row. Now, I’m rendered nearly non-functional, and no amount of coffee will remedy the situation.

Coffee is no substitute for sleep, but that doesn’t stop me from trying (repeatedly) to make it to do the job, kind of like trying to force a horde of hamsters* to pull a Volkswagen up a hill.

So me? I’m going to bed, because sleep is the only real solution for tiredness (I am all genius-y and profound today with my cause-effect observations). By the time you read this tomorrow (which will be today, but it is (was) tomorrow now, as I write this), I will, I hope, be well rested and thinking in a more sophisticated manner.

*That’s the real name for a group of hamsters. I done Googled it.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...
If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

18 comments to Ooops…I forgot to title this. Herein you will find out why.

  • I cannot even remember how old I am anymore. I have to do the math.

    Yet, I can remember PSA jingles from my childhood and the specific likes and dislikes of each New Kid on the Block.

  • Hope you get some sleep; There is no substitute.

  • My sad sack guy and I can’t even GET to the couch to watch a movie!!! And still I average 5 hours a night.

    I think I’ve got an army of ants pulling me up a mountain right now, and the only reason we keep on keeping on is because ants can’t move a rubber tree plant without believing they can. I love the vision of your horde of hampsters (I had to re-search the term above to write it here … how’s that for memory loss???!!!

    You know your struggle with your son? My mother. Not the same, she is only a harm to herself so, not the same, completely different, but we are rendered completely helpless in so many ways. And it has been for my whole life. I get that it is not my responsibility, in a way that is how it differs from yours, but I was a baby when she cried every day all day and my sisters looked after me, I was a small child when she was out of it on valium or wild without, so responsibility is a tricky one to sort out.

    We, my mother, my sisters and I, are at a critical stage right now, where things are completely off the rails. And we are tired. Oh. So. Tired.

  • Sorry … I meant to say … that I can relate to how tired you feel, not that I know how you feel about Carter. I relate to how you feel about Carter through your writing, not through my relationship with my mom

    Funny how one’s own intense feeling can take over a comment, and by the end of it you forget the point of the beginning of it … I am turning 44 in a moment … I mean a month … oh, nevermind. These days that is pretty much the same thing.

    • Awww, no worries, Karen. Feelings can be similar even when situations are very different.

      My grandma is off the rails right now, too. Sometimes I’m surprised by how similar the feelings are, even though my relationship with Grammy is vastly different (obviously) from my relationship with Carter.

      It hurts to watch someone you love fall apart, and it hurts to be powerless. That part of it? That part is very, very much the same.

  • i had something very witty to say…but i forgot. xo

  • Y’know, I thought you were two or three years older than I am. Five, tops. Oh well, now I can officially say I want to be you when I grow up 😉

  • It’s not the age, it’s the KIDS!! They suck out your brain. Every cell previously used for storing information like the end to that movie is taken up by bedtimes and times in which Dora the Explorer is on.

  • I contend that the very process of getting knocked up triggers our body to send an invading army of brain-cell-killers (pretty sure that’s the scientific name) to begin systematically weeding out our higher functions. Memory of anything related to ourselves and our past, multisyllabic tendencies, passwords and directions. These higher functions are replaced with the abilities to tell body temperature with our lips, memorize our children’s social security numbers and an almost limitless ability to recite height, weight, shoe size, hair color, what they are wearing to school today and, (if you’re like us) a complete list of current and former diagnoses, currrent and former medications and their side effects and the names of all leading experts in the field of whatever it is our kiddos have and their opinions on therapeutic methodology.

    I fell asleep watching a movie this weekend. If I could remember the name of it I would tell you.

  • I have to get 8 hours of sleep. I used to function (badly) without it. But it seems like the older I get the more inmportant it is.

    I am all the time forgetting my age and my daughter yells it at me MOM YOU ARE 46! I always exaggerate it to be older.

    Your hamster visual rocked my morning–


    that is all

  • I keep trying to reply here, but your blog is rejecting me. I will try not to make it personal.

    I am glad you commented about not commenting yesterday. I was worried about my little poem being too hokey or something.

    I have to have 8 hours of sleep anymore. I just cannot do without it anymore like I used to.

    I loved your visual of the hamsters —


    good stuff

    that is all

  • i have learned that lack of sleep is a big old depression trigger for me. I need like 8-10 hours to be good.

    i am all needy and high maintenance that way.

  • I tend to go to bed much much later than I have planned simply because at night seems to be the only time I am able to be by myself, without anybody needing me. It is MINE and I protect it and prolong it by sacrificing sleep. However, I am beginning to feel the effect of aging: I can’t burn the midnight oil the way I could.

Leave a Reply




You can use these HTML tags

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>