Eyes of the Dragonby Bridget Stuart
Stress, baby. That's the word. Stress. When you're about to close on a new house and embark on a series of major renovations before you can even think about moving in, while struggling with a few minor (okay, MAJOR) legal hassles, AND you have several deadlines you have no prayer of meeting, AND also have to manage to give your children enough confidence-bolstering, relationship-building, loving face time to meet their needs...stress is your bosom buddy. Stress is your puppy, dogging your every footstep. Stress is your lover, keeping you awake for loooong sheet-tossing, pillow-biting nights. Stress is your--okay, you get it already.
Continuing on the loss-of-sleep theme, I should mention that I did get a prescription from the doctor to help ease my path into dreams. I use it only occasionally--very occasionally--but, ahhh. The pills work. Sadly, in my Calvinist way, I allot myself a mere half-pill each time I simply can't lie there like a two-by-four any longer at three a.m. No siree, no taking a whole pill before turning off the light at ten for me! I grit my teeth and lose an entire five hours before debating whether it's too late to actually try my meager half-dose, wondering if I'll be able to wake up at six if I drug myself at three, etc., etc. Does anyone else do this to themselves? God, I hope not. Maybe I have some rare form of pill-phobia.
The result ain't pretty. I was volunteering in my little boy's classroom the other day, and the kids were making paper dragons, coloring in all the details with marker pens. I was particularly proud of my guy's cool, red-veined dragon eyes. "Awesome, Richard," I said. (Yes, around first-graders I admit to saying 'awesome' quite frequently.) "Where did you get the idea for the bloodshot eyes?'
"From your eyes, mommy! They look just like that!"
Must. Sleep. Must. Sleep.