It’s a Two Xanax Kind of Night

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I’m having a panic attack. It could be a multitude of things that set it off, but it’s been bad for the last hour so I just took Xanax number two (totaling 1mg) and hopefully I’ll relax sometime soon. For the most part today was uneventful. I was able to thoroughly clean my kitchen, even getting down on my hands and knees to clean the floor (it was pretty gross down there).

My son had a baseball game tonight, and if you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know how I dread those. I try and support anything and everything my kids do, but lately baseball has been nothing but a downer and causing stress for my son (and for me). He hasn’t had one hit in this travel league. I will add in there that for the most part he gets walked. The pitchers have trouble adjusting pitches to his size in our batting order.  We have our tallest player hitting right before him, and my son is the smallest kid on the team. I’m not saying he hasn’t struck out, too–oh he has–but, more often than not, he gets on base with a walk.

As a mom, I’m happy he’s not out. As a kid, the poor guy just wants to hit the damn ball. He had some really great hits during our Park & Rec season and his confidence was up, but he hasn’t had a hit in this travel season and he’s beating himself up. So I see him walking up to bat. There are two outs, and of course, as any good mother does, I cringe and begin praying.

The pitch is right to him and I’m see him swing. Much to my surprise (and everyone else’s) he hits the ball and starts running. Now I’m praying that he makes it to first base. In the meantime two other kids score runs as my son runs in what seems like slow motion toward first base. He gets there just as the first baseman gets the ball, but luckily the kid dropped it. As I’m thanking God for the kid’s error, I see my son’s coach start yelling at him for not running straight through the base. He hesitated when he saw the kid had the ball. The kid hasn’t had one hit all season. You can’t let him have one freakin moment?

I sat there pissed off, but they played long enough in that inning for my son to score, so I was happy and he looked happy. They were winning 13-3 when he was up again, and as luck would have it, lightning struck and they had to end the game. When we got home (we had taken separate cars) I congratulated him on the hit and he said, “It wasn’t…” oh crap I don’t remember what kind of hit he said it wasn’t. I’m not a baseball person. In other words, it wasn’t a good enough hit. It wasn’t a hard enough hit. He waited for this moment, and it wasn’t good enough. I hate his coach tonight.

Then I felt stressed because my cousin sent me a Facebook message asking why I didn’t bring the kids over to see her puppy as we had talked about prior to our fight when she said I betrayed her at cut me out of her life. I thought about my response for a good 40 minutes and I think that’s what caused the panic. I hate drama. I wrote back that she should re-read her instant messages from the other night that decide whether or not she’d feel welcome. Then I mentioned that I did not have time to discuss it further. She wrote back that she was sorry.

DRAMA!!! Anyway, we’ve been having these storms every single night and I really believe they are messing with my RA and fibro. Tonight I am fighting a migraine, and I am still dealing with the intense pain in my hip and low back. I also have a lot of tightness through my neck. I took some Alleve, but it didn’t seem to do much of anything. When I’m finished with tonight’s blog, I’m going to get my ice packs and turn off all the lights to hopefully get some sleep.

I’m not sure why but my insomnia has been really bad this week. I haven’t fallen asleep before 2:00AM in the past 4 nights. Last night I was up playing online Yahtzee (Dice with Friends) with random people at 3:00AM. You know you’re really bored when you’re trying to get people to play Yahtzee with you in the middle of the night.

And my random outburst of the night: What is up with so many people leaving their babies in cars? Yesterday another child died in a hot car and this time it was only two towns over from me. The father worked all day and didn’t realize he forgot to drop his son off at daycare. Now, let me first say that people who live in glass houses should never throw stones. When that first case came out a few weeks ago, I was so upset and I tried to put myself in that father’s shoes. Maybe he didn’t usually drop the child at daycare? Maybe the child was sound asleep and not making noise? Maybe the father was so stressed with things he was frazzled and now would spend the rest of his life paying for this horrific mistake?

Then the reports came out that the dad was researching how long it would take for a dog to die in a hot car, and how long it would take for a child to die in a hot car. Then there were reports that he was sexting while the poor baby was in the hot car. The very man that I was doing my best to try and show a shred of compassion for, even in all his stupidity, was a horrid man. So now I’m jaded. I’m asking how this father in Ridgefield, CT worked a full work day and didn’t once think of his son. Not once did his mind wander to what his son might be doing at daycare that day.

How? How does a parent not think of their child all day? How does that happen? Why does someone need to leave a shoe in the back seat of their car to remind them that their child is there? I talked to my kids in the car. I’m a stressed, frazzled, forgetful mom. I forget appointments, paperwork, dinner. I never forget my kids. All I’m saying is I don’t understand. I now find myself looking in every car in every parking lot. Why is this happening so often? I don’t get it.

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