Going...Going...Gone!

My mind, that is.

There are so many things to do. So many. I try to prioritize, but almost all of them are pretty important. And I absolutely do not know how to ask for help. Did you ever see that movie with Sandra Bullock, 28 Days? She's in rehab, ends up on crutches from a failed escape attempt and the therapist makes her wear a sign around her neck that says something like, "Ask me if I need help." Okay, so it took a long time to get to the point, but the point is - that could be me. Minus the drinking problem - though some days I think it might be helpful if I developed one of those.

The hub is sick. He works retail and it's the week of Christmas, so the timing is really bad. He's allergic to something - maybe dust mites, maybe just life in general - and he's been breaking out in hives and having a hell of a time breathing. He's been seeing an allergist who put him on massive doses of steroids, along with a cocktail of other drugs. The hives are better. The asthma is too, but only slightly. He's pretty miserable. And, being "organizationally challenged", he can't keep track of all these meds by himself. So, I've been trying to do it for him. And worrying about him. And doing everything else around here because he's pretty much incapacitated after he struggles through the day at work.

Then there's the whole breastfeeding thing. I'm determined to make it to at least a year breastfeeding the Bean. When I get determined to do something, anyone who knows me will tell you it takes... Well, I'm too damn tired to come up with a snappy metaphor right now, but suffice it to say I'm one stubborn lady. Anyway. My milk supply has been dwindling (at least the amount I'm able to pump when I'm at work - Beanie still seems content when she nurses) - so I've been "power pumping" to try to build it back up. This involves pumping for at least 5 minutes after each feeding - while trying to entertain a 9 month old crawling baby and keep her from eating lamp cords and whatnot. Picture it. Double breast pump attached to boobs. Chasing crawling baby. You're laughing, aren't you? Yeah, me too - it's that or scream. I've been drinking enough water to float an ocean liner and eating oatmeal with brewer's yeast til I gag too.

And it's going to be Christmas in a few days. I find myself responsible this year for orchestrating the family Christmas gathering on the Eve. My aunt who usually did it after Grandma died moved to North Carolina over the summer, and I think somehow I may have accidentally volunteered. Or someone volunteered me. I'm not sure which. I just want to know why so many people I love end up moving to North Carolina? And who ever said I know the first thing about entertaining?

I had myself a good, loud, snotty cry the other day though, while Josie took her nap. It wasn't pretty, but it got the job done. I think I'm going to make it.