Thursday, April 1, 2010

The synergy of teens and menopausal moms.

Maybe "synergy" isn't the right word, but it's one of life's ironies that my teenagers and I are wrestling with insomnia, temperature fluctuations, and brain freeze. At the same time.


The night before last, I was up at 3 and stayed that way until dawn. My teens were up well past midnight because they couldn't fall asleep. By last evening, we were all stumbling around, snarling at each other, and wanting nothing more than to go to bed. But I'm working on Peachtree's charter petition rewrite every moment I'm not at work or sleeping, the kids had essays and an Analysis test to prep for, there were no clean jeans in the house so the washing machine needed to be fed, and . . .

At 8:00, my son gave up. He couldn't focus enough to eat the very late dinner I prepared (having realized at 7 that I hadn't even begun cooking). So I sent him to bed.

Then I gave up. I moved some data from one section of the charter to another, realized I was going to start making mistakes, shut down the computer and headed to bed.

Then my daughter gave up. She printed out her essay and crawled into her own bed.

The only person still vertical after 8:30 was my husband, who was working on several volunteer projects.

I understand that parents who have their kids when they're in their early 20's don't hit the crazies at the same time. But my generation postponed having children for the sake of careers and wanting to do it at the "perfect time" whatever that is. So I'm in good company.

It's morning, we've all slept, and now we're back to a more normal level of stress.

My son is sitting in the dark of the family room, eating a Pop Tart and studying for his Analysis test. My suggestion that he turn on a lamp was met by disdain. My daughter is cloistered in her bedroom, taking the usual inordinate amount of time to get dressed for school. And I'm running around, packing things for work, yelling at the kids to "move it or you'll be late to school!", and watching the clock.

Where's my coffee?

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