At any given moment . . .

. . . you can catch me feeling one of the following ways:

*rejected

*left out

*sad

*lonely

*mad

*cheated

*confused

*scared

*tired

*happy? (or maybe bemused--yes, bemused is a better choice)

*ready to punch a fist through a wall

*empty.

When people ask how I'm doing, I usually say, "OK, minute to minute," or some other such nonsense. But really, any one of the aforementioned adjectives would fill in the blank. How am I doing? That, my friends, is a loaded question, with an equally loaded answer to follow. Let "OK" stand for what you will.

Last night E was up. ALL. NIGHT. LONG. Like, newborn up. Except that when he was an actual newborn, he was never up like that. He'd wake, cry, nurse, sleep. This could happen several times a night or only once, but he has always been a boy who likes his sleep. He plays hard and sleeps hard, and never the 'twain shall meet.

Not last night. It was a marathon--an ultramarathon, actually. From 11PM 'til 6AM, C and I pulled every trick out of our bag, and then made up some more. Nothing was getting this kid to sleep. During a brief respite in crying, E was asleep on my chest, down on the couch. In from of the television. And in my sleep-deprived stupor, I couldn't help but think that this is how my life is supposed to be right now.

Except there's supposed to be an actual newborn keeping us awake all night. E's one night (fingers crossed!) of sleeplessness reminded me of how drastically our immediate future has been changed.

It's the last night in January. Thankfully. Let this horrific month come to an end, please. Except the end of January means the beginning of February.

And my due date.

And my birthday. Which happens to be my due date.

And for nearly the past year I've been looking forward to, eagerly anticipating, wondering about and waiting for February.

All I want is to fast-forward through this month. The networks have all been counting down to something (yes, I watch a lot of TV. Sue me.)--the Winter Games in 10 days! Season premiere of Lost in one week! Valentine's Day and Presidents' Day sales!

Those countdowns used to be mine, too. At any given moment, chances are, somewhere inside, I'm feeling like crap.