It’s 4:50am. I have to get up in 100 minutes. I’ve been awake since exactly 1:45. I’ve watched two pointless hours of non-cable-late-sunday-night tv. I’ve snacked on corn chips and salsa. I’ve cruised Facebook, made note of several articles I want to read but will likely forget all about. I’ve put away the clean dishes, folded three loads of laundry, washed two and there’s one sitting wet in the dryer that could by now have been folded and neatly stacked with the rest on the loveseat. I’ve turned off the lights and read in the dark to attempt to force my eyes to tire. And that’s not all that I tried in the name of relaxation. At this point, I’d even accept simple exhaustion.

I don’t know how long the kids have been asleep. They were quietly awake when I dozed off sometime around 9:30ish. Their rooms now look like party-central, so I’m guessing they didn’t drop off when I did. In the morning I take them – via the “joy” that is St. Johns’ Metrobus – to see the developmental paediatrician.

I can’t sleep. It’s going to be an extra long Monday. A lot rides on this appointment. I have to discuss recommendations for the best transition approach for out-of-town visits with their “peek-a-boo” father. I believe my daughter has ADHD. I have to address that directly. Her teacher is particularly concerned about the inappropriate object-eating. My 8 year old son with Aspergers wants me to ask the doc to give him “medicine to cancel [his] bad behaviour”. Yes, that’s a quote from my son. His teachers want me to “try harder” to get some effective respite assistance. As if the last four years hasn’t proven the inadequacy of how that system works. (In fairness, they do mean well.)

I have to do all this with the kids listening bc I don’t have anyone to go with us to supervise them separately during this portion of the appointment. Because the kids will be right there, I have to do all this without letting the anxiety win and throw me into tears.

It’s 5:22 now. I don’t have a headache yet, but it’s there, waiting for me. I still can’t sleep. Sixty-eight minutes left.