Who needs sleep?

Man, it's one of those days. I think Mark sent me his bad day right along with the stormy weather. It doesn't help that my sleep is all messed up.

One of my all-time favorite songs is Who Needs Sleep by the Barenaked Ladies. It's an anthem for my life.

Who needs sleep?
Well you're never gonna get it.
Who needs sleep?
Tell me what that's for.

I can go an amazingly long time without sleep, but I'm not usually happy about it. I end up falling asleep at the very worst times and just generally act like a cranky ditz.

But I discover some of the most interesting things in the middle of the night. Things besides my crazy, chatterbox psyche, that is.

My lack of sleep started on Saturday night. At about midnight I started watching Bringing Down the House on TV. I love Queen Latifa, but this movie was pretty much just crap. Yet it kept me from going to bed for two more hours.

Then, like the blogging addict I am, I decided to check on my comments. Which led me to catching up on some of the 100 blogs from my blogroll. (Ack! That's too many! I need a better system.)

From God of Biscuits, I found this blog. Awwww. Baby pictures. I love picture. Family, friends, strangers...it doesn't matter. I just want to look at your pictures. And these ones made my womb ache. NO! There will be no more babies in the Tuna House. But, I defy any mother to look at newborn pictures and NOT feel her ovaries clench.

And speaking of pictures, from (one of my favorites) Feisty Girl, I found Zoot. Who had found this boobie blog. That's one hell of a way to raise money for breast cancer research. By the way, I hear that Just a Girl's picture is on there. Can you find her?

And the next thing I know, it's 6 a.m. and I haven't had any sleep yet.

Sunday's are my mornings to get the kids. So I rolled out of bed at 8 a.m., fed them (I think) and turned on the TV. Bad mother. Bad!

But my daughter was complaining of "gas pains" in her tummy. Suddenly she shot off the couch and flew into the bathroom. Poor baby girl. At least she was able to puke and get some cookie-tossing relief. She's better than me because she always makes it to the toilet to hurl. I fight it and fight it until I can't fight it anymore and hurl wherever I happen to be. My poor husband has washed more pukey sheets and rugs than any person should ever have to.

She seemed fine after that, but was up in the bathroom again at 11 p.m. last night. There is nothing worse than watching your kids throw up. Poor baby! I feel so helpless to make her feel better. And I can't even moan, "Oh God! Kill me. Kill me now!" like I do when I'm sick.

So I let her sleep in this morning. When I went into her room at 8 a.m., her and her brother were playing with her Leapster. She was as happy as can be. Then I told her that I had let her sleep late and that I'd take her to school but that she'd missed their monthly flag ceremony. And she was pissed. Really pissed. She let me have it. She didn't ask me to let her sleep late. She never said she was too sick for school.

I actually felt bad, but that's not how we talk in this house, so we had a little set to. I think I just got my first glimpse at how her teenage years will go. I need to start preparing for that now.

So, ugh. I've rambled enough. My iPod isn't working right. My arms are sore from lifting. It's pouring out and I have to clean my car so I can drive kids on a field trip tomorrow. I need to book my hotel for NYC. I need to pack, get a tan, and lose 10 pounds before my cruise this weekend.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. My life sucks.