These are my meds. Don’t harass me and ask you to give you good stuff, because I don’t have anything like that.

These are my prescriptions for asthma, insomnia, migraines, sinus problems, womanly stuff (is too a medical condition) and anxiety. You try having a kid who almost died twice and see if you’re not a little anxious. Hearing words like “bacteria” or “swine flu” send me into a complete tizzy (is too a real thing).

My son actually tried to outdo me once. This was his collection during one of those aforementioned near death experiences. He is always trying to compete with me! That boy is such a one-upper. I have no idea where he gets it.

I have tried to go without my medications. I’m currently on a no-sugar diet to help control my headaches, I have tried St. John’s Wort and Melatonin for insomnia, and my mom once put me on mega-doses of vitamin C to try to ease my breathing problems. FYI…if you try mega-doses of vitamin C, be prepared for your colon to hate you.

Though if you’re colon does end up hating you, I think I have something for that.

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A week from tomorrow I am leaving town to attend a conference in Chicago. I have a scholarship that pays for my conference pass, and I didn’t think my 11 year old car would make the six hour drive, so Chevy is sending me a 2009 Tahoe. Then one of my roommates went and won a prize from Johnson and Johnson and is paying for our room. If I were Napoleon Dynamite this would be the equivalent of shocks and pegs. I am “Lucky!” Were it not for my my bar bill, this trip would be free.

One of my roommates is flying in from Oklahoma and I already know two of my roommates from a very ill-fated meet-up last year. But, because I spent most of that night in tears, hiding in the bathroom and fielding calls from the ER, I don’t feel like they really know me at all.

I thought I would dedicate a few posts to the three of them. It’s a little something to help them see who they’ll be singing karaoke with.

First of all, I am an insomniac. I have a horrible time sleeping because I lie awake thinking about things like a fellow blogger’s son who is in the hospital, or the fact that I just told my roommates that I would sing with them when I am actually completely tone deaf. I used to take Ambien, until I got addicted to it, but I was able to convince my doctor to give me a few pills to help me get through this trip.

Only problem? It makes me hallucinate in between taking it and actually falling asleep. Night before last, I went on Twitter during that time period…you know, because I had to test the Ambien. (Mom, Twitter is a social network where you can tell people what you’re doing in 140 characters or less. You can check it out…if you ever get a computer.)

So roomies, here are some of the things you’re in for. I give you my Ambien tweets…

Where I talk to my husband about a deer that I never saw – Am telling my husband the story about the deer from the other day that I TOTALLY remember. He says, “None of it happened”. Foiled by Ambien!!

I nod off, the first time – MomoFaliStarted typing a blog post, fell asleep and woke up to a screen full of “b’s”. Hai Ambien!

I hallucinate, the first time – Let’s just say there’s some Kung Fu Panda up in here…and the movie isn’t even on.

I nod off a second time – Just tried to send an 1133 character update (it was blank, as I fell asleep with my hand on the space bar). Twitter is so picky!

I hallucinate a second time and misspell the name of the most famous ship…ever – There’s some Kung Fu Panda/Titantic stuff going on in my house and my daughter keeps talking about swim lessons (but she’s really in bed).

I make up names for far away lands – A place called Ambeinland would have streets paved in silver and all the chocolate and beer you can eat. And, comfy pillows.

I finally come to my senses – And spekaing of comofy pillows. Goodnight.

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Friday afternoon, I picked up my daughter at school, ran home to pick up the puppy, took her to the vet (then took her back home after her appointment), then quickly got my son and his gear together and drove him to t-ball practice. Also, what else is new? This is why I sometimes forget to breathe.

After practice, the kids and I stopped by a carry-out for some Corona milk then drove home to make a quick pit-stop before heading out to a cookout. On the way home I gave everyone jobs so that we could get to our friends’ house on time, because I knew they were waiting on us.

I told my son, “Your jobs are to take off your cleats, put your socks down the laundry chute, go to the bathroom, wash your hands and grab your Crocs.”

Then I looked in the rear view mirror at my daughter and said, “You let both dogs out and feed them.”

She nodded then asked, “What are your jobs?”

I replied, “I’m going to give the puppy her medicine, give your brother his medicine, and I need to touch up my makeup.”

My daughter questioned me, “Makeup? Why do you need to do that?”

I tried to reassure her that I wouldn’t be cutting into her play time. “I just need to touch up under my eyes.”

“Oh. I can understand that.”

I sarcastically replied, “Gee, thanks!”

“No, Mom. Just because you don’t get enough sleep and you always look so tired.”

“Uh. Thanks, again!”

“Wait. I mean, everyone needs eye makeup, but especially you.”

My daughter. The girl can dig herself in a hole and she doesn’t even need a shovel.

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There comes a point as an insomniac where you learn to live with a lack of sleep. You become accustomed to needing a cup of coffee to get you through the afternoon, but not before you have tried drinking tea because everyone who knows anything about insomnia knows you shouldn’t drink coffee in the middle of the day. I digress.

I digress because I’m typing this at such a level of exhaustion that my brain convinced me (albeit for a split second, but still…) that maybe I could prop my eyelids open with toothpicks. I also briefly considered creating my own Red Bull eyedrops.

Since Tuesday (it’s Sunday night now…I think it’s Sunday), I have slept a total of 19 hours. That’s 19 hours in five nights if my mind is working right, which it isn’t. All I know is that it’s less than four resting hours a day if you average it, and you have no idea how long it took me to do that math.

Once upon a time, I used to climb in bed at 10:00 p.m., fall asleep within a minute, and stay that way until 6:45 a.m. Almost nine blissful hours of sleep every night. That was before kids. That was when my only responsibility was me.

Seeing as how my responsibilities have greatly increased, I have learned to live a slumberless life. A life in which I stumble about like a drunk half the time. It’s not easy, but I manage. It is one of many sacrifices that I’ve made as a parent, and because I love my kids my zombie-like state is worth it.

But seriously, where did I put those toothpicks?

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