also known as "why am I still awake??"

I can't get to sleep tonight, insomnia has me in her sweaty grip and as of 4am, I have lost hope of getting anything resembling a night's sleep.

I am staring at the ass-end of a relatively innocent week here at casa del forsyth. I would even call it drama-free (save for some ugly zits I developed from either not washing my face that one time I wore makeup or face goo from my phone). We're still dealing with the ghosts of the past weeks, my thorough and intrepid son keeps checking to see if there's some exception to this "every living thing dies" idea.

I am guiding him through the process as best I can, what with me being the seasoned adult - but some times I feel like I am floundering. I suppose that is to be expected, it isn't like I've ever done this before.

I feel disappointed that I didn't take advantage of more opportunities to get out and enjoy summer with him (and now Rigby, the lean, mean, crawling machine). But when I think about it, I hope he remembers all the neat things he got to do. Like spending time at dad's office (which is super-cool like woah) or spending a few days with grandparents and other family here and there. I hope he remembers the times we gathered friends together, or at least how much fun he had. I don't want my experience of the summer, and this year, be his lasting memories.

I wonder, now, how my parents would have been dealing with me at this stage. Is there any doubt in my mind that they did absolutely all they could not to pass their issues on to me? And is there any doubt in my mind that those feelings and experiences are the ones that have made me the woman I am today? I am the matriarch of a beautiful family because of the love and dedication my parents had for me - so for what it is worth, I know that it is because of them and those difficult experiences that I am strong enough to accept that when I am doing the best that I can, it is enough. It will always be enough, whether I fret about it or not.

He is actually amazing, my son, he is smart and funny, he is curious and oh. so. adorable. I am crazy about my kid, it is such a gift to be the one to watch him grow. My daughter, too - in the past few months she has blossomed a personality and is exploring the world with the innocence and vigor only a small child can experience. I figure they're good kids, who are clothed, fed and live in a vermin-free dwelling of limited size, I must be doing something right.

So, I finally get to my point. I did have one, after all. I'm a great mom. I will continue to be a great mom. I don't need to look like some hip yummy-mummy or the like, I need to be comfortable and a bit stylish. I also don't want to be a parent who is insecure in her parenting. Sure, I will fuck up royally at least a dozen times before high school, but I'd like to stop questioning my every move. I've proven to myself that when a situation strikes, I can get shit done, so no need to fret. I am so competent, so fun...

Okay, so... I may have just nodded off at the keys, I am going to take this chance for an hour or two of sleep. Thank goodness it's Saturday (right?).