I wonder if this is what it feels like to be drunk

Some of the people I interacted with today must have thought I was either drunk or high on something.

I'm sure I wierded a few people out. I would have scared myself if I didn't know I was a walking talking result of a week alone with two preschoolers, a newborn, car troubles and essentially no sleep.

I repeat myself. I have to ask others to repeat themselves. I get my right and left mixed up when giving directions, and can't remember street names or my own address.(My apologies to the lady who got lost bringing us dinner last night.) I'll be halfway through the answer to a question when I realize the question I'm answering isn't the question they asked. My eyes keep crossing and drooping, and I'm having trouble keeping my balance. I'm talking v e r y s l o w l y , trailing off mid-word, and occasionally slurring my speech.

The poor lady who brought dinner to us tonight (Chicken Marsala with angel hair pasta, mushrooms and asparagus) was very kind and forbearing, but looked a little disturbed as she hurried away. She is very young and put-together, and has never had infants or toddlers.

I literally kept falling asleep mid-page while reading to the girls earlier tonight. I'd notice my voice was getting quieter and slower, then the words would get all mushy . . . next thing I knew the girls would be poking me and saying, "Mommy? Read this page next, Mommy. This one right here. Yeah, that one. Uh, Mommy? Are you going to read the next page?"

If anyone needs a subject for an experiment in sleep deprivation and general fatigue, let me know. I'll be happy to oblige.

Of course, it just might help if I would remember to take my vitamins, drink adequate water, and eat more than one solid meal a day. Just maybe. You never know.

I was going to go get the brake recall fixed on DH's car this morning, but instead it took me 5 hours to accomplish the following tasks: getting the kids up and dressed, feeding them, eating a bowl of cold cereal, feeding and changing the baby approximately sixty-eleven times, cleaning up one potty accident, and breaking up two hundred and thirty-gazillion fights between the girls.

Oh, yes, and taking a shower. After 4 hours of attempting to get all three kids occupied for 5 minutes straight with some combination of sleeping, watching a video or playing nicely together, I finally got smart and just took all of them into the bathroom with me. Baby E camped out in the bouncy seat two feet away while the rest of us crowded into the shower all at once. It worked quite well, actually. Nobody fought, the girls thought it was great fun, and all three of us got clean.

Another 2 hours later, I had succeeded in wrestling the (mostly dry) cover back onto M's car seat and getting socks, shoes and ponytails onto the girls.

With help from my mom, I managed to go get my van from the mechanic today. Mom dropped me off and then took the girls out for ice cream. I paid the mechanic and listened to him explain all the details of the van, what he did and didn't do, what parts he had used and why he chose one approach to the repair over another, what the last mechanic who worked on it did wrong, what the van would need done in the next few months or a year, how to care for the vehicle, and a few bonus stories about slightly related issues his other customers had with their cars. He believes in educating his customers and making sure they fully understand what's going on with the vehicle. And, although he barely says two words together in any other context, he loves to talk about cars.

I remember maybe a third of what he told me, and which I was going to pass on to DH--I hope the rest wasn't too important.

DH takes the vehicles to a big professional chain when he gets them worked on, but I prefer this small-time mechanic who works out of a shop next to his home. My family has been friends with his family for years. He's a skilled workman with a great love of cars and pride in his work. I trust him implicitly and have great confidence in the quality of his work and the fairness of his prices. Which is all very nice, but by the time we got done the baby had been fussing for a while and my time without the two older girls was used up. None of us except the baby got naps today, but at least we got that task done.

The verdict: the alternator was shot, the oil was two quarts low and apparently hadn't been changed for about a year, and the rear tires are completely bald. Other than that the van is in pretty good shape. The first two items he fixed, but I'll have to go somewhere else to take care of the tires. Since he strictly cautioned me against driving at freeway speeds at all lest the tires burst, I'll have to do that before going to pick DH up at the airport tomorrow afternoon.

DH got out of his work conference early today. He was able to spend most of the day playing at Disney World, thanks to a relative of a relative who works there. So he kept calling on his cell phone to tell the girls about the things he was seeing and let them listen to the sounds and rides there. That was fun.

The highlight was a Winnie-the-Pooh ride in which they got to hear Tigger woo-hooo-hoo-ing, Piglet and Owl floating down a waterfall, Christopher Robin getting Tigger out of a tree, and Pooh having a nightmare about Heffalumps and Woozles.

A spent the next two hours hollering at my now-turned-off cell phone to tell Winnie the Pooh not to worry: "It's okay, Winnie-the-Pooh. You don't need to be scared. It was just a dream, and dreams are your mind making up stories while you're sleeping. Your mind is very smart. It makes up stories, like watching a movie." Nothing I said seemed to allay her concerns. I finally called DH back so he could reassure her that Winnie the Pooh was okay. That seemed to help, but she was still talking about Winnie the Pooh's dreams tonight.

I've been writing this post over the past several hours, between getting the kids ready for bed and feeding the baby.

A is fast asleep already. M just finished having a tantrum which involved getting so angry that she screamed until her eyes rolled back in her head and throwing herself against a cupboard in the dark, nearly knocking herself out. Because I wouldn't leave the light on in the playroom so she could read books. She's sleeping in the playroom because her bed is wet and I don't have the energy to deal with it at the moment. Yes, I had a diaper on her. I've been attempting to follow Liz's sage advice today. But she removed her diaper and (deliberately?) wet the bed while throwing a tantrum because I wouldn't give her another glass of milk.

Now it's time to gather up the garbage and recycling and take it out for tomorrow morning's collection. The garbage truck comes bright and early--and is sure to wake the girls at 7 a.m. or so.

Oh, wait, the baby is awake and wanting to be fed again.

But first, a couple of today's quotes from the girls.

A: "M, please don't let me die. Please, please give me back that toy. I'll surely die if you don't give me back that toy I had."

M: "NO! I don't want to eat lunch! I'm Mad! I don't like you, Mommy! I don't like A, and I don't like Daddy. I don't like anybody! Except Baby E. (complete change of tone) I like the baby, Mommy. I love Baby E! She's our baby. Look at her, she's so cute! Awwww. I want to give the baby a hug. (Smothering baby.) Mwah!"

Baby E: Gaaaa! Aah, aah, aah . . . snuffle, slurp, slurp. Sigh.