The Tell-Tale Clock

I have insomnia. It comes and goes. It strikes at inopportune times and it never makes an appointment. I have tried many things to get rid of the insomnia (herbal remedies, narcotics (duh, prescribed)) but nothing really works.

For approximately the last year, my insomnia has been a little different. It's very odd. Now, if you are reading this, 1) you probably already know me and 2) I think I have already explained that I have a smidge of anxiety. And, by a smidge, I mean a shitload. So, lying awake in my bed worrying about money or debt or my weight or world peace or debt or my weight or if Brangelina will adopt again is normal. But in the past year, my lying awake staring at the ceiling time has been different. I almost couldn't pinpoint what the f-ck was wrong. Something was wrong, or at least I imagined something was wrong. But, I couldn't have explained what was.

Then, holy crap. Out of the blue, just this week, it hit me. Edgar Allen Poe. No, old EAP is not what is wrong, persay. In fact, he's dead so he doesn't bother me at all. But, I finally determined the feeling, the sound, the "thing" that is keeping me awake. It's the Tell-Tale Heart. But, it isn't beating. It's TICKING.

Holy shit. I have my very own Tell-Tale Biological Clock living under my floorboards.

Lucky me. Of course I can't just have a Walmart brand digital biological clock. Oh, no. I have a full-blown, rife-with-literary-references biological clock. One that is so thud thud thud and bam bam bam that I can't even place the ticks. I didn't even realize it was a "clock" until it hit me driving to work the other day.

It's funny in a way. Put me in a room full of kids and I love it for a few minutes, maybe an hour. Then I start to think about all of the things I could be doing if I wasn't in a room full of kids - you know, watch more episodes of The Vampire Diaries, watch reruns of Jersey Shore, um...other things that don't involve bad television.

But, yet the heart beats. The clock ticks.

I cringe at baby shower games involving pastel-colored diaper pins or Snickers bars melted into diapers.

But, still the clock ticks.

Because when I pass onesies, especially ones with frogs or holiday themes, I want to buy them. In bulk.

Because when I smell a newborn baby, I am overcome with their scent that is a cross between talcum powder and fairy dust.

Because my fingers want to knit baby blankets and baby sized hats.

Because I can't think of anything better than having this minature-sized person asleep on my chest.

But, don't worry. I don't have baby fever or anything. Really. I just have baby-sometime-in-my-life fever. I am fine not being at mom at this exact second. I just want to know I will be.

This isn't all sad-sappy-poor-me blog post. I am not posting this for that reason. But, the reason I decided to start this blog is because I had "thoughts" in my head. And so I'm sharing them. One day I'd like to be a mom. Of course, I'd love to get married. But, knowing I could at least be a mom one day makes me smile. And, it helps me sleep. Kind of.