Very, Very Tired; or, You're Having a What?

I did not post yesterday. You were probably frenzied in a panic. You might have called the National Guard. For Olivia said she would post every day, and she did not. Therefore something must be terribly, terribly wrong.

I was not kidnapped, or away from home, or devoid of internet, or forgetful, or even without a topic about which to post (which is a first). I was just terribly tired. Tired tired. Exhausted, one might say. To the point that it took five minutes to comprehend one sentence in the book I was reading (it did not help that the characters were also very weary and in the dark), and scratching my nose was a chore.

I even went to bed at nine, which is the earliest I've gone to bed in years. I got up at eight thirty. Even after all that sleep, which is the most I can ever remember getting, I am equally tired today. My mother suggests I take a nap, but I do not like naps. Sleeping in the daytime is depressing, and scary.

All of this tiredness is the result of getting poison injected into one's body. Now, don't worry--this poison is for purposes medical*, and it is something that occurs regularly, and if you are curious you might get an explanation, but that is not the purpose of this post, and is irrelevant, so I will skip explanations for now, and this is turning into quite the run-on sentence.

So! Where was I? Oh, yes, tired. I was tired. Very much so. And you can probably tell I still am because of the way this post is written. Quite rambling, and not really making sense, and it's actually much easier to write when I'm like this because I'm too tired to care, ha!

Anyway. Because of all this poisony stuff, I was very, very tired. Yesterday I wanted to write a seriousish post, for yesterday was one year after my mother discovered that she was pregnant with her second child (I was the first... obviously), but at nine, my usual post-writing time of late, I went to bed.

So I'm trying to write it today. In Tiredese. Prepare yourself.

Actually, I'm too tired to write all of it. So I'll just start with the evening of August 12, 2010. I was in the living room on the computer, and my parents were in their room. Little did I know that my mother was taking a pregnancy test. The thought had never crossed my mind that my mother might have another child.

That is, until she entered the room right then. I knew, somehow, that she was about to tell me she was having a baby. As she asked me to sit on the couch beside her, I almost asked outright if that's what it was, but I didn't in case it turned out to be something really trivial.

So she told me. I don't think I said anything for several minutes. All I could do was laugh. My mother! Was having a baby!

The next several weeks were spent sitting around in shock. She went to the OB/GYN--and discovered she was twenty-five weeks along. Also, she was having a boy. My parents were adamant when I was in the womb that they wanted my gender to be a surprise, but this time, they said, they couldn't handle any more surprises.

It's hard to believe all that was a year ago. This is what we have now:

Well, not now now, because that picture was taken in June, but close enough.

*I'm not really sure why I switched those two words around. It just sounded cool. Actually, I tried to make that Latin, but I am not yet knowledgeable enough in the language, and I'm tired.