What not to do when you're feeling overwhelmed with parenting your teenager

I haven't been blogging much because it has felt like I didn't have much that was positive or encouraging to share and no one wants to read a whine fest. I keep starting to write but then it goes nowhere.

We've been having a lot of parenting trouble with a certain teenager. Last night, I'd had it. I like to bake when I'm emoting largely. So making more of those amazing Oatmeal Cookies sounded like just the thing to sooth the soul. So bake I did. At dinner I had  half a glass of some wine that had been lurking in the fridge for about 3 months and ate an Americanized Japanese rice dish with hamburger and veggies in a soy sauce on rice. I ate until I was full so I had some protein on board; I should have been able to have some sugar and be okay.

I was exhausted from stress so I laid down on the couch in front of the warm fire my husband built and went to sleep while my sweet man put the kids to bed and cleaned up the kitchen (Whattaguy!).

And there I stayed and was still asleep there several hours later when my cell phone rang. It was the midwife I work with calling to say she was on her way home from a birth at the coast. As soon as I hung up I knew I didn't feel right. I felt really nauseous and "off." Had to go to the bathroom (will try not to be TMI) so I started out in that direction. I got up and took a few steps and knew I was in a bad way...hurry to the bathroom! By the time I got to the kitchen I could feel my lips getting numb and the room was spinning....just keep going....

I stumbled into the bathroom, sat on the toilet and immediately put my head between my knees (at this point I remember being thankful my son had just cleaned the bathroom). I don't know if you've ever tried, but it's not super easy to potty with your head between your knees....and there is the fun fact that our house was previously owned by someone who used a wheelchair so the toilet is set on about a 4" pedestal to make transfer easier for her. We never took that out. So there I am, tippy toes barely touching the floor, head between knees. Up to potty quickly, down to return blood to head....up to potty....down to avoid passing out. Ooops, it's not working. Very hot. Off with shirt quickly. Nope, didn't help, down with head. Blood not returning, head hot, body shaky, lips numb, I'm going down.

I collapse to the cold floor (again thankful it's clean) and manage to roll over to my back. The floor feels good. John's in the bedroom on the other end of the house, door closed, watching tv. Should I call him? No strength. He won't hear me. Visions of EMTs cramming into my bathroom to extricate the half naked dying woman are now spinning in my brain. Should I go to the hospital? What is happening? Crap. If I can even manage to get anyone here, they're going to find me lying on the bathroom floor with my pants around my ankles. Awesome. You have to pull your pants up. Ok. You can do this. 1, 2, 3, go!

Good job. I do not want to be one of those people found dead on the bathroom floor with her britches around her ankles. I wonder again if we should really call 911. Oh well I can't get to the phone and John can't hear me so I guess I have to get out of here or die on the cold bathroom floor. Maybe if I go really fast (it's only an 800 sqft house, I can do this).

My heart is still beating at a reasonable rate. Good. Maybe my blood pressure is too low. Maybe I'm having a diabetic attack from that half a glass of wine and those cookies. I gotta go get John. Breathe. You can do this. You managed to get your pants up, you can do this. Breathe...GO!

I get up and go, as fast as I can, straight for the bedroom door. I'm passing through the kitchen and I can feel the room getting dark. Move faster, get to the bed. I get to the bedroom moments from the inevitable passing out that is threatening. John's on the near side of the bed. He doesn't know I'm in a bad way, he's sprawled out comfortably across the bed. One tiny spot left on this side...collapse on it.

"Move." That was it for the energy. John wakes up, confused, and moves over.

I honestly don't remember much of what happened next. I remember not knowing if I was okay, and debating on whether or not to fill John in on the true desperation of my circumstance. I never ever lie on that side of the bed so as John began to wake up he was puzzled and asked me if I was okay. Nope, not okay.

"I think I'm gonna pass out."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know."

"Are you having low blood sugar?"

"I don't know."

At this point John is convinced that I am indeed having some sort of diabetic reaction (I have had my blood tested and I never come up anywhere near diabetes and yet every once in a great while I have these attacks.  I am hypoglycemic, though). John begins to offer me various food remedies. I kept declining. I couldn't imagine putting anything into my mouth and I was still wondering if I might be having a severe attack of low blood pressure. Just lying on the bed was helping and at least I was not getting worse. Just wait. Just wait.

So I stayed there for some time and a while later...maybe 20 minutes or so later, I was able to get up and get my pajamas on and crawl onto my side of the bed. About an hour later I was beginning to feel okay enough to go to sleep and not worry of dying in my sleep.

And now it is nearly 1pm the following day and I feel perfectly fine. Well, I'm hungry, my feet are cold, and the rest of those delicious cookies are mocking me, but otherwise, perfectly fine.

Weird.