I'm just tired. I'm tired all the time. My sugars are good and I am still tired all the time. I would kill to be able to fit exercise in into the course of the day, but I'm too damned tired and fuzzy-brained to do it and I know I'm gaining a couple pounds.

So I'm planning an escape, as far as my mind can hold the thought. I'm thinking I could get the bike tires inflated tonight. I could pump a little at 9 and at 11. I pump at 11 for Sherry, usually, because I only get one pumping in at work for the boobies. I could leave the pumped milk behind for Mike to try to keep the hungry ravening baby happy in the morning, if she wakes up when I leave. Mike says she has the uncanny ability to sense the second I leave the house because she suddenly becomes the most ravenous, starving, must-see-mama-now baby on the planet.

The only other problem as I see it is going to be convincing myself I'm not three sheets to the wind exhausted out of my mind and that I can get up to bike around.

The other thing is that I could swim, but something weird happened with that.

I asked all these women in my apartment complex if they'd like to join me and the only one who ever showed up is this wheelchair-bound woman, Melinda. I like Melinda; she's bright, funny and kind. The thing is that her caregiver said she'd get in the pool with us, but she never does. She just sets this Melinda in the pool, as if she's going to leave her there for me to deal with because her caregiver has, on more than one occasion, left abruptly to go home "for a minute" or go chat with someone.

Without her caregiver in the pool or in the area, I'm frightened that if something should happen to Melinda, that I might not be able to save her. She has poor motor control and I can see her panicking and glomming onto me to stay afloat, which would put us both in jeopardy. I would be scared to death if she started having problems. She doesn't wear a life jacket, but normally is wearing one of these $1.49 plastic inner tube things, so she's not swimming under the safest of conditions, which bothers me a great deal by itself. The fact that her caregiver kind of comes and goes when I'm out there, also disturbs me.

So, it's come to the point to where I've just decided that I will get a club membership rather than try to sneak out to swim.

And you're all thinking...well, why don't you talk to her about your concerns? The problem is that Melinda's speech is very difficult to understand and she speaks loudly, so it wouldn't be a very private conversation, and I'd want it to be private, so I didn't offend her caregiver, who's a neighbor, too.

It's just kind of awkward and I don't want anyone's feelings to get hurt because I have to live with these people. So, I've been giving the appearance of flaking out on it, though I think about going to the pool all the time.

Tonight, I snuck out after 10 and the air was colder than the water, which made the water inviting, but made the getting out a total bitch. I put in some time though and now I'm feeling better, so hey, there's hope. The other issue with going out earlier is that there's so many screeching kids and you end up getting pummeled by overzealous swimming monkeys as they dive, swim, stroke to close to you. And the noise is deafening.

It's one thing when it's your kid. It's quite another when it's 10 of someone else's children. In that case, children become heathen thugs. Even in play where your child is involved, your child is innocent and the rest of them are unsupervised, poorly behaved candidates for juvenile hall.