What worries me

.. is that it is 1.45am and I am still awake.
I am very tired, but I cannot sleep. I lie down, get comfy in bed and my brain goes into some weird hyperdrive and I feel awake. I get up - walk about a bit, start to feel tired, go back to bed knowing that the girl child will wake in approximately four hours ready to start the day with renewed vigour, lie down, brain wakes up, same thing happens etc etc.
My thought processes are simple (no smart comments at the back please)... first of all I think of the copy edit I've just started on Jumping in Puddles and which I have a week to complete - which leads me to the fact my sister is getting married in exactly one week and there is a LOT of wedding stuff to be done.
Not to mention she has two children who need looking after and I seem to be doing my fair share of the looking after while she does weddingy things which cannot easily be completed with her kids in tow.
Her daughter, who is 7, isn't a bother. She and J play together like mad thing with only occasional hysterics and falling out. Her son, who is 10 months, is a canny wee sausage. Now I'll state this here - I love him. I love the very bones of him. He is the squishiest, cuddliest, funniest baby boy in the world. But he likes to make you (by you I mean me) work for any form of positive feedback.
And he has a way of making me sing 'Wind the Bobbin Up' on a loop like a complete feckwit just to get one of his very elusive smiles.
Said smile would light up the universe so it is worth the wait... but my own baby girl (who is the most placid child in christendom) spends a lot of her time just sitting her chair looking at me with a "Sing to ME mummy" look of resignation on her face.
So, anyway, I digress.... after worrying about whether or not my ten month nephew actually likes me or merely tolerates me I am no closer to sleep.
So I decide to think about my house. And I spend ten minutes wondering what George Clarke off The Home Show would do if I gave him a cheque for 50,000. Would he be able to do anything? Feck knows, but I'd have to keep the original features in the living room and get a new bathroom. So I plan the new bathroom - and kitchen - and get ridiculously excited and wonder how on earth I could actually afford to do the work and then my brain turns to my writing once again and whether or not it is good enough to actually make me any of those lovely big cheques Marian Keyes gets...
So I resign myself to my bathroom never getting done.
And I start to think about writing - already having freaked out at the Jumping in Puddles edit I turn my attentions to book 4 - now called 'Finding Annie' and I start plotting out the next scene until I'm lost in a whirlwind of witty (I hope) dialogue and love interests and then of course I lie there thinking "I'm nowhere near sleeping, maybe I should just get up and write..." which I don't because I don't want to wake up (yes, the stupidity of that statement is obvious).
But I still can't sleep. So I give up and come down stairs and eat a Wispa (I have PMT, okay.... I needed the chocolate. Don't judge me!) and blog a little and then berate myself for not constructively using my insomniac time.
And I feel tired again.
It's 1.56am.