I hate what’s wrong with me. I especially hate it when I haven’t leveled off or even when I’m manic. I already felt like ripping my skin off (not a new feeling), although I think my face brush took off a layer or two so that helped.
I’m not fit to be a mom. I’m not fit to be a wife. I’m just a waste of space.
No, nothing is going to happen. I’ll be fine. I always am. These sentences just keep repeating themselves in my head and I had to get them out. I CAN’T STAND the way I feel sometimes. And this is such a shit post. But I’m keeping it. Not so you feel sorry for me. I needed to get it out.
I just hate not knowing what I’m actually fit for.
So, I’ve spent my day getting pulled in 4 different directions by all my “kids”, human and furry. Let’s take a step into my world…
One dog, who has been resting for over a week now because of hind pain and a roller coaster diet, had finally “exploded” in the house overnight. This, we surmise, is due to the fact that he hasn’t been able to lift his tail properly to go in a normal manner. It did not end with that episode, for it continued throughout the day, in and out of the house, rain or shine. And apparently, wiping asses is not limited to the human children in this house. Nor is it limited to asses, for the tail got involved at one point. Maybe he was trying to help clean up. Tip: Bounty is doggie toilet paper…
My other dog has taken a cue – or some kind of germ – from the first, because she has had me jumping up (when I could sit down) to run her outside for some “runs” of her own. At one point, she was doing her post-movement-cover-up with grass and mud and shot clumps far and hard enough to hit the house (she was rather excited because a dog was walking by the house). I think she needs to go out again. She’s staring at me…
My youngest is having her own bathroom troubles from I don’t know what, on top of having an ulcerated, bleeding rash again. That she wants to scratch. It takes some acquired skill to keep a hand and 2 feet out of that mess. And because of her cleanse, her growing, her being a 7 month old, she’s hungry a lot. Of course, I’m going to feed her. Just got to get settled in aaaaannnnddd…
The 4th direction, I mean, the 3-year-old wants – no, NEEDS “piggy cow moo and milk”. That’s chocolate milk in our house. Or she’s really hungry but can’t make up her mind about what she wants to eat and shoots down every one of my suggestions. Or she has to go to the bathroom – or has already gone in her pull-up. Every damn time one of the other three needs my help. Not a minute before. At least any sign of IBS from her has not been seen. Thankfully. Still have a few hours though…
I love my kids. Remember that when I say the next thing. My daughter annoys the piss out of me sometimes. So much so, that I tell her that I hope that she’s blessed, not with a child like her, but with a child like me. True story.
My goal, as of now, is to blog about something every day. But why do I feel like I’m short on topics? This would surprise people who know me, because I never shut up. Do I “mommy blog”? That’s not me. Yet, it is. I’m a mom. It’s what I do. Hell, I’m bottle-feeding my youngest while typing this post with one hand while keeping an eye on my oldest, who insists on licking her arm for reasons unknown to me. (Once a mom, always a mom…right, mum?) May seem a bit careless, but these two are under my watch and they’re still here, so I must be doing something right. Guess I should repeat that to myself every day, because most of the time, I feel like a lousy mother. Well, I do.
This is my life now. Has been for over 3 years. Before this, I used to go out all the time. Wouldn’t go anywhere before 9 because places were only starting to pick up around then. Now, I’m lucky if I can stay up until the kids are in bed. Do I miss that lifestyle? Not really. Every once in a while, I’ll “indulge” and go out with my friends. We’ll have fun, but it’s just not the same. That doesn’t mean I don’t want a Jack on the rocks, even at 10 in the morning. (No. I don’t do that. I just have water on the rocks instead.) The least I can say about that is I’ve had my experiences, so I’ll be on to these 2 little chickies when they get older and try to sneak one by me. Thankfully, I still have some time before that happens.
I caught a story on the Today Show this morning about a teenager who underwent plastic surgery with the hope that it would prevent bullying that she used to receive when she was in school. I call this post “Confused” because I can’t believe that we’ve come to this point. I mean, I know this isn’t a new story but why? Why has our society come to the point that bullying is so bad that people are taking these extreme measures? I’m not saying that I’m perfect. I know I bullied classmates. I was bullied too. We all played both sides at some point in our lives. Did plastic surgery cross my mind? I don’t believe so. Did I get depressed over it? Hell yes. I can say that I thought of ways “out”, but I also thought that a lot of teenagers went through that at some point. (I also didn’t know for many years that I was bipolar, but that’s another post.)
I’m not exactly sure where I’m going with this. I just found it sad that we let people get to us so much that we’re willing spend money on things that we don’t even need. What’s worse is when it goes to the ultimate ending.
Someone once said to me “They aren’t doing anything to you. You are allowing them to get to you. You are in control. Once you learn that, things will be a lot better.”
Well, here I am again. And yet, I don’t know what to say. I committed myself to this daily blogging goal and I already feel like I’m failing. Failing who? Me, I guess. I’m supposed to entertain, even if it’s just me, with thoughts and stories and I’m at a loss. I did have a good monologue going on in my head earlier. Unfortunately, mom duties prevailed and I didn’t have a free hand to type.
Now that I think about it, maybe I’m not failing. I am writing, even if it is shit. We can’t be witty all the time. And quite frankly, I don’t want this just to become another mommy blog. Yes, I may talk about my kids from time to time, but I used to be much more than that. I like to think that it’s lying dormant, waiting for the right opportunity to be unleashed. My hopes lie here. I could make a list of things to write about to appease my OCD side, but I prefer the whole stream of consciousness idea.
I feel pressured, by myself, to do this and that is why I’m coming up short on topics. Give me a couple more posts so I can loosen up a bit. I’m also hindered by that whole “Watch what you post, it will be there forever” way of thinking. Yes, be mature about it and don’t embarrass others and all that jazz. I just turned 35. I’m not new to this world (well, blogging, I am). The problem is that my life is more or less an open book. I’m just going to have to find that balance because that’s not necessarily the case with those around me. Hopefully, you’ll stick with me while I work out the kinks.
Yesterday, I posted a saying on my Facebook timeline- “Tomorrow is the first blank page of a 365 page book. Write a good one. 2014“. I said to myself – and my husband – that this isn’t a bad idea, meaning to take it quite literally. Granted, I don’t know if anyone will read it. I think that’s half of my purpose in doing this, but I’ll be realistic about it. In any case, if I write something every day for the next year (which would be the “new me” part), at least I’ll have something to remember the year in the end.
Not a very good draw-them-in first paragraph, I know. What I do know is that I always have a million things going on in my head and I’m mostly around a 3-year-old and 7 month old. It has to get out somehow and it’s either lost upon or drowned out by, at least, one of them. No brainer there.
Is it going to be “a good one”? Everyone has their opinion. Just don’t think that this is going to be one of those life-affirming, rainbow-creating gems that everyone wants to read at the beginning of a new year so that maybe, just maybe, they’ll retain some sort of positive outlook on life. I do have a dark side with a rapier wit. There’s a lighter side to me too. It just depends on the day and whether there is Xanax left or not.
If it does get dark around here, don’t think of it as a cry for help. I need a place to rant, get things off my chest, out of my mind. Most likely, I’m not the only one who feels or thinks certain things.
So the first page is done. A bit boring and nothing really learned from it, but if the “new me” sticks around and keeps up with this, you may very well be in for one hell of a ride.