Dear Diary, May 31st 2011

Dear Diary,

Who the heck did I upset to deserve this?


I mean really.

I’m okay with a bad day. I’m even okay with whiney kids.

The drawer in the bathroom full of sticky bottles where the baby’s gripe water leaked? I was okay with that too.

Until I noticed the gripe water was full of ants. Apparently child proof caps can’t stop a hoard of colicky ants.

I held my cool while hunting the possible black widow spider in the garage (that was never found).

I managed to not throw up as my children drew pictures of the antennaed multi legged stripy big eyed bug they found in their bathroom- that apparently got away as well.

The tears from the emotional nine year old? Swiped, calmed and kissed.

The hour long cryfest from the baby over nothing? Consoled.

Today was sucking but I was making lemonade….and then this happened.

This figurine that I have had and glued and pieced together for at least 25 years was destroyed when the pegboard I so proudly blogged about last night fell.

As I was cuddling my sleeping toddler girl with the baby sleeping on a big pillow at my feet, the velcro strips gave way and it all came crashing down.

The velcro didn’t, but the sticky part did. It just didn’t adhere. The strips are rated to hold the weight but when Mr. gets home that will be the first thing he comments on, how I had so much on there.

But it wasn’t the velcro, it was the sticky part that failed me.

I counted my blessings that none of the sewing machines were damaged, or the wall, or the peg board and then I cried.

I feel things crawling on me constantly even when there is nothing there. Peanut and I are covered in bug bites. I have resorted to fighting off ants with furniture polish. I have wasted a day and a half trying to put out emotional fires from my kids. Now I’m feeling like a slob, and a failure, and I have retreated under my rock.  My ability to filter my thoughts before they come out my mouth was faltering and it seemed best to log out of my favorite hang outs and hide.


The Tattered Tadey

Take a knee. Or two.

Today sucks. Little sleep, cranky baby, whiny toddler. The drama started before I could finish my coffee and it wasn’t even new drama it was the same stuff from the day before and the day before and the…  well, you get the picture.
My mind is bogged down. I feel heavy. I want to fix things, heal things, clean things, organize things. I want to dance and sew and play and teach and be good and smart and funny.
All I could do was growl from the couch.
So I sent the kids outside. All of them. Even the baby.
And I took a knee.
I took two actually, in front of my couch. I laid my head in my hands on the cushion.
I cried. I stayed quiet for a while. I knew God could see what was in my heart, even if I had no words.
I prayed for everyone I could think of that had been asking/seeking/needing prayer. I left their needs at His feet.
I prayed for everyone else I could think of just because a little prayer love never hurt. I left their unspoken needs at His feet.
My laundry isn’t done. Dinner is only half ready. The kids are fighting over who gets to pull the baby in the wagon.
But I feel lighter. My to do list isn’t any shorter, but I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore.
So I guess I’ll go make lunch, and move the clothes to the dryer. I’ll fold laundry and watch Team Umizoomi with Bubbagirl until she falls asleep. Then I’ll help Doodlebug pick out something pretty to wear for her violin recital.
I’m not equipped, physically, emotionally or intellectually to help fix everything for everyone around me. The best I can do is take a knee, or two, and leave at His feet. The feet of the One.

Let there be cake.

I’m not sure what the heck happened to today. I woke up early, happy, and had coffee with Mr. Daddy Man. He had to leave super early for work and I wanted to see him before he left. The two year old woke up and then quickly dozed back off while laying on the couch. Even the baby woke up and then we back to sleep for me. I had almost and entire hour of pure quiet! UNHEARD OF I TELL YOU!
I had lessons ready, dishes washed, laundry going. I let them sleep in a bit. As the babies started to stir I started feeling the day was not going to be what I had planned so I prayed and told God I would give Him the day, I would do what He had planned. Not that I really have a choice, it was more like “okay I’m not going to fight you on it”.
Sitting on my couch now, with two kids asleep and two playing nicely, I can honestly say the day wasn’t that bad. I cut out pieces to two twirly skirts, I made a yummy dinner, hubby came home on time and was able to pick Doodlebug up from violin class. I got a shower all by myself. I had enough gas to get me home (on fumes!) but I made it to violin and to the post off to mail off some cutie things to two of my twitter friends and my sister.
Still, I spent most of the day feeling annoyed at everything. I gave up on school and let them play outside. The neighbor behind us is a single dad, he was trying to mow his grass and his four year old daughter wanted the girls to play. It got out of hand and I ended up fixing lunch for her too (no biggie… Ramen… ) and she started just walking in the house like she lived there. I’m not really upset. She’s FOUR. However, she walked in on my nursing Peanut. I thought she was my kid coming in so I didn’t think to cover up. I just don’t like feeling “invaded”. Apparently for the past few days I’ve been unusually sensitive to people getting near me, sounds, temperature. GAH! Everything has annoyed me.
I hate it. I can’t wrap my head around finishing anything either. I have articles to write. A book to read. A bible study to work on. I had plans to declutter, fold laundry, meal plan. I can’t even cut coupons!
We installed a cable box over the weekend- first time in five years that we’ve had cable or satellite.  Mr. Daddy Man returned home from work and getting Doodlebug, plopped down in the recliner and flipped through his 500 channels. My Mommy Helper pointed out that “Cake Boss” was on and I couldn’t resist asking him to watch it. I’ve never seen it before. OMG the cakes that man makes!!
Anywhoooo, after the first episode Mr. Daddy Man started talking about wanting cake. I ignored him. Then I reminded him there were brownies.
He ate the last of the brownies while he watched another episode.
We ate dinner, and he still wanted cake.
So I did what any smart deal making momma would do- I offered the man a deal.
I had my helper there entertaining the kids. I was going to shower- alone. IF the kitchen “magically” became clean before I got out of the shower then I would make cake. That meant unloading the dishwasher- and reloading. That meant finishing feeding the kids and putting away leftovers.
We had cake for desert. Just sayin’.

I must suck at parenting

God has blessed us with four beautiful children.
On a daily basis they seem to be miserable. Everything is wrong, even when it’s something they have asked to do.  The world is too heavy, too loud, too quiet, too cold, too hot, too fast, too slow.  It’s all just wrong.
Mr. B and I have worked so hard to provide for them.  To give them what they need and some of what they want.  We have turned things upside down for them, fought for them, defended them, loved them, prayed for them and yet they are miserable.
Nothing pleases them anymore.  At least nothing I seem to do.  One of them is going to be unhappy with it.  They are going to make it known, loudly.
Why did God give my these children if I was going to be such a horrible parent?

Better than you.

That’s what you say. That’s your excuse. I don’t need a break, I don’t need time alone, I can do it all but shouldn’t expect that level of work or commitment from you because I’m better than you.  I can balance it all because I’m better than you.  I should just forgive, ignore, let it go, suck it up when you can’t do or won’t do or you’re too tired or on edge or stressed or or or
because I’m better than you.
That’s what you keep saying.
My response has always been “but I’m not”.
Because I’m not.  I hurt, I get tired, I feel weak, I struggle.
I want to vomit when they vomit.
I want to scream when faced with the 5000th poopy diaper that day.
I want to yell because they won’t.shut.up. for FIVE seconds and wait for me finish typing this sentence.
I don’t feel like sitting through karate this week.
I don’t want to fake excitement again.
But I do it. Because I’m the mom. It’s my JOB and while my paycheck won’t be here for a LONG LONG TIME I will get paid.
Guess what your job is.
Your job is to suck it up, stay awake, sing the song, wipe the butt, dry the floor, fix the mac and cheese, rock, read, walk, laugh, cheer.
It is the SAME job as mine.
And you are qualified and capable of doing it.
But since I’m in a particularly rotten mood right now, I’m not going to answer you with a “but I’m not better than you” this time.
This time, I am better than you. I am stronger and more disciplined.  See, I woke up and prayed.  I got mad at you and prayed. I did dishes and prayed. I fixed lunch and prayed.
I prayed that I would be good, that I would be strong, that He would help me carry my cross without complaint.
Lunch is ready, you should probably come eat. If you are strong enough to chew your own food.

It's Throat Punch Time!

Let’s send this crap week off with a bang and get on with enjoying the weekend shall we?!
First I’d like to throat punch Monday, just because it’s Monday.
Next, I’d like to throat punch anyone who tells me I need to get more sleep.  Well, maybe not EVERYONE just MOST of them.  The ones that tell me I need more sleep and then when I try to explain why I don’t get any sleep they proceed with telling me all the things I’m doing wrong with my kids now or EVER and how if I hadn’t done those things then THEY would sleep and then I could sleep…repeat.  You are NOT helping.  When my kids DO go to sleep, I now lay in my bed and think of all the stupid parenting “mistakes” that I made and then I stay up all night trying to convince myself I am not a loser parent who should just hand over my kids to a more capable person and commit myself to the nearest psych ward.
Then, I’d like to throat punch anyone who preaches on and on about how I need to schedule “Mom Time”.  Let me make this clear, I get MOM TIME all.the.time. What I NEED is “Woman” time, or how about “Wife” time.  Better yet, can I get some “Child of GOD” time?!  I am a mom 24/7/365.25 and I would really appreciate a few moments to be something OTHER than a Mom.  I guess I could go in to the nearest psych ward for a three day volunteer evaluation but that seems a bit drastic just to score some down time.
Last, I’d like to throat punch anyone who has ever or will ever talk smack about my wondermoose friends on the interwebs!  Ya’ll ROCK MY SOCKS and keep me sane and prevent me from throat punching people in person and the very idea that someone disrespects your awesomeness …well…it makes me angry…in that “Crocodile Hunter Angray” way.
I guess it’s no surprise that when I DID get to snooze on the couch with Lil Man my dream involved a public school turned insane asylum.  I was the uber hot cocky hero man (aka. Seely Booth) running in slow motion from overweight orderlies who were once again trying to drug me so they could steal my brain tissue.