Where Oh Where...

Has fun Danica gone? Oh where oh where can she beeee???

It's Monday.

I originally started writing this blog post on Friday ... I am just not 'feeling myself' these days. (My mother always told me that was a dirty habit anyway ... snort ... okay, so I'm still in here with my twisty humor, it's just subdued somewhat.)

I think Stretch and I need to start attending therapy together. It should be called: "Child Neck Wringing Aversion Therapy". I will preface the following with a disclaimer: Much of this behavior is likely due to her reaction to me and my overall lack of patience ... tolerance ... sleep ... sense of ha ha ... patience ... aggression avoidance ability ... I could go on, but you get the point. My children are my entire reason for being (most of the time). I would peel my own skin off with a cheese grater if it meant saving them from harm ... but so help me ...

Stretch is a pretty smart kid.... so, it begs the question: WHY - Oh fruit of my loins are you daring me to hurt you? Why must you hammer my buttons with such alarming acuity? Hmmm? Testing the bounds of motherly love, are we?

Let me save you the trouble, sweet child o mine - it isn't as boundless as the posters and long distance commercials make it seem. There have been days ... very recently, in fact, that I have had a hard time walking away from her and her saucy puss. Moments when I want to hurt her. I was washing her hair the other night after a particularly grueling evening and so help me, I was rough. She has a fairly sensitive scalp and she was wailing ... Shorty was at the end of the tub looking up at me saying: "No parent should ever do that to their kids". She's right to a certain extent ... I mean they were both seriously over reacting, but the fact is - I have so much excess bullshit going on in my head right now, I can't seem to deal. That isn't their fault. I am the adult - I am supposed to be able to put up with their crap - no matter what.

Yet, I am not... and I hate myself, my husband, my boss, my mother, my life, and anything I forgot to mention for it. I am floundering and it is everybody's fault it would seem... I do not want to be this person/wife/mother. I do not want to live without my sense of ha ha... not even if it is just for a few months in the winter.

Last week was a  challenging one, from the beginning. We had both an in-service and a snow day and my girls were shack-happy. Hubs has been working insane hours from home and this left them somewhat to their own devices ... not so much of a good thing, really.

Come Friday evening, my house looked as though someone had picked it up and shaken it ... violently. Our house is big - like over 3000 square feet of interior space, big ... 3000 sq ft of semi flat surfaces on which copious amounts of kid crap can live ... not to mention husband, pet and general household crap. (Merely setting the tone for my over all mood when I came home  ... freshly freed from the grip of the Narcissus.) The dishwasher was full to overflowing with dirty dishes ... sigh. The kitchen sink was full of more dirty dishes, the girls had been doing crafts at the dining room table and there was everything from marker and sparkles to paint and popsicle stix glued to my prized possession (my table) - the house was disgraceful ...

Thankfully (to whatever brainwave told me to succumb to the rantings of my offspring as I picked them up from their father's custody) I bought them dinner from the drive thru on the way home. I wound up having a bagel for my dinner. I cleaned up the kitchen (a little) and retired to the living room and my comfy chair with my book ... shutting out reality on the whole. The kids were still up when my Hubs got home and we put them to bed. All the while I am feeling this guilty/aggressive/passive/angry tug at my innards. I was angry with him for leaving things in such a state, then guilty because he's worked like a zillion hours these past two weeks, then guilty some more for not cooking him and Mom their dinner then aggressive because of that guilt and passive because I didn't put my own kids to bed ...

Do you think they'd cart me off to a nice peaceful rubber room if I threw myself on the floor wailing: IT'S NOT FAIR!!! IT'S NOT FAIR ... while kicking and punching everything in sight? Seems to work for Stretch when she needs to vent.

I think I may have mentioned I have been in a bit of a funk ... did I? I hate February ... it is the "Wednesday of the year" in my world. Oh -  and for the record, I hate Wednesdays too.

I need a coping mechanism.