Bllleeeeeaaaaah
That pretty much sums up how I feel.
I'm not physically sick (though I am getting sick of my upper back/neck/shoulder/elbow/wrist pain). I'm mentally sick.
I'm sick of db. I'm sick of spending assloads of money trying to prevent db from making my kid's life a living hell. I'm sick of living under a microscope and being expected to prove every day that I'm a perfect mother (as if such an animal exists). I'm sick of not being allowed to make mistakes. I'm sick of being more worried than other parents when their kid says something like "I'm gassy because I've been drinking beer at mommy's house!" I'm sick of having the kid everyone is "concerned" about. I'm sick of taking my kid to doctors and therapists and psychiatrists only to be told they don't have a fucking clue what to do with him. I'm sick of being expected to "fix" whatever is or isn't wrong with him. I'm sick of worrying.
So bleah.
And I'm really sick of having only one very small bathroom in the house. Our old house sucked, but the one thing it had going for it was a relatively huge bathroom, so Ben and Bob and I could all 3 be in there in the morning and not drive each other crazy. Not so in this house. For all the space we have, you'd think they'd have upgraded the can a bit. As it is, you can poop, brush your teeth over the sink, and soak your feet in the tub at the same time. Not that you'd want to, but you could.
Can I just express how unpleasant the smell of man pee is first thing in the morning when you're trying to apply eyeliner? Or worse, brush your teeth?
There's a simple solution to this, I know--get my ass out of bed earlier, so I'm already ready already by the time the male constituency stumbles to the john. But I'm lazy. I don't want to get up earlier. I want them to get up later.
Well, not Bob. He's suddenly gone from Up With the Roosters to "Go Away, I'm Sleeping." Funny, I don't remember him turning 15. But morning has turned into a struggle just to get him out of his blanket nest and into his clothes. Which doesn't make me feel any better about being out of bed, myself.
Ben says it's because the weather is changing and we're not used to it yet. I don't think I'll ever get used to cold and dark and yuck.
I can't wait til I'm old and can fly south for the winter.
I'm not physically sick (though I am getting sick of my upper back/neck/shoulder/elbow/wrist pain). I'm mentally sick.
I'm sick of db. I'm sick of spending assloads of money trying to prevent db from making my kid's life a living hell. I'm sick of living under a microscope and being expected to prove every day that I'm a perfect mother (as if such an animal exists). I'm sick of not being allowed to make mistakes. I'm sick of being more worried than other parents when their kid says something like "I'm gassy because I've been drinking beer at mommy's house!" I'm sick of having the kid everyone is "concerned" about. I'm sick of taking my kid to doctors and therapists and psychiatrists only to be told they don't have a fucking clue what to do with him. I'm sick of being expected to "fix" whatever is or isn't wrong with him. I'm sick of worrying.
So bleah.
And I'm really sick of having only one very small bathroom in the house. Our old house sucked, but the one thing it had going for it was a relatively huge bathroom, so Ben and Bob and I could all 3 be in there in the morning and not drive each other crazy. Not so in this house. For all the space we have, you'd think they'd have upgraded the can a bit. As it is, you can poop, brush your teeth over the sink, and soak your feet in the tub at the same time. Not that you'd want to, but you could.
Can I just express how unpleasant the smell of man pee is first thing in the morning when you're trying to apply eyeliner? Or worse, brush your teeth?
There's a simple solution to this, I know--get my ass out of bed earlier, so I'm already ready already by the time the male constituency stumbles to the john. But I'm lazy. I don't want to get up earlier. I want them to get up later.
Well, not Bob. He's suddenly gone from Up With the Roosters to "Go Away, I'm Sleeping." Funny, I don't remember him turning 15. But morning has turned into a struggle just to get him out of his blanket nest and into his clothes. Which doesn't make me feel any better about being out of bed, myself.
Ben says it's because the weather is changing and we're not used to it yet. I don't think I'll ever get used to cold and dark and yuck.
I can't wait til I'm old and can fly south for the winter.
posted by Mitzi Green at 11:24 AM
1 Comments:
Pity party at my house. It's BYOB.
Feel your pain - it was kind of ironic two weeks ago to tell Joey, "what the hell else could happen?" and bam, Monkey Man ends up in ICU. Blech indeed.
Hang in there - the db situation will be resolved soon and hopefully life will get back to normal. Whatever normal is.
Post a Comment
<< Home