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« Cuteness abounds tonight | Main | Just a little thought from my brain »

Pardon my french...

But it's been a real shitter of a day.  It started off with a restless sleep again - what IS it with me lately?  I've cut all caffeine after 4 and my sleep still sucks - mouthy kids, a Hubster who doesn't know when he's got it good and should just shut the hell up, a million errands that I saved to do on his day off and yet STILL had to do with the two little girls, yadda, yadda.  The Hubster finally got wise at 3:15 and called me, while I was in the pickup line at school, to see if there was anything he could do to make my life better/easier.  Yeah, you're about 9 hours too late, buddy, but the thought was there. 

I've got a few things to post, but my black mood isn't conducive to good posting.  I know it's Lent - I always struggle during Lent.  Always have a hard time with day to day life.  I feel more pressure, more stress, more anxiety.  I have more ugly feelings, less love for the other person, less patience and peace in my life.  It's a rough 40 days. 

I'm really having a hard time with Riley lately.  She is so strong willed.  I thought I had two strong willed children - they are mere shadows of this one. She throws honest to God temper tantrums at 13 months of age.  She slams her head into whatever body part of mine she can connect with, if I try to pick her up and do something she's not excited to do.  At the same time, she lifts her legs and slams them down, connecting with either my groin or my legs, depending upon her position.  Today was especially pleasant.  She got my chin and my crotch at the same time.  She screams, she yells, she cries.  She throws herself on the floor and, I swear to God, sometimes I laugh because it's so funny.  But, she's a stress filled handful sometimes, and....

I'm just a whiner lately.  Forgive me.  Hopefully I'll have something more upbeat to post later.  It's terrible when you love your children and yet occasionally can't stand them.

Comments

That's what loving aunts and uncles and grandparents are for: relief for Mom. You need some help, chica- you can NOT be superwoman ALL the time. Have you thought about a mother's helper? Is there a neighborhood tweener girl who would like to make a few dineros helping you out after school by keeping Miss never-say-die Riley occupied BUT STILL IN EYESIGHT OF MOM? Or helping out with the other little ones?

I am CONVINCED that is why our mothers never failed to have a cocktail hour- it was seriously needed stress relief!

I have one like that too. He's six now and STILL throws tantrums and hits me and screams and all that. None of his brothers behave that way. I'm not sure why he thinks he can get away with it. I'm thinking of duct taping him to a chair next time. What do you think? (I AM just kidding here. Sometimes my little fantasies help me get through it all.)

When I was growing up in my Morman family, my parents had these friends with wings and halos out in Salt Lake that were SO PERFECT my parents named one daughter after the wife and one son after the husband.

Years later, when I was a mom, this Wife told me, "There are days when I do not like anyone in my household."

That always made me feel so much better. She was the perfect mom. The perfect wife. They didn't divorce (as MINE did). The perfect Morman families-are-forever-family. AND THERE WERE DAYS THAT SHE DIDN'T LIKE ANYONE IN HER HOUSEHOLD.

I never felt so validated. And so...*whew*

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  • WANTED, Carmen, mom to the Masses, for dangerous undertakings inside and outside the home. Last seen with her partner The Hubster, and six accomplices (Nikolas, 16, Allegra, 13, Mackenzie 11, Gabriel 8, Emma 6 and Riley, 4). This fugitive is considered armed (with epi pens and inhalers) and dangerous, especially when she hasn't had her morning coffee. She is particularly difficult to recognize due to a recent 80 pound weight loss (size 18-20 down to 2-4!), and has been known to hide beneath large piles of laundry. She's a fan of running races and can be found reading, lifting weights, practicing capoeira or running to the store for milk. ( Read more here.)

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