I have to say that I think I’ve empirically proven that misery does, indeed, love company—I found it immensely
gratifying reassuring that many of YOU are in something of a funk recently, as well. It hadn’t even occurred to me before that the time change might be a factor, and that’s because I have brain damage. Because I have Seasonal Affective Disorder and OF COURSE the time change is a factor, moron, just like it is EVERY YEAR.
I’ve dug out my trusty full-spectrum light, and we’ll see if that helps.
But just to cover all of my bases, I’ve decided to try some other stuff, too. It just seems like good common sense, no? I mean, SOMETHING is bound to make me feel better. I mean, besides the realization that I’m just sort of being a whinerpants.
And SPEAKING of pants….
Faced with the choice between working out, eating better, and fitting back into the pants I already own OR driving myself clinically insane trying to find new pants that fit and don’t make me want throw myself off of a cliff, GUESS which one I chose? That’s right, I opted for insanity!
And this time, I brought the WHOLE FAMILY along!
We made a pilgrimage to the Mall of Georgia, and made a whole day out of it, and it was actually lovely. I couldn’t tell you the last time we spent the entire day together and everyone was so pleasant and well-behaved. I mean, Otto didn’t have a single tantrum! And the kids were pretty good, too. It was nice. Just what I needed.
We didn’t spend the entire time shopping, of course. We also spent some time looking at cars we can’t afford, and then we took a truck for a test drive, and let me tell you, if you’re looking for a way to convince small children that they are having more fun than is available at Disneyworld, I heartily recommend a test drive in a big truck. They thought they’d died and gone to heaven. Especially when the car salesman guy asked if we’ve ever had a truck before and Otto said we ALREADY have a truck and I piped up from the back that yes, we do, but Otto recently set it on fire, and then Otto protested and the salesman looked VERY frightened and the children laughed themselves silly.
Our family knows how to have a good time, is all I’m saying.
We also enjoyed some Mexican food, which permitted me to avail myself of another of your suggestions (helloooooo, Margarita!), and all in all it was a very cheerful day.
It was made EVEN BETTER by the fact that at the last store I opted to walk into, I finally found some pants. Woo!
And then the cherry on top was listening to the kids call their dad and explain their day. “Well, Mom needed pants. So we got tacos. And drove a truck!” I’m sure he thought maybe THEY’d had margaritas.
But here’s the part about food: Chickadee had one of those lightbulb moments a few days ago. I was looking at some crocodile-print boots online and she asked—horrified—if they were made from crocodiles.
“No, of course not, honey,” I told her. She relaxed. “They’re made of cows, like most leather stuff,” I added, carelessly.
Now, I don’t believe for a second that she didn’t know that leather comes from cows. I’m sure we’ve discussed that, before. But you know how sometimes you know something and that’s different than the moment when you KNOW something? Chickadee had one of those moments.
And she FREAKED OUT.
“I don’t think cows should DIE just for BOOTS!” she protested.
“Oh, well should they die for the cheeseburger you had last week, instead?” I replied, all empathy.
And that is how my daughter decided to become a vegetarian.
Look; I support her decision. As part of my new regime of menu-planning I’ve been cutting back on our meat consumption, already. We have a vegetarian entree a couple of nights a week. But… I’m wondering 1) how long this will last and 2) how to keep her eating balanced meals while it does. I’m already having angst over tomorrow’s planned meal (chicken lasagna) because I don’t know if I make her a separate little meat-free lasagna or I tell her to get a job and learn to cook and in the meantime, here’s some plain spaghetti, kid.
Alternatively, I could go vegetarian as well, which would force me to get more creative about meat-free options (and would balance the family; I could make half meat-free for us girls and half carnivore for the boys), and might allow me to fit back into my old pants, too.
Hey, at least margaritas are vegetarian.