Someone is trying to tell me something
So, um, while I was busy huddling up and packing, I was also managing to stick my foot in my mouth over and over with various key people. It would’ve been a thing of beauty if, say, I was in some sort of contest to see how angry and annoyed I could make every person that came into contact with me without actually evoking a ballpoint pen to the eyeball from any of them.
As it was, no one stuck anything in either of my eyes, but I developed a persistent ocular leak, nonetheless. I pondered the options for living a solitary life in the wilderness. The pros and cons would take some time to weigh, but in the meantime, I didn’t want to miss my upcoming getaway. Plenty of time to decide to withdraw from society after I go piss off some other people in a different state!
And there was just ONE THING I needed to take care of before I was cleared for take-off.
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Huddle up
Allow me to summarize the previous post, which you were all kind enough to indulge me in:
I’m feeling needy because someone was MEAN to me and it wasn’t FAIR and I’m MAD and SAD (and I do not like it, Sam I Am) and I am also quite NEUROTIC and I think perhaps I have ISSUES and did I mention I’M NOT DEALING WELL?
There. If you hadn’t read the post, before, now you can skip it. That was much more concise.
So what happened after that? I got down to the business of keepin’ on keepin’ on. Last time I checked, I didn’t really have a choice. So! Onward! Sort of.
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Needy
There are things I know, and there are things I feel.
I know that my children’s behavior is oftentimes not an accurate barometer of my fitness as a parent. But I need to see them behave properly to feel like I’m doing my job.
I know that a task well done, to the best of my ability, should be its own reward. But I need to have it acknowledged to feel like it matters.
I know I shouldn’t be so affected by others. Yet I fall apart and readily doubt myself the moment it is suggested to me that I have failed to meet expectations. Even when I know that the person making the accusation is wrong.
What’s up with that?
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I’m still in my pajamas
That’s right. It’s almost 1:00, and I’m still in my jammies. So are the kids. (In their jammies. Not mine. That would be a wee bit too much “family togetherness,” don’t you think?) It’s raining out and we’re not going anywhere, so instead we’re eating pizza in our jammies and watching endless episodes of “Teen Titans.”
My fictitious children (read: my planned-for children, before I actually had children, and, you know, got smacked upside the head by Real Life) never watched more than an hour of television per day, and they never watched anything with any type of violence. My real children have shared in what turned out to be an incredibly long and stressful week and they need a day of total down time just as much as I do, and they happened to bring this DVD home from Daddy’s. And “Teen Titans” makes me giggle, and I haven’t yet noticed it upping their propensity to leap tall buildings in a single bound or anything, so how bad could it be? So, yeah.
I really wanted to post today to say that HEY it was an awful week and IT’S OVER NOW, but I have been foiled. It’s not over yet. BUT. I’m in my jammies in the middle of the day. Tralala!
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Toot toot!
You should click to see the whole thing. I suppose it may not make you laugh as hard as it did me, but this made my day. I love it when people get me. And I love it when I can laugh at myself. Go give Cathy at Domestic Psychology some love for passing it along.
Today was a good day because…
1) I did not puke.
2) It was sunny.
3) A crisis item which has been chapping my hide for several weeks came to an indisputable end. Favorably, even.
4) I did not puke.
5) Another crisis item that cropped up was completely solved. By me. ME ME ME. (Note to anyone work-related who may be reading: I totally deserve a raise.)
6) It’s almost Friday.
7) I did not puke.
8) I am figuring out that it’s possible to get really angry with someone and they will still love me.
9) I am figuring out that if they still love me, chances are excellent that I won’t be able to stay (so) angry.
AND…
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Shaken, not stirred
It’s often said that the cruelest thing you can do to another person is “kick them when they’re down.”
I would posit that this was declared by someone utterly unused to being down.
Rather–if you consider it for a bit–it becomes clear that while in “crisis mode,” a person is fairly well-equipped (even if not particularly willing) to take on more adversity in the mix.
No, the cruelest thing you can do to another person is kick them when they’re on their way back up. It shatters any sense of relief they may have been enjoying. It bypasses whatever level of “down” they were previously at and puts them back at square one… except now, square one is more like square -83.
What revisions to common sayings would you suggest? Please discuss, while I find some cream to put on this rash.
She had plenty of h-r-n-d and g-k-l-s*
The Birthday Extravaganza Weekend of 2005 has drawn to a close. There are big dolls and medium dolls and little tiny dolls. There is a Polly Pocket mermaid aquarium where the little fish will actually swim around when you fill it with water. There is a pretty pink outfit with matching hair bows and a beautiful bathing suit and oh, the books and crafts and kits. It’s enough to keep a 7-year-old busy for quite a while.
Chickadee is 7 whole years old. I have not strangled her, nor sold her to the gypsies, nor traded her for goods or services that are a better return on my investment.
I think I deserve the mermaid aquarium thing. Or at least another piece of cake.
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Put away your books and take out a #2 pencil
1) When is the first official day of Spring in New England?
A) March 20th.
B) Opening day at Fenway.
C) Chickadee’s birthday.
D) Wait, they have Spring in New England?
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The tale of the tea party
Y’know, when I was making those aprons, with the Sugar and Spice pockets, I was having a good giggle. Girls are most certainly NOT composed of sugar and spice and everything nice. At least, none of the girls that I know are. Girls are made of hyper and melodramatic and everything self-centered.
Though that is not nearly as pithy. Sometimes the truth just doesn’t make for adorable aphorisms.
This is not to say that the birthday party was not a grand time. Insofar as you can cram a group of girls into a small space and force them to pay homage to another girl hogging the spotlight, I’d say it was a rousing success. Truly.
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