I’ll be honest. I’m not finding the silver lining today. My head’s spinning in circles, I feel like crying, I’m exhausted, and when my kids actually acknowledge that I said something, they giggle. Or scream. Or completely ignore me. Maybe it’s just going to be one of those days. I feel like bad company, and yet, I’m lonely. I don’t want to go out, and yet I don’t want to stay in.
Ok, now that I’ve bawled my eyes out, scared the kids, reassured the kids, rescued Littlest from the entryway 4 times, and yelled at the coffee cups on my desk to stop winking at me, I feel slightly better. Well, at least I’m laughing at myself now instead of sobbing and doing the whole “woe is me” shebang. Geez.
Woops, one second, someone else is screaming. (at least it isn’t me this time, I think the neighbors think we’re crazy)
Okay, I’m back. Where was I? Oh right!
I swear, you’d think one day I’d actually just accept the fact that I am me, and I happen to have certain limitations, and that’s totally fine, but nooooo… I’m the “stubborn” one. In this case, stubborn is close to obtuse, or possibly dense. Maybe granite dense. Gotta be perfect with the kids. Gotta bake all the bread so my kids don’t eat preservatives. Gotta make all the snacks so I can save that extra $25 on our groceries and feel like I’ve made a meaningful contribution to society as we know it. Gotta keep all the cheerios off the floor so no one knows how little I care about germs. Gotta whip my kids into shape before they’re three so no one sees the amount of times I lose my temper because they’re not listening. Heaven forbid if anyone could figure that out… What’s that? You mean everyone has it happen to them? Really? You mean… I could have saved all that energy and time and actually made the snacks I was planning on? You mean… I could have had a nap????
*insert slightly maniacal laugh here*
*bang noggin on desk*
I clearly need a better plan of action. This one seems inefficient. Time for plan C! Oh, you didn’t know there was a C?
Plan C: ……….
Ok. I’m stumped. I’m just going to have to wing it.
Plan C: wing it!
If you actually managed to follow along with my deranged rantings, I sincerely applaud you from the bottom of my deranged off-the-deep-end heart. Now if you’ll pardon me, my deranged self is tired of stepping on cheerios, and since I’m “winging” it, I’m free to tell you that I really don’t care that they’re on the floor because kids need to ingest a certain amount of dirt and germs, however, I do care when they get stuck on my foot. Or my sock. Or both. So I’m going to go vacuum. And probably make those snacks I was planning on. And perhaps, just maybe, play a video game with Biggest. If you see a nuclear cloud coming from the direction of my apartment, winging it didn’t work out so well.
Until tomorrow (I hope)