Oh Monday, You Beast…

You know it’s bad when it’s only 10:15 on Monday and you’re already wishing the week is over. You know it’s even worse when you’re trying to type a post and you’ve had to restart it 3 times because it didn’t make sense. This is the fourth time, just so you know. Or maybe the fifth. I lost count. In 3 hours I’ve…

– forgotten and remembered Biggest’s birthday tomorrow twice.

– felt like learning Thunder magic so I could zap my kitchen and have it blow up.

– felt bad for having the kitchen in such a state in the first place.

– had an issue with the iron.

– called my mother about the iron, and felt bad the entire time for bothering her with it.

– yelled at Biggest more times than I care to admit for being rude, mean, or defiant.

– felt like a dismal failure for the state of things, the state of things being how I’ve used my grocery budget.

– panicked that the Cheerios I fed Littlest this morning were going to kill him.

– felt like a dismal failure for the diaper situation because Littlest pooped a minimum of 3 times a day for the last week and my estimates were way off.

– burnt my second pot of coffee (f***, pardon the non-expletive)

– double booked myself.

– bawled my eyes out.

– felt like cancelling Biggest’s birthday party because he’s been such a butt.

– cringed at what kind of flack I’d get for cancelling his birthday party.


I think that’s it. Oh yeah, and I’ve rethought my opinion on almost everything related to how my house is run at least twice.

There. I feel better. That’s a lie. (Can you tell I’m crabby?)



Have you ever had one of those moments where a decision you thought was a good idea at the time just comes back to bite you in the ass? That is my iron situation. My husband has an interview tonight, but since he has classes to go to this afternoon, he’ll be going straight from class to the job site. Normally speaking, that wouldn’t be a problem, but I hung his dress pants to dry instead of putting them in the dryer, and thought nothing of it. Seeing the wrinkles that permanently applied themselves, I got my first butt nibble. Note to self: Dress pants go in the dryer. Next, I started ironing. My iron is old, and I use my table for an ironing board, and so far, it’s worked out nicely. I had considered getting a new iron and board earlier this winter, but with how little I was using it, I figured I could just make it work. Nibble #2. After frantically calling my mother, I was advised to turn the pants inside out. At which point, I was so upset that I double creased my husband’s pants, and couldn’t figure out how to iron the crotch inside out. At some point, my husband took pity on me, and graciously accepted my offering. I sincerely hope his potential employer doesn’t look closely, although why you’d look closely at someone’s nether regions is beyond me. *cross fingers here* (Sorry for the idiot haven’t-ironed-in-years call, Mommy.)


On top of all that, I am having yet another crisis-of-self. I really have to shake my head, because despite all of my intentions, and lessons taught to myself, I still have these all the time. Maybe everyone else does too, or maybe I’m just really vocal about my lack of self esteem, I’ll never know for sure. My family and I are close. Like wear each other’s socks close. Of late, though, I have been attempting to learn a more adult way of visiting and conversing, and it seems to be failing me. Part of it is that I’ve got other things to deal with (like Biggest being a butt), and part of it is that I’m learning to trust my own opinion, while respecting someone else’s. That, though, is the clincher, because up until now, I’ve tended to seek advice from others, and most of my information-exchange conversations are more along the lines of coming up with an opinion or a plan, rather than “this is mine, what’s yours?”. Now that I’m trying to keep my own opinions instead of being a chameleon, I have no idea how to communicate. It’s frustrating, I’ll admit, especially since it never used to be a problem for me. Mind you, that was also before I became aware that parenting is constantly judged. Either way, I’m at a loss. Maybe it just takes practice, or maybe I’m trying too hard to keep my opinions, and it’s coming off as either standoffish or defensive. Or maybe it’s just my perception. Even just reading this back to myself is making me disgusted. Perhaps this is the line? Maybe I should just make a declaration of self and leave it at that? I am me, hear me roar?


This week better be done soon, or my head might explode.

Clean up in Aisle 4!

The Handler.



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