Bringing Crazy Back

So.  Let's just lay it out there.

I went back to my counselor a couple Fridays ago.  And I didn't tell my husband I'd made the appointment until 30 minutes before leaving for said appointment.

Why?  Meh.  Because I didn't want him worrying about the crazy.

Anyway, I go.  And I mighta cried.  (totally cried)

Her words to me: "I've never met anyone who is harder on themselves than you."

I sit there and the tears come, not because of her words but because of the reason she said what she said.

"I don't know what it's supposed to look like.  My days, I mean.  I'm home with my kids all day long but sometimes at the end of a day and more often than I'd like to admit, I realize I haven't just spent time with them.  I've cooked and cleaned and busied myself but I haven't just sat to play."

"I'm impatient and crabby.  I yell.  And I've been known to throw stuff."

"And then there's Josh.  Who, in 6 years of parenting has never raised his voice to our children.  Will always take the time - even if it's 2 hours, to explain to our kids how to do something when he could have gotten the job done in 20 minutes had he shooed them away like I do."

"I used to judge those women who could up and leave their families.  I mean, how could they?!  Well, now I know.  I see how.  Sometimes I think they'd be better off without me.  Josh is great with them all on his own."

I tell her I don't think I'm a good wife and she asks me why, besides some obvious reasons I tell her about, I also tell her that Josh makes his own breakfast every morning.  And sometimes his own lunch.

And she laughs at me.

"That's why you're a bad wife?"

Apparently a lot of men make their own breakfast and lunch and I should not feel bad.

Also, many women don't feel they spend the right amount of time with their kids.  It's not just me.  She says for as crazy as I feel, I'm actually quite normal.

You realize that means you're crazy with me, right?

But she did tell me that it's not healthy to feel that my family would be better off without me.  That that's not good.  That maybe I should try some medicine to get my brain working right again.

(let the onslaught begin)

I have never been opposed to medication that helps someone.  Ever.  Mainly because I feel the first time you judge someone for an action, you're next, dude.

She's recommended a doctor and a medicine.  Honestly...I'm considering it.  Sent a friend a text after my appointment to let her know all went well and what was suggested.  Her response was that I should get a double amount and we'd split them and the co-pay.  Silly, kid.  Like I'm gonna share my crazy goods.

I started this post a couple of weeks ago.  I've had time to think about the meds.  And I don't think I'm going to do it.  I don't know.  It freaks me out.


Anyway.  I guess the deal is, I need to figure some stuff out.  I need to figure out how much time is okay to spend cooking, cleaning, playing with kids, teaching, texting, blogging, working out, etc.  I need to figure out how to not wake up in the night with sweat pouring off me because I'm a nervous wreck I'm ruining my family's life because I'm a sucky wife and mom and housekeeper.

13 years in, man, and I'm still no good at this and that's why I have my days, my weeks, my months where I feel they'd be better without me here.

Those meds are lookin' better and better.

Starbucks Winner!

Thanks to everyone for the ideas to keep Spice occupied during school time with Sugar.  Totally appreciate your awesome ideas.

This video might make ya a lil car sick.  Sorry!

{best}

In the deleted scenes in the movie, P.S. I Love You is the quote: "You never have another best friend like that first one you have when you know who you are in life."

It's my favorite quote ever.  Because, for me, it is so true.

I can tell her anything without making her gasp.  Nothing about me surprises her.  She loves me.  Puts up with me.

Gets me.

I went an entire year without her and, quite honestly, was in mourning the entire time.  It was an awful, miserable year.  I'm so thankful it's been a year since that year.  I'm thankful for her.  For our friendship.  Thankful that she has just as awesome of a singing voice to Wilson Phillips as I do.

I'm thankful she likes to toilet paper houses in broad daylight.

I'm thankful we didn't wreck while she was driving, singing, texting and picture taking all at the same time.

Dorothy.

It's you and me, babe.  We.

I love you.  Forever and ever.

And I never wanna know again what a day without you is like.

Quick! Help Needed. Starbucks gift card as inspiration!

Hey!  Okay, so I just have a coupla minutes but need your input.

We're starting school back up in a few weeks and I'm trying to get some ideas together to keep Spicey Spice entertained for the couple hours Sugar and I are working.

Otherwise we'll end up with this again.

I'm thinking boxes labeled Monday-Thursday that she can have filled with goodies.  I need ideas for the goodies.  Games, or toys or books.

Any ideas?  Give me ideas of any kind to keep this girl entertained and I'll randomly select a winner on Thursday for a gift card to Starbucks.

Thank you!!

When good hygiene was a bad idea

We're presently on vacation. If you call camping with two small children and a Beagle a vacation. (I do not) (I call it paying for torture)

We're in Idaho. I love Idaho. People wave hello and carry guns and drive their ATVs down the highway. This is my kinda country.

Today we decided to blow the children's inheritence and took them to Silverwood. For those of you unaware, Silverwood is a theme park with a waterpark. Great fun. (eye roll) Okay, so it wasn't so bad. You know til one of my most embarrassing moments occured.

The girls are pretty young for the roller coaster part of the park so we just went to the water side. I was wearing a tank top and my bikini bottoms.

We play in the water. It's all fun and games.

Til it's time to use the restroom.

I go in the stall. And like the good little hygiene girl that I am, I put the little paper cover down on the seat and I sit down.

And that's when I realize what a very bad idea my good hygeine moment was.

Mhm. My wet ass (pardon) stuck to the paper seat cover.

Stuck. To. It.

I stood up.

And so did the seat cover.

I had nothin'. No towel. No shorts.

So I start trying to peel the paper seat cover off of me. Of course there's a huge line of women waiting for me to leave the stall but you really think I'm going to leave with the paper seat cover plastered to me?!

Hail no.

I'm picking it off. Balling it up. Anything. Everything. Trying to get myself free. I'm sure the girl in the stall next to me was wondering what in the sam hill I was doing dancing around in there. Mostly I was just wanting to die. I left the stall. Finally. Still picking leftover paper seat cover off my body while two teenage girls stared at me.

So.

Note to self: do not (for the love!) sit on a paper seat cover if your rear is wet. It will not end well.

But(t) it will end in a blog post.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Break

I've taken a completely unintentional blog break.

Nothing's happened or happening.  Just living life instead of blogging it at the moment.

I have drafts but nothing finished or worth posting.

Maybe next week?