Sucktastic Day

I know I’ve been doing a lot of very boring “recounting my days” posts lately. And I’m sure that’s because I’ve been so preoccupied with my first story for the new blog (www.write 52in52.blogspot.com just in case you forgot). But I got that sucker finished last night and went ahead and posted it a day early. It’s loose and a bit sloppy in places. It wanders a bit and isn’t entirely focused where I wanted. But there might be some good stuff in there. Maybe some good jumping off points, some nice use of language and perhaps an intriguing character or two. I don’t know, what do you think? (Hint, hint, hint.)

And that’s about the only positive thing I have to say about today.

Packing was more like moving this morning. My children were firmly entrenched into their nana and papa’s house in pretty much every possible way. So I had to scour the entire house to find all their crap so that The Girl didn’t throw a fit at bedtime tonight because we happened to have left her “most favorite” baby behind.

As I was getting dressed this morning, The Boy came in and before I got my bra on, he looked at me and said “Ew mom, what are those things hanging down?!?” I almost cried right there and then.

I haven’t really made this public knowledge as of yet, because well, our current life circumstances would probably make you all look at me (and my husband if you know him) like we’ve completely lost our minds, but we’ve been trying for baby #3 since July and I am, once again, not pregnant this month. We’ve never really had to try all that hard to get pregnant and, well, let’s just say that I’m starting to get frustrated.

We have bare cupboards and the teensiest of money with which to fill them. The children are whirligig spaz cases that are making me crazy and have been the opposite of helpful for the past two days.

And to top it all off? I’ve got another fucking headache.

Tomorrow will be better. There will be gin. And a day with my college roommate.

This? This is a Vent

I woke up crabbier than crabby this morning so today’s post is just one big ‘ol vent session. I was going to vent on Facebook and then remembered that today is Veteran’s Day and felt like a big ‘ol selfish person for wanting to vent instead of thanking all the soldiers past, present and future. So you get it instead. Feel free to just come back tomorrow.

The children don’t have school today and I would love to take them to Denver and go the Natural History Museum or the Children’s Museum or go out for a fun lunch at one of their favorite places. But I can’t do any of that. I can’t drive to Denver because I have to conserve gas. I can’t even take them to McDonald’s for lunch let alone Fargo’s or Chuck E. Cheese. I can’t really do anything with them today because we have no fucking money.

I’ve tried really hard to stay positive about this whole financial crisis that we’re in. I’ve tried really hard to keep it all in perspective and know that it’s for the best and will give us a chance at real stability instead of credit card funded illusion. I’ve struggled to keep the bitterness at bay by taking responsibility for my actions while not laying a gigantic morass of guilt around my neck. I’ve done all of these things every day since we first realized that bankruptcy was our only option.

But today? Today I am angry and bitter and guilty. Because I manage the money in this house and I am apparently so good at it that I managed us right into near complete financial ruin. I so want to take my sweet children and do something fun and frivolous today and I can’t because I fucked up. And that feels pretty awful. And that’s not even touching the guilt that floods if I consider what would happen if one of the cars broke down or our heater went out.

Today I want to throw a huge, out of control temper tantrum about the whole thing and go to Starbuck’s on the way to Red Robin. But I can’t. And that sucks.

Utterly Irrational

I have a totally irrational hatred of Tom Brady. The man just brings out the worst in me. I cannot bring myself to think positive thoughts about him regardless of how nice he is or how well he plays the game of football. I mean I am sitting here watching him literally have a record breaking game where he just threw 5 touchdowns in one quarter. Not one half, not in the whole game, in one freaking quarter. And I cannot bring myself to be even mildly amused by this. I find myself screwing up my face and sticking out my tongue at the TV.

Keep in mind that I still feel this way about Tom Brady knowing that I have nothing to lose in my fantasy matchup this week with him. I can’t even explain it away that way. One would think I’d have the same kind of wrath towards Drew Brees at least for this week after watching him have yet another game of his life annihilating the Giants as I watched him rack up points for my opponent. It’s painful to lose like this granted, but Drew Brees is a good comeback kid kind of guy so even though he single handedly assured my loss this week, I still kinda like the guy.

Every time I see Tom Brady’s stupid name in the headlines I cuss him out under my breath. It makes me crazy that his pretty face married a supermodel. Even his sweet baby irks me. It’s totally irrational. To the point where I have never even had a Patriot player on any of my fantasy teams. I just don’t want any association with him (although I’m about to break that rule by picking up Maroney as a possible workhorse running back).

The only thing I can come up with to even come close to explaining it is that it’s all just so cliché. He’s the star quarterback pretty boy who always gets the job done and always gets the girl. He’s “humble” and easy going. He’s charming and professional and oh so focused. And it’s always a given that he’ll win.

He may as well be a cardboard cutout.

Sick Kiddos

Holy crap I’m tired of having sick children! I’ve been either pinned underneath The Girl with a 104 degree fever or trying to talk The Boy out of terrifically long bouts of whining all day. Well, that and at the doctor’s office. They both have the flu and ear infections. Because you know, the flu isn’t enough and my children are trying to be over-achievers. And when I asked the doctor today what we could do to help them she essentially said that we just had to suck it up and wait for it to go away. So, as you can imagine my nerves are raw, my temper is flaring and if I don’t get some personal space soon I might start screaming.

And I find myself wishing for spring and summer. Not that the kids don’t get sick in those seasons, but if they do it seems to be much shorter-lived and nowhere near as often. But I love winter. I really do. I love jeans and big comfy sweaters. And I truly adore flannel sheets. On the other hand, I absolutely abhor being hot. I would rather be uncontrollably shivering than sitting in a puddle of my own sweat. So I almost never actually look forward to summer. But here I am wishing for it because I just can’t take any more sickness. Or wind. Jiminy Christmas the wind will drive me fucking batty if the sickness doesn’t.

So here I am, babbling in your general direction, for the third (or fourth?) straight day. And I am really sorry about that. But I just can’t bring myself to write something of substance right now. This is actually venting thinly disguised as mere babbling. And as sorry as I am for venting in your general direction, if I don’t vent somewhere I’ll wind up being nominated for the World’s Worst Mother for yelling at sick children.

I ask you to just bear with me good readers. The children will get better. And I will regain my own personal brand of sanity. Levity and personal space will return to my life. All will once again be well and healthy. And then the tulips will bloom.