I’m having a bad day. And here’s the mind fuck that has been chasing its tail through my bad day pity party: I should be above bad days. Or, more to the point, I should be able to rise above bad days. I should be able to just allow them to move past me without buying into their bullshit. I should just make my mind some soothing tea and let it rant and rave without actually giving it any unwarranted attention. I should be able to slough off bad days without a care. But apparently I can’t.
Showing posts with label whining. Show all posts
Showing posts with label whining. Show all posts
1/15/10
Bad Day
10/7/09
Griping AND Whining
Since I was already griping yesterday, I thought I would continue today.
I am frigging fragging sick! And I am not even remotely happy about it. The Boy has a runny nose that just won’t quit (but that seems to be his only symptom thank goodness), my husband came home from work yesterday and went straight to bed (although by evening he seemed to be feeling a bit better) and by mid-afternoon yesterday my head had filled up and was pounding and the chills had set in. I think I slept last night from about 2 – 4am and that’s about it because I could not breathe and my head was hurting so badly that all I could do was lay very still and hope that a meteor would land squarely on my side of the bed and put me out of my misery. Now The Girl has started sneezing today (although that appears to be her only affliction which is not stopping her from pulling out her Oscar award winning rendition of “Super-cute Plague Infested Princess”). I’m hoping that if she does indeed get whatever this is, that it is light and no big deal despite the fact that she’s already coughing. But I will be in doctor’s offices with her for the next two days, so at least there’s that.
I don’t remember our household being quite so germ-ridden before The Girl landed on the scene. But I suppose it makes sense that there would be twice the number of germy hitchhikers arriving on our doorstep with both kids in school and my husband working in cubicle hell with a bunch of people who also have kids. I am so feeling like the innocent bystander here.
So the day is half gone and The Girl and I are still in our jammies. I’ve unabashedly had the TV on for the majority of the day and have no plans to turn it off. I suppose I have to drag myself upstairs to find something with which to feed The Girl soon since it is lunchtime. But I’ll tell you what, these family members who keep getting me sick will be fending for themselves for dinner.
I am frigging fragging sick! And I am not even remotely happy about it. The Boy has a runny nose that just won’t quit (but that seems to be his only symptom thank goodness), my husband came home from work yesterday and went straight to bed (although by evening he seemed to be feeling a bit better) and by mid-afternoon yesterday my head had filled up and was pounding and the chills had set in. I think I slept last night from about 2 – 4am and that’s about it because I could not breathe and my head was hurting so badly that all I could do was lay very still and hope that a meteor would land squarely on my side of the bed and put me out of my misery. Now The Girl has started sneezing today (although that appears to be her only affliction which is not stopping her from pulling out her Oscar award winning rendition of “Super-cute Plague Infested Princess”). I’m hoping that if she does indeed get whatever this is, that it is light and no big deal despite the fact that she’s already coughing. But I will be in doctor’s offices with her for the next two days, so at least there’s that.
I don’t remember our household being quite so germ-ridden before The Girl landed on the scene. But I suppose it makes sense that there would be twice the number of germy hitchhikers arriving on our doorstep with both kids in school and my husband working in cubicle hell with a bunch of people who also have kids. I am so feeling like the innocent bystander here.
So the day is half gone and The Girl and I are still in our jammies. I’ve unabashedly had the TV on for the majority of the day and have no plans to turn it off. I suppose I have to drag myself upstairs to find something with which to feed The Girl soon since it is lunchtime. But I’ll tell you what, these family members who keep getting me sick will be fending for themselves for dinner.
5/14/09
mur, mur, mur, blah, blah, blah
I don’t want to write today!! I don’t want to write today!! I don’t want to write today!! I don’t want to write today!!
I’m tired of straining for a creativity that is just not there at the moment. I’m tired of trying to come with new and interesting things to say. Especially on days like today where I am so entirely immersed in daily grind and to-do list bullshit that writing some provocative and/or interesting is just really far away from my capacity.
I’m whiny and irritated that I have this fucking cold and I’m tired because the children aren’t sleeping worth a damn and I’m busy with a bunch of stuff that in a week simply won’t matter and all of this is keeping me from doing what I really want to be doing. I want to get back into the pro bono projects I’m working on and dropped when the whole seizure/pneumonia thing happened. I want to be manifesting getting a job so I can stop stressing about our finances. I want to be getting excited about summer and everything that goes with it. I want to be drinking cocktails with my girlfriends!!
Granted a lot of this I am the only one keeping myself from achieving progress. I’m whiny and unbalanced and flailing. And that’s a choice I suppose. A choice made either consciously or subconsciously as a response to everything with The Girl and life in general right now.
And it’s a strange place to be because even though I’m all scattered and willy nilly, I haven’t really lost any of the confidence I’ve cultivated over the last year. I haven’t really lost much of the direction or conviction. I haven’t really lost much of the progress I’ve made. I’m just confidently scattered I suppose. And it’s a goofy place to be.
But here I am. So I’m trying to continue to just be with everyday and take it as it comes. Keep my head up, my shoulders back and my eyes on the prize. Keep breathing and keep on keeping on so to speak. I mean I’m bound to figure out which way is up sooner or later right?
I’m tired of straining for a creativity that is just not there at the moment. I’m tired of trying to come with new and interesting things to say. Especially on days like today where I am so entirely immersed in daily grind and to-do list bullshit that writing some provocative and/or interesting is just really far away from my capacity.
I’m whiny and irritated that I have this fucking cold and I’m tired because the children aren’t sleeping worth a damn and I’m busy with a bunch of stuff that in a week simply won’t matter and all of this is keeping me from doing what I really want to be doing. I want to get back into the pro bono projects I’m working on and dropped when the whole seizure/pneumonia thing happened. I want to be manifesting getting a job so I can stop stressing about our finances. I want to be getting excited about summer and everything that goes with it. I want to be drinking cocktails with my girlfriends!!
Granted a lot of this I am the only one keeping myself from achieving progress. I’m whiny and unbalanced and flailing. And that’s a choice I suppose. A choice made either consciously or subconsciously as a response to everything with The Girl and life in general right now.
And it’s a strange place to be because even though I’m all scattered and willy nilly, I haven’t really lost any of the confidence I’ve cultivated over the last year. I haven’t really lost much of the direction or conviction. I haven’t really lost much of the progress I’ve made. I’m just confidently scattered I suppose. And it’s a goofy place to be.
But here I am. So I’m trying to continue to just be with everyday and take it as it comes. Keep my head up, my shoulders back and my eyes on the prize. Keep breathing and keep on keeping on so to speak. I mean I’m bound to figure out which way is up sooner or later right?
3/10/09
Mama!
Mama, I want cereal!
Mama, my not feel good!
Mama, my not want Pippin to touch me!
My not want Dada, only Mama can give me medicine!
Mama, my nose is running!
In my mind I am sitting in the middle of the room, legs and arms crossed, 2 year old pout smeared across my adult features. Chin slightly elevated in protest. I am refusing to run around like a chicken with its head cut off in an effort to meet the never-ending demands of my flu-ridden almost 3 year-old daughter.
My want goldfishies!
My want waffles!
Mama, you carry me upstairs!
My need to go potty!
Mama, my want juice!
In my mind, I am in a comfy chair, the ear buds attached to my iPod firmly set in my ears with the volume so loud I can’t hear anything else. A martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other. My senses sufficiently numbed to the grating whine emanating from my normally loud but purposeful children.
Mama, my ear hurts!
Mama, my head hurts!
Mama, my am cold!
Mama, my want blanket!
My want to get dressed now!
In my mind I am whining just as loudly as they are. In my mind I am tired and laying flat on my stomach, my limbs flailing out of control, my voice taken to a pitch not usually allowed for adults. In my mind I am single and childless, sitting in the morning sun with a cup of coffee and a book. In my mind I am sitting in a board room conducting an important meeting where important people are listening to important me. In my mind I am lunching at a bistro in Paris.
Mama, my need your help!
Mama, my am hungry!
Mama, you blow my nose now!
My want an orange!
My not want those shoes!
But in reality, I am sitting on the couch next to The Girl. With her giving her best attempt to actually crawl into my skin she’s so close. I am doing my best to help her feel better. I am biting my tongue. I am giving her hugs and kisses. I am being a mama.
Mama, my not feel good!
Mama, my not want Pippin to touch me!
My not want Dada, only Mama can give me medicine!
Mama, my nose is running!
In my mind I am sitting in the middle of the room, legs and arms crossed, 2 year old pout smeared across my adult features. Chin slightly elevated in protest. I am refusing to run around like a chicken with its head cut off in an effort to meet the never-ending demands of my flu-ridden almost 3 year-old daughter.
My want goldfishies!
My want waffles!
Mama, you carry me upstairs!
My need to go potty!
Mama, my want juice!
In my mind, I am in a comfy chair, the ear buds attached to my iPod firmly set in my ears with the volume so loud I can’t hear anything else. A martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other. My senses sufficiently numbed to the grating whine emanating from my normally loud but purposeful children.
Mama, my ear hurts!
Mama, my head hurts!
Mama, my am cold!
Mama, my want blanket!
My want to get dressed now!
In my mind I am whining just as loudly as they are. In my mind I am tired and laying flat on my stomach, my limbs flailing out of control, my voice taken to a pitch not usually allowed for adults. In my mind I am single and childless, sitting in the morning sun with a cup of coffee and a book. In my mind I am sitting in a board room conducting an important meeting where important people are listening to important me. In my mind I am lunching at a bistro in Paris.
Mama, my need your help!
Mama, my am hungry!
Mama, you blow my nose now!
My want an orange!
My not want those shoes!
But in reality, I am sitting on the couch next to The Girl. With her giving her best attempt to actually crawl into my skin she’s so close. I am doing my best to help her feel better. I am biting my tongue. I am giving her hugs and kisses. I am being a mama.