Changing Things Up

Sometimes things need to change. Not a matter of if, but of when. And sometimes those changes come at a price. Sadly, this is when you find out who really loves and supports you, and you find out who could care less.

Turns out I have a pretty awesome group of people that love me and support me.

I'm pretty dang lucky.

I'll post more details when I'm ready, but know that although so much has changed, there is still so much the same. Day to day stuff is the same. Kids are the same. Everything is basically the same. I'm still the same. But a few things are different, and it was time.

Bigger Isn't Always Better

Yesterday I had to have my eyes dilated. Maggie giggles every time she hears the word "dilated". She's obsessed with babies and labor and delivery. It's creepy, but she knows a lot about it, so I guess that's good. But I digress.

I had to get my eyes dilated. First time ever. Not fun. I had no idea how crazy weird it is to have your eyes messed with. But it was pretty necessary, so I'll tell you my story.

I woke up, just like any regular day, but when I stood up, I noticed flashing silvery lights creating a halo effect in the very middle of my vision out of my left eye. Kind of like when you stand up too fast, and the blood rushes out of your head? It was like that. But it didn't go away. In fact, after a shower and doing my hair, it was getting worse. I had completely lost my peripheral vision on my left side, and the silvery halo was still there. It was giving me a headache.

We called Moran Eye Center, just to see what they said about it, and the nurse said that is a sign of a retinal tear or detachment, and that it warranted immediate care. I was totally freaking out at this point. So we headed up to the U, and got in to see the eye doctor. After a battery of tests, all of which freak me out because I have serious eyeball gross-out issues, it was confirmed that I did not have a retinal tear or detachment. Thank goodness.

So I had a little chat with the Neuro Ophthalmologist, and we concluded it was most likely what they call an ophthalmic migraine.

Basically, it's like when some people get migraines, they get the weird auras and light sensitivity right before the pain sets in. Only with this kind of migraine, all it is is the auras. I guess it's pretty common, but I had never heard of this in my life. It lasted a good 6 hours, and then as it subsided, I was left with a groggy, heavy feeling like I had been run over by a truck. It wasn't my best moment.

But really, all in all, I would take the auras and lights over having my pupils dilated to the size of baseballs any day. Not being able to read (Facebook), and the searing blinding sunlight really turned me off. I like my regular sized pupils, thankyouverymuch, but I am grateful for the technology that allows the doctors to see things like detached retinas and whatnot.

Today I'm fine. No more auras, no flashing lights and not too much light sensitivity. But I do need to keep an eye out ( ha ha) for another attack, because apparently once you get one, you are very prone to more. Weird.

Where My B!tches At?

I have a confession to make. I'm a judger. Especially when it comes to some of the women that live in the neighborhood where my kid goes to school. I won't say where, and will say that I do know some of these women personally, and I don't think this about them. Only about the ones I don't know, and about the one I met today.

Oh, the one I met today.

From the second I walked in to that Payless, I knew she was one of these moms. Flower in her jet black with highlights hair, True Religion jeans, Uggs, and kids all dressed alike, like some sort of accessories.

We picked out our shoes and a purse, and proceeded to stand in the checkout line. There was a line 4 deep, and while we stood there, it gained a few people.

This mom has the cojones to butt in line and ask the checker, the only employee in the store, mind you, to measure her kids foot. Then the other foot. Then the rest of the kids. All 4 of them. Wha? And the checker, who is 16 years old, new in braces, and barely able to hold her head upright due to her shyness, of course gives in and starts helping this mom. I impatiently snort my disapproval several times, but the checker gives me no mind. The mom behind me agrees.

Then this mom gets the nerve to ask the employee, who has left a line of potentially PAYING customers, to go in back and check on sizes. This really gets me snorting.

When she finally returns to the register, 15 minutes later, she asks if I need anything else. I promptly tell her I've waited long enough, just ring me up so I can leave. This mom gets all huffy in my face saying how she didn't bring a stroller that day and doesn't want to set her baby on the ground to measure his feet. I told her she should have waited in line until it was her turn, then have the lady tend to her needs. We were all prepared to spend money that day, and therefore had precedence. Words ensued, she accused me of having a miserable life and not understanding how hard it is with kids, blah blah blah, I didn't really listen because I was too busy laughing in my head that this mom just cemented my opinion of most of the moms in this neighborhood.

Needless to say, I did all of this while maintaining composure (Thank you, Zoloft), and not using one curse word! I know, right? That never happens! I was quite proud of me for standing up for my opinion, not letting some skinny bitch with accessory children intimidate me, and doing it all appropriately. The woman behind me gave me a little wink as I left the store, so that just cemented my pride.

I'm still debating calling Payless and speaking to a manager about why on earth they would find it okay to leave a 16 year old shy employee alone in a store. That bothers me, especially if it was my 16 year old daughter. Anything could happen in there. I probably won't, because I've calmed down and I have other crap to do tonight, but really. Some people.

Whew. I feel much better.

I Have A Dream

You all know how I love the Duggars, right? Well, I do. They're funny and weird, and totally confident in who they are, all things I can appreciate.

The other night, well, morning, I guess, I had a dream about Jim Bob Duggar. We were spooning in his bed. He was dressed in khakis and a polo T-shirt and I was feeding him an ice cream drumstick. The pieces of chocolate kept falling onto his shirt (because eating ice cream while lying down is tough, trust me), and I would pick them up and feed them to him. At about this point in the dream I realize Michelle Duggar, bless her repetitively pregnant heart, was also in bed with us, dressed in a denim skirt and pink blouse.

I was a little jealous.

And then I woke up, and instantly realized I probably watch too much Duggar TV.

I know other peoples dreams just aren't that interesting, and this one is no exception. Not that this blog is ever that interesting, but this is probably an all time low.

But seriously? Jim Bob? Why couldn't it have been Matthew McConahey and Pink. I totally would have shared my ice cream with them.

No Kidneying Around

Oh boy, have I had it. Who knew that those two little organs just above your butt could cause so much trouble?

2 weeks ago, a couple of days before we headed to Vegas, I was overcome with horrendous pain in my right side, just along my back. I knew it was a kidney stone, I've had them before and it's a pain you're unable to forget. A day and a half later, I was feeling okay. But for most of the week following I was still having some issues, which I won't get into because it would totally be TMI.

This last Wednesday, as I sat waiting to pick up Emma from school, I felt that all too familiar twinge of pain in my back again. I got home, went straight to bed, and hoped it would feel better in a few hours. I woke up at 5 pm and knew something was not right.

My dear MIL had just passed her district testing, and was so relieved, so we had promised her a dinner out to celebrate. Not wanting to be a party pooper, I went along, probably as the worst company ever. But that night, as I was walking around moaning in pain, I gave in and told Sean to take me to the doctor.

This was a tough decision, because we don't have insurance. Yeah. I know. But it was that bad.

So we get there, and after a CT scan, which I'm sure will cost us dearly, they couldn't see a stone, but there was an obvious infection in my right kidney, probably from the stone a week before.

So I got some good pain meds, a couple of days of IV antibiotics, a catheter to help me pee (I know, TMI), and some Flomax (yes, like the old men have to take), and was sent on my merry way.

Here it is, Monday, and I am just now feeling better. Holy crap, I had no idea. No. Idea. I'm so grateful I had at least one working kidney through all of this, and I'm also thankful for pain meds. And my hubby, who is reluctant to leave my side. Ever. Even when I pee, because he's that interested in what my pee looks like. That's devotion.

So I'm all better today, thanks for asking. I had a shot of wheatgrass juice this morning, which will either kill me with the burps that come after, or wipe out what might be left of the infection. I'm hoping for the latter, for sure.

Drama-Rama

Apparently Sean doesn't quite get my humor yet. You see, yesterday, I posted that if my next husband takes me to a buffet for our wedding dinner, I'd junk punch him and storm out, blah blah blah.

Sean was mad.

I thought it was funny.

He didn't.

So we had some middle of the night drama. I shouldn't blog about personal stuff, because you know me, and you know how discreet I am when it comes to what I say about my life, but I think I really hurt his feelings.

So I apologize, honey.

I wouldn't dare junk punch a man at a buffet, that would just be rude.

Round Two, I Guess

So for those of you that follow me on Facebook, which is probably all of you, you know I had a really bad day on Saturday. I seem to be on a two month delay when it comes to reacting to my shit-storm inundated life. That makes me seem crazy to those around me. But it's completely normal to me.

Saturday was just the day. It hit, and it hit hard. I mean, I've felt it coming on for a week or so, you know, the sleepless nights, the raging mood swings, the not giving a crap about anything around me. Yeah, those are the usual suspects when it comes to heralding a mental breakdown.

So Saturday, I knew it was going to blow, so I headed off to the library, because really, is there a better place to vent anger and frustration and tears than in a silent room filled with looky-loos? I probably could have chosen a better place, but I obviously wasn't in my right mind. So I stayed until it closed. Then I had to find somewhere else to go.

I went and saw my mom. She looks the same. She hasn't changed at all. And as I sat in the cold grass sobbing at her headstone, the thought came to me that her death was the easiest part of this turn my life has taken. My ever insightful brother said last night that if someone had told him that, he would have punched them in the teeth (but he wouldn't really, he's too nice. And just gay enough that it would have come out more like a bitch slap than a punch. Love you, bro).

And then I drove. And drove. And just kept driving. Because I didn't really have anywhere I wanted to go, and I didn't really want to deal with anyone. I ended up at Barnes and Noble, again, poor choice, but I love books, what can I say? I wandered and pored over various self-help books, sex books, business start up books, and ultimately Law School admission requirement books. I figured if anyone saw me crying over a law book, they would just assume it was tears of boredom.

But then I got a text from Sean. He'd been worried about me. He asked if he could come and get me. And honestly folks, I was in no condition to be on the road. It was that bad. My mind was not right.

I was so thankful for him at that moment. He came and got me, we had some dinner, and we chatted about all the things that were swimming through my crazy head. I cried at dinner, too. But we talked, and it felt good. He didn't judge me, or try to fix me, he just let me be crazy, then he brought me home, tucked me in bed, and let me sleep it off until later the next morning. That is love, right there.

Part of my struggle has been my upcoming talk for this Sunday. I have been asked to speak on humility. I'll be honest, the wounds are still a little fresh, and it brings tears to my eyes to even think about what I'll talk about. What do people want to hear? How my mom died, I completely lost it and wanted to end it all, lost my house, and lost a job, and worked all these years only to be starting over? I don't want pity, but talk about being humbled. I'm sure it will come to me, what I'm supposed to say, but for now, I'm just hoping round two is it, and round three is nonexistent.

Because I'm Awesome Like That

I passed up "cool" a long time ago.

Remember how my wedding dress is out of style? Yeah, I'm not cool anymore, and I'm okay with it.

Today was a beautiful day, and I found myself driving, alone, in my Vangina (expired out-of-state plates, too, thankyouverymuch), and enjoying the sounds of silence. Then I heard it.

White Zombie.

Oh. My. Heck.

Does that take me back.

Suddenly I was 19, driving on a dark road in the middle of nowhere with the top down on my Miata (those were cool when I was 19, I promise), with White Zombie cranked up. Those were my cool days. I had it all. A cool car, cute shorts with tan legs, boys calling to ask me on dates. I was the bomb.

So what did I do today? I cranked up White Zombie in the Vangina, and pretended I was cool again.

Guess what I found out?

I'm not.

But still, it reminded me that once upon a time, I was cute, skinny, and thought I knew everything.

I didn't.

I'm may not be awesome like that anymore, but I'm awesome in different ways now. And I'm totally okay with that.

Learn Somethin'

Yesterday I met up with a friend and went to our old elementary school to let the kids play on the playground. It was weird being back there, everything was pretty much the same as it was when I was in 5th grade. Same gravel playground, same swings, same basketball hoops, same everything.

But I am definitely different.

I remember as a kid, swinging so high on those swings, showing off for my crush of the week, Shane, and thinking life was so easy. I knew I had it good as a kid. My parents worked hard, and we did lots of fun things as a family. I always knew I was blessed. Lucky even.

Yesterday as I shuffled through that gravely playground, I realized how different my life has turned out thus far from how I thought it would. I honestly never thought I would have 3 children. I never thought I would be a stay at home mom, and I certainly never thought I would be 30 something living with the in laws.

I always thought I would become a famous writer, live in a big city in a high rise apartment, and live alone. Really, that's what I wanted for myself. Boy, things sure are different now.

I guess life hands you lessons and you learn what you need, and then you move on to the next lesson. Apparently I'm a tough case because I need to keep relearning the same lessons. When will I learn to do what I'm supposed to do? How hard is my head that I need to keep working on the same lessons repeatedly? I guess going back to elementary school really put my life lessons in perspective. I will learn this time, I promise.

PTSD

So remember how two month ago my hubby got shit canned? Yeah, I remember that too.

I think I have some PTSD from that day. Here's why.

Yesterday I was doing my thing like I do every day, when 9:00 AM rolls around. Sean has class from 7:40 until 11:10, so I just sort of bide my time until he gets home. But 9:00 comes, and he pulls into the driveway.

My heart sinks. I start getting jittery, and sweating, and my stomach feels sick. It feels like that day he showed up at home after the lay off.

I instantly start thinking the worst; he dropped out of school, he got kicked out of school, he got in an accident, he got a job and has to drop out of school, he decided he hates us all and wants a divorce and to take the kids and all the money and run away and leave me homeless and destitute and alone.

A little dramatic? Probably.

Turns out he doesn't have the 10:00 class on Tuesdays, and I was just mistaken. I had a little breakdown after that.

Seriously, I think I have some PTSD. I'm so afraid of what else may come our way, that I'm afraid to ever think positively!

Life. It's traumatic.

Cheap, Not Easy

So, in case you haven't been keeping up with my life via this here blog, I've been on a, shall we say, frugal kick these days. Saturday's shopping trip was no exception.

Kohl's. I heart Kohl's. Not for their organization or their name brands, but for their freaking cheap clearance stuff. And seriously, I think they must put stuff on clearance after just a week or two at regular price, because it's always new stuff! I heart that, I really do. So Sean and I got gift cards to Kohl's for Christmas, and it was getting to the point where even I was sick of seeing myself in the same clothes, and that's saying a lot. I mean, we're talking about me here, me who brought one pair of shorts and two shirts when I came for 3 weeks in the summer. Okay, I had 2 pairs of shorts, and some capri's which were later ruined by the infamous butt print at the zoo. But I digress. It was time for new stuff. So we headed to Kohl's to use our gift cards. Sean scored 2 shirts for school, and one for church, I got a flyaway sweater and new jammies. Total at the checkout after gift cards? $1. Score.

Then it was off to lunch. Ah, Bajio. Now, I'm not a fan of Cafe Rio, or even Costa Vida that much, because I don't like all the schmutz they put on stuff. I like meat and cheese. Plain and simple. But Bajio has changed me. Enter the Bajio Mexican Pizza with sweet pork. Mm, mm, good! I was not thrilled that it was almost $9, but we had gift cards to Bajio, too, so we used one of those bad boys. For all 5 of us to eat, after gift cards, total at register? $2. Yeeessssss.

So shopping and lunch cost me $3. Now that is a deal. I love deals. I love lunch. I don't really love shopping, but it's a necessary evil. I may not be easy, but I'm cheap. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Homeless

Last night, while I was lying in bed listening to Sean rattle the walls with his snoring and trying my damnedest not to punch him in the face, I got to thinking. I do my best thinking while restraining myself from spouse-icide. I'm homeless. Not like, head to the shelter and get a warm meal kind of homeless, but like I have nowhere to call my own, kind of homeless.

It's hard.

Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to be here. I'm so grateful for family being close, and I love having my kids going to a great school. But I miss having my own house. My own home. My own space to come home to and just do whatever in. I miss my dog. I miss my couch. I mostly miss my DVR. Who doesn't have DVR, these days, anyway? Does this sound like a bad country song yet?

And then there's my parents house. It's different. It's gone. I knew it would be, now that dad is remarried it shouldn't stay the way it was. But it isn't "home" to me either. So basically I have nowhere to call home for now.

I'm well aware that this is temporary. There's a good chance next year at this time we'll be settled into a teeny tiny apartment in Logan, and I'll be complaining about something else. But for now, this is tough. I feel like a visitor in my own life.

I just hope I don't overstay my own welcome and end up literally homeless.

Murphy And His Law

This is the first time in our married life that we have had to go without insurance. It's tough. Every.Little.Thing scares me to death thinking it may be a catastrophe.

Well. As soon as we moved here, Gretta came down with a wicked sinus infection. I knew that's what it was. But I thought she'd be fine after a couple of days of Tylenol. I was wrong. Sean ended up taking her to our old pediatrician, paying $40 upfront and expecting to pay the difference in a bill to follow, and getting a diagnosis of bronchitis and a sinus infection. Mother of the year, right here. The antibiotics were $8. Not too bad.

Then, a week later, Maggie says at breakfast that she's not hungry. This instantly means she's sick, because I'm here to tell you, that girl loves her breakfast. She loves to eat, period. So I knew something was up. After a day of staying home from school, I thought she'd be better. That evening I got a whiff of her breath, and I knew it was strep. Strep breath. A dead giveaway. Emma has had it 10 times; I would know that smell in my sleep. So off the a clinic recommended by Heidi. $50, regardless of insurance status, and we had our diagnosis. Strep it was. More antibiotics. $4 this time.

After a weekend of good times, playing with cousins and having a sleepover, Kelli calls to inform me that said cousin of sleepover has strep. This means Emma probably has it too. So I check her out of school yesterday, take her over to the same clinic (where the PA doesn't charge me, because either I looked really poor an pathetic, or she just totally got that when one kid gets strep the other ones usually do, too) and sure enough, strep for Emma. Another $4 for antibiotics.

So now here we are, all three kids on antibiotics, all on the mend, and hopefully our CHIP will come through just as they are all better.

Murphy, I know your law, and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit.

And Here I Sit

I'm hiding out downstairs, listening to a conversation going on between Sean and his parents upstairs.

They're trying to figure out a schedule. A schedule for laundry, showers, and whatnot.

Yesterday was tricky. We have to be to church at 11, and they have to be at church at 1, sometimes earlier for meetings. That puts all 7, or 8 if Spencer is visiting like he was yesterday, of us vying for the shower during the same 1 hour window. It's not pretty. There's a lot of almost seeing people in their undies, and running half naked from the bathroom to the bedroom with a towel strategically placed and a prayer in your heart that no one is walking down the hall at said time.

It's good times.

Don't get me wrong, I love living here. I love having a place to call home during this time of upheaval. But here I sit, wondering how long I can tempt fate and not get caught naked and soaking wet by a dear, unsuspecting family member. Perhaps at that moment, I'll be evicted and banished to a homeless shelter, where I'll sit and post about other, more important, less embarrassing things.

I Didn't Really Think There Would Be A Downside

Okay, I have to brag for a moment. But first, a back story.

For those of you that know me well, you know I hate to look at myself. Ever. Like ever. Like, even to put on makeup. I went with Meg to pick up her wedding gown, and that room full of floor to ceiling mirrors was my own personal Hell. It seems like as soon as I see my reflection, I immediately focus on the flaws. You know, the jiggly belly, the double chin, the acne problem, and I could go on and on. I'm just not a babe. It's fine, I'm over it.

So nearly 4 years ago I had lap band surgery. I was a fat girl, and needed help. So I had the surgery. It wasn't cheap, but I knew it would be worth it.

Not long after the surgery, I found out I was pregnant with Gretta. So I had all the restriction from the band taken out, and I had normal eating habits until I had her. Then slowly I started getting more restriction added.

It has taken a while, but I've finally found my happy place. I can still eat a small amount of food comfortably, but I can't overeat or I puke. It's not pretty, but it works.

And since April, I have lost... Dun dun dun....

30 pounds!

I wish I had done this sooner, because I really can feel the old me emerging. It's a nice feeling.

But now for the downside.

My clothes look horrible on me. My pants sag everywhere, my G's get all tangled up around me during the night, the three bras I bought during the summer are too big, and now I have to start spending money on clothes to fix all that. This is the first time in my life that I have had to spend money to buy smaller clothes, and not the size up from my last size.

What a great feeling.

And now, I can look myself in the eye. You may even notice my profile picture is an actual picture of myself, not the Pancreatic Cancer Awareness ribbon. That's a huge step. I can even iChat with the family, and not want to cry.

So there. If you think you need help, get the lap band. It works. I'll even give you my docs name, cause he's awesome. He also does emergency appendectomies ( just as my dad) and hernia repairs (again, just ask my dad). He also has a killer house in over in old Riverton, and he is just cool.

That's Hot

Wow.

Trains, taxis, and blisters.

What a weekend.

Sugar Daddy and I headed downtown for a comedy concert. Noel and Gary watched the kids for us, so we made a weekend out of it and called it a Father's Day getaway.

Saturday we dropped the kids off, boarded the train, and headed to the city. The Palmer House Hilton was our destination.

After dropping off our bag, we did a little shopping. The girls all got new Crocs, I got new Aerosoles (that gave me a wicked set of blisters, so much for Aero's being my most favorite comfy shoe brand!), and Sugar Daddy scored some new V-neck T's for half off at Old Navy.

Then it was lunch at Pizano's, and back to the hotel for a little "nap".




Getting on the water taxi that took us to Union Station.


The Chicago Theater. Not as cool inside as the Oriental, but then again, I don't know as much about it. ;)



Saturday night we went and saw Lisa Lampanelli at the Chicago Theater. Please don't think less of me if you know her. She's dang funny, and her humor is right up my alley.

Then it was dinner at Boston Blackies, and back to the Hotel for a movie. Don't waste your money renting "Miss March", btw.

After a night of seriously restless legs, I finally dozed off around 3:30AM, and woke at 9. We ate brunch at Petterinos, my most favorite Chicago haunt. I have such great memories of my mom enjoying every bite of her flourless chocolate cake while we searched the walls high and low for that second caricature of John Cusack. This time I had a crab and asparagus omelet, and Sugar Daddy had an extra sharp cheddar cheese and bacon omelet. Muy delicioso!

We boarded the train at 2:30, and headed home. On the way, we were seated behind a great couple with 2 adorable little girls. We started chatting, and found out they had just moved here from Buffalo last week. They don't have any family here, and were still getting to know the lay of the land. Of course I took it upon myself to invite them to our Father's Day BBQ, and they accepted! It was so nice to get to know new friends, and especially ones that fit right in with the rest of us! I would have been so grateful for a group of people to include me, especially in those first few weeks when I didn't know a single soul!

So today we are just recouping from a crazy weekend. The kids had a blast at Noels, and didn't want to leave.

This week is supposed to be super hot and humid, with the heat index in the 100's. I guess I'll have to finally turn my AC on.

I Haz Issues

I'm not an "in charge" kind of person. I like being told what to do. I don't deal well with authority figures, and I second guess myself a lot when it comes to reporting to people above me.

Surprising, I know.

I think it stems from my inability to be serious about anything. Ever. Authority figures seem to take my sarcastic tone in a bad way. Why on earth would they do that?

I digress.

I was put in charge of a decision making process that no one else seemed to want to take charge of. Should I be flattered by that? No, I'm not. So I took charge. I did the best I could. At least with what information I had been, or hadn't been given, as the case may be.

I have since found out that my decision wasn't the best one, or at least not the way others had imagined it should be. Although even though they had all the information, they didn't or wouldn't take it upon themselves to make the decision.

Does this make any sense at all? Clear as mud, right? Right-O then.

I wish I could just come right out and say what I mean, but for once I'm not an open book. I just get so frustrated.

People, if you want help from others, be specific! Don't assume they can read your mind. It is just too frustrating for all parties involved.

End of issues. For now.

No One Always Or Never Does Anything

Last night was a big deal around here.

In our married life we've often done things we swore we'd never do. Owned a minivan, dressed our kids in cartoon character clothes, gone to bed angry, and other things along those same lines.

We also said we would never, ever take our kids back to Chuck-E-Cheese. We took Emma once when she was like 2, and it was a miserable experience.

But last night we wanted to do something special for Maggie, to celebrate her graduating from Speech. She sees the CEC commercials, and begs us to take her. We always refuse. So Sugar Daddy gets this idea that we surprise her with a trip to CEC to celebrate.

We did it.

We went to Chuck-E-Cheese with all 3 kids.

It wasn't as bad as I remembered. We arrived just before 5, and it was practically empty. By the time we left at 7, it was getting packed, and more and more obnoxious. I think the timing was perfect, because I couldn't have lasted much longer in the chaos.

We came home with 3 toys purchased with our 400 tickets, and 3 very happy exhausted kids.

But I swear, I'll never do that again.

Roses On Your Piano

Did I give birth recently?

I don't recall.

But I must have, because Sugar Daddy came home with these beauties.


Only the second time in our entire marriage that I have gotten flowers without needing a C-Section first.

The other time was when we were fighting pretty good.

This time, no reason.

I'm suspicious.


*also, see here for the latest article.

Motivation

I've had a good couple of days. Actually, it's been about a week and things are still good. But I can feel a change. I can feel the mood sinking. I'm fighting it with everything I've got. I think it will pass, so I have to stay motivated and just work through it.

I think a lot of my mood change is coming from comparisons. I've started comparing my life with the way I perceive the lives of the women around me. I've begun to feel very inadequate. Suddenly I'm doubting my parenting skills, my craftiness, my humor, my home, my car, my clothes, my appearance in general, and whatever else I can find to compare. And I keep coming out on the losing end of it.

Comparisons by nature are not a bad thing. But when it comes to comparing one's self with what is perceived to be another person's self, there is no winning. We always put our best face forward, and hope to win out on the comparisons.

Normally I don't really care about what other people think about me. I really don't. I got past that insecurity long ago, and about 30 pounds ago. I also use my humor to mask any insecurities I may feel. It might not be the healthiest option, but I'm not really known for my healthy choices, now am I? The last few days have really brought out some underlying fears I have of being left behind. I have started feeling like I'm not keeping up with those around me. I don't mean materially, I'm getting over that, I mean humanly. I don't do a lot of what the people around me are doing. I don't see what I'm doing as wrong, or what they're doing as wrong, but I feel out of sync.

I think what I need is a good old fashioned dose of "keep it up, girl". I feel like my family is doing well, my kids are happy and well adjusted, and we have a good schedule going. I try to keep it as low stress at home as possible, and the kids respond well to that.

Then I see some people that give their kids the newest toys, go to the newest restaurants, see the newest movies, and I start to feel lacking. I start to feel that I have to do those things in order to make my family and myself happy.

I know in my heart of hearts that we're happy just as we are. But still the motivation to keep it up is deeply buried, and it's hard to see through the mumbo jumbo of every day life. I think I just need to see my kids thrive in a simple environment, and then I'll feel better. I'll give it a day, and hopefully that will help me feel motivated to keep it up.