Tag Archives: home

The summer of her discontent, or not…

As I sat down tonight to blog (oddly, not about what you’re about to read, so you’re welcome for the topic switch!), I forgot my password, as I do every single time I sit down to my computer for one reason or another. I am completely the reason I cannot have nice things, and it is part of my charm. Sitting at the keyboard, I racked my brain trying to remember what email address I even use for this thing, when I heard footsteps coming down the hall in my direction. Since I am the only one home right now who was not in her assigned bed, I knew it was one of my kiddos. And, to be honest, I wasn’t surprised.

“Hey, you. Go to bed,” I sighed – not looking over my shoulder because everyone knows if you make eye contact with the bed-wanderer, you have to have a conversation with that person that usually ends up with no fewer than 4 sips of water and a 2 snuggle minimum – wondering if I would ever figure out how to get back into this thing.

“Uhm, okay, nevermind…” Aaah, yes. My oldest. I knew it. Forgetting all about passwords and email addresses, I stood and moved to the couch and invited her to sit down with me. Tears threatened to spring forth from her eyes.

“What’s wrong, Lovey?”

Sniffling, the tears came. “I’m so sad summer has to end. We had so much fun…”

Tomorrow is the first day of school for our district, and trust me when I say that my children are very much ready for school to be in session and the routine and craziness that ensues from that. It’s obvious in their behavior and their actions that they need routine like fish need water, and the school year provides routine that summer does not, especially with me also not working a traditional full time schedule. So, they’re all ready. Go to school, kids. It’s time.

What shocked me was the fact that she said she had so much fun this summer. This summer was, thankfully in many ways, one of the most low-key, chill summers we’ve had. For the first time since 2015, I didn’t require any surgeries this year (yet!! lord knows there is time). So, I suppose that’s been a big bonus around here. But, fun? We didn’t do much! We put vacation on hold because we’re surprising them with a big trip in the spring, but we told them that we put it on hold while waiting for their dad’s work schedule to change. This, of course, is not a lie, but it was all they knew as to why vacation had to wait. We didn’t get to Kalahari like we had planned (but we will!) because I worked a ton this summer in my day job, and I ended up doing a lot of writing projects as well. As I rolled through the things we wanted to do and didn’t do in my head when she said, “fun,” I lost sight of what the summer did consist of…

We went to the drive in a couple times to see kids’ movies that they loved. We stayed up too late and caught fireflies. We wanted to get “real TV” and subscribed to DirectTV, so the girls were able to rekindle their love of mindlessly watching television without typing anything into Netflix. We watched a lot of Cartoon Network and got reacquainted with our friends in Teen Titans Go!, along with other shows we’d lost touch with (and I have rekindled my love affair with HGTV). We did a few small road trips but not even all the ones we wanted to! We had a pool up for a while, and then one of the littles replaced the plug with a water bottle cap – which is not effective at plugging a pool – so that wasn’t long lived. But, we also got a splash blob, which is my favorite thing ever. We grew a garden, and they learned about how plants go from seed to table, and they even got to help us harvest things (and still do, since it’s still going!). We celebrated two birthdays! We created outdoor living spaces on our patio and brought the backyard to life. They played in that backyard every single day, some days ALL day, and we had lots of baths that turned the water brown with dirt and smells that only can be recreated in Ohio summers. We did lots of library days and read books and made Lego things and painted  and all of that fun creative jazz. We had a lot of ice cream for dinner, and for other things as well, and ate out more meals in three months than we usually do in a year. We spent more money on little toys and gadgets they wanted than I ever care to admit. We said “yes” a lot more than we said “no,” and I suppose, at the end of the day, that’s what makes the memories that count when you’re small.

It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows and unbridled happiness, however. We had lots of frustrating moments with raised voices and pounding countertops and slammed doors. Lots of tears over sisterly injustices and parents who “just don’t understand.” Lots of “PLEASE GOD GO TO SCHOOL SO YOU STOP KILLING EACH OTHER” and more than one occasion of one of us girls begging their dad to take us to work with him (usually me). We talked a lot about being grateful for what you have and taking care of those of us in this world who may not have as much as you do. We talked about a lot of big picture world and society issues. And, yes, lots of bedroom cleaning and chores and the things that no one ever wants to do. I tried very hard to get them to learn the importance of pulling their own weight, and how not everything is going to be fair because life is one big unfair bullshit ride a lot of the time, and what is more important is grace and being a team player and gratitude and all of that shit that you say and then you’re like “Yes, I am nailing this parenting thing cuz look at their faces looking at me, nodding and getting this…”

Those moments – the ones that involved lessons learned and some yelling and maybe some tears – are what stand out to me as a parent. The discontent is what sticks out to me, and maybe that’s because I am naturally predisposed to remember negative things and experiences and sort of file away the good for moments when the negative gets to be too much. But, as my blue-eyed, blond-haired, lookin’ more like her momma every day child sat hugging her knees, laughing as I talked to her about how good things need to come to an end and that she wouldn’t want the summer to last forever because it would lose its special magic, it hit me. Kids need time and energy and space to run and roam and to fight with each other and figure things out even when they drive their parents nuts with it all. What I saw as a summer of discontent with all of the things we “didn’t do” was a summer of fun and freedom for the kids, and it was such a fun time that the thought of it ending brought my kiddo to tears…

What the fuck happens to us as adults that just kills our joy?
proof-that-growing-up-is-definitely-a-trap-6

Now, that ^^ is just sad…
(but, I have spent enough time around both children and adults that I don’t doubt it!)

Look for the light that leads me home…

As someone with borderline commitment issues (yet also ten years into a marriage, riddle me that), I have waffled on this whole blogging thing, and for good reason. Life gets busy, and I get busy with other writing projects (that novel that’s collecting dust, the international rock and roll magazine of which I am managing editor and journalist, shitty poetry, etc). However, today I took the initiative to, once again, purchase my domain, add a new fun theme I kind of dig, and am going to try to make this a more regular place for my words. They need a place, and inside my head isn’t working for them anymore, ha!

For the time being, I have damn-near completely abandoned the idea of being a novelist for any length of time because I hate rejection, and it’s all I have been getting. I really, really hate rejection, and thanks to being bullied relentlessly as a youth and my passion for my writing, I am super sensitive to someone telling me that my writing sucks. The worst thing someone can tell me is that I suck at this. Truly. I am not strong enough to hear it. It makes me ache and fills me with doubt, and I don’t like those feelings…at all. Again, avoiding feelings. Notice a pattern?  It isn’t healthy, but it works!

I mean, I’ll still try to get these things published. Ya know? I am not sure why some days. I don’t see a real “payoff” here. And no, “SO people can read it!” isn’t the payoff I am meaning; hell, I could publish the thing here and people could read it, ya know? My long game is not strong enough to really get concerned with it, so for now, it’s whatever. It’s out there. If it gets picked up, hell yeah. Let’s go. If not? Not gonna cry in my beer over it.

I’ve considered picking up other projects along the way (a long-abandoned novella, a few shitty short stories) to keep myself moving forward in terms of writing. I know it’s a good idea to do that and keep moving forward, and I will get to these things post-haste. I have a good one on the docket I am going to revisit. However, it will never replace my passion.

My passion is in music writing. My passion is going to concerts and telling people all about them. My passion is interviewing musicians and getting to know them beyond, “That one guy in that one band.” My passion is getting a new album in my hands and telling everyone why it’s great (or not). My passion lies inside music – it always has. And being able to combine my love of writing (my first love), with my passion for music, is currently the only thing that makes sense to me at this moment. Sure, it’s super “idealistic,” but who says I have to be realistic all the time? Not I! I REJECT IDEALISM!

Yes, I have a job in the education industry. If I am being honest, as much as I love my students and what I do, it isn’t as fulfilling to me as losing myself into the moments in a concert, in the lyrics of a song, in the eyes of someone at the show who really gets it – who understands that I am there because I need to be because they’re there, also. They feel it. Nothing will ever be as fulfilling to me as that, I feel. I need it. It is why my heart beats – live music experiences are what I am made for. Writing is what I am made to do. No matter what, I will always feel this way…. always.

Music has a way of taking me somewhere, especially live, that I do not want to come back from. It is the therapy I need for when I am weary, the motivation I need when I am frazzled, the love I need when I am hurting. And, for better or worse I suppose, I get to experience it with my gig with the magazine I work for. I am currently laying the “free” in “freelance” down with it, but I have to imagine that maybe, just maybe one day, something would come along where I could get paid for it. Wouldn’t that be a trip!? … what a dream. Getting paid to do this would honestly tickle my multiple fancies all at once. Maybe one day… but, I’m not sweating it. Life happens as it ought, and I am always down for the ride. The destination is never important to me; the journey is the good shit.

For now, I will continue to lose myself in the music. Music will always remind me to

Look for the light that leads me home.

This, this is my all-time favorite band, Breaking Benjamin.
And, this video takes me places I can only revisit in memory…

No one has died, so I win….

There are days when I feel like I have this motherhood-wifehood-lifehood thing down without my husband being home. He has been gone 11 days. It’s odd I don’t have the hours figured out on this one yet. There are days when I feel superawesomebadass, and I know that I can do this. Those are the days when we all get along, and the hills are alive with the sounds of music and joy. Those are the days when I put them to bed and miss them as they sleep, even though they are only a door away. Those are the days when I just break down at how cute they are, and there is more laughter than frustration, more giggles than screams, and more happiness than anything else. And then…there are days like the last few…

I don’t believe that three people should spend as much time together without Xanax as I have spent with my kids. I mean, really. Eleven days of being the primary parent. Eleven days of being the disciplinarian. Eleven days of being the only one that they really want to be with, even when I have to have someone else keep them for a few hours so I can work. It is because we have spent a ridiculous amount of time together that I find myself wanting to be anyone but who I am sometimes. Those are the times I want to book myself a one way ticket to North Dakota just to feel my husband’s arms around me, and for him to tell me that I am doing a great job. I am strong, I know this. But the last few days have really shown me that I am not a superhuman. I can do a lot of things, but I cannot do everything. And I am realizing this more and more.

My heart aches daily when my girls say things like, “Daddy misses all the fun stuff, doesn’t he?” and, “When is Daddy coming home?” My heart aches when Ellery asks me if we can Skype him while he is sleeping, and “why not?” when I tell her no, we can’t. I don’t have all the answers they need. I do now that, yes, Daddy does miss fun stuff right now. And no, I don’t know when Daddy gets to come home. I wish I knew. I think I would feel better if I just…knew. If I had any idea when this ride would be over. If I had any clue when they would be done on this job, I wouldn’t be so stressed out. I have considered going to my OB this week and getting an Rx for some anti-anxiety meds, but I can’t afford to be a zombie mommy, as much relief as that would give me. And I don’t think my kids are acting out because of anything I can control; I know they aren’t. They miss their daddy. And so do I. But I don’t get the option of throwing fits, screaming, crying… I am 31 years old. I have to smile and pretend that my heart doesn’t ache a bit more everyday he is gone…

The other night, though, I had a moment with my four year old that I won’t forget. She would not stay in bed. No matter what I said, she would not sleep. First she pretended her ear hurt. And then she said she was thirsty. Had to pee. Whatever. Finally, after a little less than an hour of this dance, I made her sit down and tell me what was really going on. She just … lost her shit. In front of me. She cried harder than she had in days. And I realized, she just now was processing this whole thing. I had been so preoccupied trying to remain upbeat and keep some semblance of normal life, and she was struggling. She blurted out that she missed her daddy, and I couldn’t help it, I cried. With her in my arms. We cried together. She needed me to meet her there, to meet her in her grief, and to stop being so damn strong. I was allowed to be weak, and she could be weak with me. And we talked as I rocked her and stroked her hair. And we laughed through our tears, and she went to bed. And that was it. She slept peacefully. THAT night, I missed her so much while she was gone. We were able to just be real with each other there, for that short time, and grief was okay. It was in those moments I realized that this situation is not one I want them to remember. I want this all to be a distant memory in six months or so, and not our reality. I want them to remember Skyping Daddy, and laughing with Daddy, and being silly with Daddy, even though we are separated by so many miles…. I don’t want them to remember how sad it made them. Or how much they missed him. And I want them to remember that he did it because he loves them. He loves our family. And he is doing this, though it is hard on him also, because he doesn’t have an option. He doesn’t get a choice. He gets this deal… and this isn’t fun. But it isn’t forever…

I have to remember that I can’t beat myself up when I get frustrated. I am on the edge of losing my shit in any seven second period for much of the day. I can’t feel bad about myself when I am sad. I am pregnant. And I am a hormonal mess (hello, everything makes me cry anymore, and I can’t even begin to allow anyone to hug me… I may just break down on the spot). And I have to remember that everyday that I keep my kids safe, happy, healthy, and alive that is a day I win. I win those days. I win because I can smile while ready to lose my mind, I can giggle while the girls are screaming at each other, and I can hold my head high in those moments they just love all over each other. However, I am far from perfect. I yell more than I’d like to. I get frustrated more than I care to. And I want to give up more than I care to admit. But those moments when I hear, “Mommy, Ellery happy. Ellery happy Mommy is here. I love you, Mommy” that I know I am not fucking up too much. It is when Caelan just looks at me, sighs and smiles, and wraps her arms around me that I know I am doing okay. And in those brief, fleeting whispers of togetherness, I know that they know that I need to hear those words, feel those hugs, and I know they need to hear them and feel them as well. Those whispers speak so much louder than the yelling ever will… And I am thankful for those moments. I am thankful for my children. And I am, oddly, thankful for this crazy time to be able to show my girls that they can handle anything life hands them, even if it isn’t pretty and easy, even if it sucks to the core for everyone involved…and we can do anything together much better than we can do it apart.

sometimes-you-win-sometimes-you-learnI refuse to lose; I never ever lose…But, I will always and everyday learn…

Two. 1/13/13

Dearest Ellery Jean,

I seriously do not know how we got here. So fast. This past year has flown by. I partially blame myself; I feel I have missed some time with you. I have been so set in my pursuit for my professional career and all that comes with it. I feel like you and I haven’t had the serious Mommy and Me time I had with your older sister. This is for a variety of factors, including the fact that your sister was always sick. I had to learn her inside and out. I had to know her entire being like it was my own. You? No way. I trust you. Far more, I think, than anyone should trust a toddler. Especially a toddler with your grin, giggle, and that glint of ornery behind those baby blues you sport. I guess I trust you to always be you and be healthy and happy because it’s all I ever wanted after the ordeals with Caelan. I trust you to not hurt yourself, to be okay when you fall, and to be resilient because your sister, though stronger, still seems so fragile. Maybe all parents of two allow the second to kind of just be. But I don’t know. I haven’t had two before. And soon, we shall have three. But that’s not what this is about. I suppose it isn’t fair to you that I trust you as much as I do; it’s a lot of responsibility for you. Now, that is not to say I won’t cuddle you, snuggle you, or hold you while you cry. But I just always trust that you’ll bounce back. And you always do. We prayed for you; you may not understand fully, but you were an answer to a prayer I used to whisper. “Please God, just make this baby healthy. Make her eat. Make her laugh and smile and be okay. Just make her okay.”

And you are more than okay. You are brilliant. You are hilarious. You absolutely make me split my sides every single day. At least ten times. Your laughter and energy is infectious. And smart. Oh are you ever. You are smarter than your sister was at this age, which we never could have believed. You just “know” things. Your vocabulary gets bigger every single day. You repeat everything you hear, both good and bad. You like to sing Lady Gaga songs, which I am fine with. You dance and twirl, spin and swirl all the time. You have changed me, changed the way I thought I would parent, and challenged me to learn to just give in a little. You ask for more snacks, I give them to you. You want one more snuggle? You got it. I have learned to breathe with you. I can be a mom and not be worried and stressed about you. And for that, I thank you. This past year has been so fun, so adventurous, and so new with you. We went to the beach, we went on day trips, you explored and you learned. You flew in an airplane to Texas! You’ve grown and changed so much…You got to experience some amazing things, and you did all of it with your best friend, Caelan, right beside you. NO one on this planet will ever love you like she does. Not the new baby, not even Mommy and Daddy. You two have something special; please promise me you will hold onto it. You follow her around, discovering who you are through her, doing what she does, every single day. You now share a room, and that only serves to strengthen your bond. I can’t put into words how watching you two together makes me feel inside, but I can tell you it is pride and love beyond that which I have ever known.

You eat. You dance. You play. You sing. You love books. Your favorite phrase right now is, “read to me, please.” And I am never too busy to oblige. I hope you know how much you mean to me. I promise you, in the year(s) to come, I will be more present for you. I am slowing down my workload. I am pulling in my oars, and this will only serve to make me a better mom. I will be home more. I will dance more. Laugh more. Read more. You have shown me how important it is. Your personality and persistence have made me see things in a new way. It doesn’t matter who I am professionally; if I am not the best mom you deserve, than all of this means nothing. So this is my vow. To be here. For you. For Caelan. For the new baby. I will not fail you; I only get one shot at this. I can’t blow it. I won’t.

Two years old is a big deal. I hope it’s not the terrible twos, but hey if so, I know how to handle it. However, every time I think that I have it figured out, you show me how polar opposite two kids can be. You are nothing like your sister while being so much like her it’s scary. It’s hard to explain. You just are definitely your own person. You are so very much like your Daddy. This is a good thing; I chose him to be your daddy after all. I see him in you more and more. And it just makes me so happy. You are going to be potty training soon, like real potty training with Big Girl Panties. You are ready. Stubborn. But ready. In June, you will be a big sister. And this will open up whole new worlds for you. I hope you handle it as well, and with as much joy and love, as your sister has. You have a good example to follow. The best.

Two will bring new things for you. New adventures. New challenges. But two will be uniquely yours, as your whole life has been. You will make two fabulous, this I know. You will settle for nothing short of awesome and amazing. You never do. I want you to know how much your daddy and I love you. We are so proud of the little girl you are becoming. And we cannot wait for all of the fun to come with our brand new two year old. Two years ago tonight, I was anticipating your arrival. Birthing you was not the most fun ever. But, it sure was worth every single minute. And with every passing day, with every goodnight kiss and snuggle, with every smile and laugh, I remember over and over how honored I am to even know you, let alone have you call me Mommy. I love you, Ellery Jean JellyBean. And remember, I will love you forever. I will like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be. Happy Birthday *tomorrow*. I hope your Pizza Party is as much fun as it can be for you. I know it will be. Nothing but the best for our little lady.

Love Always,
Mommy

555250_10100538623152072_711100265_nThis was taken tonight at Grammy and Poppi’s house…
And is SUCH an indication of your little spunk and personality…
Happy Birthday, Princess EJ Bean

Ah, Fall…

There is something to be said about the way seasons affect people. Some people get all spring cleany, feeling the energy of the change of the seasons, and all of that stuff around spring. Not me. Well, I do I suppose. But not as much as I do around fall time. I am absolutely in love with everything fall has to offer, from boots and leggings to candy corn and pumpkin patches. I get all snuggly, cozy, motivated to clean up and rid my house and life of all garbage that has accumulated, and really feel like myself. I was made for this season. I like to forget in September that by November it will be winter weather. I am hoping this year it will not be, since this summer has been so schizophrenic.

Fall makes me happy. It makes me feel productive while being lazy. I love every single fall scent, from pumpkin to leaves and trees to cinnamon. I love all of it. And the smell in the air in fall is one that cannot be replicated. I love fall because fall means FOOTBALL!! And I can watch my favorite sport. I like to do fall things with the kids, from fall art projects to things outside of the house. I hope to do a lot of fun fall things with my little family this year. I want to go to pumpkin patches, hayrides, apple orchards, Boo at the Zoo, and all of the annoyingly cute family things that you’re supposed to do when you have kids. I want to jump in leaves and enjoy watching my girls enjoy the season. I know this time with them, like the season of fall, won’t last forever. Soon they will be too cool to hang out with their parents, or they will have school events that demand their time. I will enjoy this fall with them, and every single one they allow me to.

Fall makes me feel romantic. I feel snuggly and cozy. I want to sit around and watch movies, read books, drink cider and hot chocolate… all with my husband with me. We don’t even have to be doing the same thing, and we usually aren’t. I just like being alone with him, in the same room, enjoying his presence. I know we don’t get a lot of time to do that uninterrupted, so I try to take advantage of it as much as I can.

Today in Ohio, it feels like fall. The weather is a brisk 66 degrees, says my Swackett app. And it has been raining all morning. It is gloomy with a touch of sun, and the breeze coming in the windows feels amazing. I have a candle lit, and I cleaned the house this morning. I am having a small gathering of people here later, so that was motivation, but it also needed done. There has to be some science to the notion that having a clean house makes you feel better. Having everything in order, clearing out some of the chaos, really brings peace to my mind. Even if it isn’t 100% spotless, if I can get the clutter under control and clear off the surfaces, I’m set. I also cleaned out Caelan’s room and purged a trashbag of toys and added to the recycle bins. It is ridiculous how much stuff kids accumulate. We made a deal that for the next month, we will pick up her toys every night before bed so that cleaning becomes a habit. I am really good at letting clutter just be clutter, but I need to make a concerted effort to stop it. My girls are also learning what a home should look like, and I don’t want them to think it’s okay for it to be messy all the time. I wasn’t raised in a house where things were messy; I don’t want them to be either.

Fall. I love fall.

This looks like Heaven…

I know this is probably photoshopped, but it’s SO pretty…

Just breathtaking…

My favorite… I would LOVE this view in the morning or evening. Or hell, anytime…

What is YOUR favorite thing about the fall?? 🙂

Truckasaurus the Not-So-Brave

In general, my dog is afraid of everything. He is a five year old Golden Retriever, and is about as big as you can get for a Golden. He has always been afraid of everything. A noise near his dog bowl will send him on a starving spree for a week. A laundry basket in the living room is enough to make him not enter. He has a healthy respect for boundaries and has no idea that he is actually taller than the fence we use to keep him contained outside. One strong leg up, and he’s gone. Would he ever try it? Probably not. Squeaky toys give him fits. He really is afraid of everything.

Storms send him reeling. Hot air balloons make him nuts. And fireworks are his least favorite thing ever. Hall of Fame weekend is always FUN for him, and we hedge bets on how many he will actually live through without needing doggie Xanax. Fourth of July celebrations are another point of contention for him. He usually hides beside our bed. Or he will hide by the door that leads to our garage. He doesn’t ever just lay out in the open on the floor while it is storming. It’s like he does not know he is safe inside. Like the thunder is going to come in and get him or something. Like thunder doesn’t have better things to do.

Tonight, when we got home from fireworks, Shawn and Caelan went in to brush her teeth, as they do nightly together. And Shawn found this in the tub….

80 lbs of big, manly dog sissy pants…

You don’t think I’m coming out there, do you?

Do you think the thunder can see me!?

I’m just going to lay here next to this drain. Yep. That’s fine with me.

One would think that he was beaten at some point by a thunder stick. Or that he has had some sort of trauma. Nope. He’s just a big sissy Golden. He’s not known for his protector instinct. He doesn’t even bark. I’ve probably heard him bark, like for real bark, 5 times in his life. 5. Really.Way to go, Dog of the House.

I just pray no one tries to break in. He’d let them take whatever they wanted without even warning us.

Heaven help us if it’s storming at the same time…

There are days…

There are days that I don’t think I should have ever had children. Do not get me wrong. I love my kids. And would do anything for them. I do not REGRET having children. I would never regret my girls… I just think that there are certain times when I realize that I had no clue what I was getting myself into. Which, I suppose, is part of the thrill of it as well as the overwhelming part of it all. I try to navigate situations as best as I can, but sometimes… sometimes I think that I really have no clue what the hell I am doing and I realize I am winging it. Maybe the best part of parenting IS winging it… ?

Lately, things have not been smoothy-poothy at our house. For some God-awful reason, my girls have decided again that we will all sleep when we’re dead and we need to seize every moment, of every day. And night. Regardless of the time. Now, I don’t know about you, but getting up every hour on the hour, and sometimes more often than that with a toddler and a preschooler just is not my bag of fun. However, my girls seem to think my bag of fun needs a changing. And, for some reason, even with the multiple wake ups at night and everything, they are still up between 5:30 and 6:30 every.single.morning. I don’t get it. It doesn’t help that Shawn is on afternoons this week and doesn’t get home until midnight:30. So, as you can imagine, all four of us are tired. And cranky. And we all love/can’t stand one another. And we get on each others’ nerves. And it isn’t fun. It is not a good time. I do not know how to make my children sleep later. I keep them up later, try to mix up the routine…and it doesn’t matter. I just don’t get it…

Caelan has decided that she hates us. Well, me, mainly. She has been the most argumentative little shit lately. I know she gets it from me, and I kind of hate that about the whole damn thing. I do not have the patience for this girl sometimes. Everything is an argument. Everything is a debate. Everything needs to be up for discussion. And it doesn’t help, with the tired thing, because sometimes I yell at her. Or get stern with her. And I don’t want to do that. I hate that. I hate the way it makes me feel, but I am telling you, friends, when you are pushed to thisclose to the limit and your child is screaming at you with her hands on her hips … sometimes, you yell. And it sucks. And usually, it doesn’t do any damn good. Most of the time, it does no good. So, what does work? I don’t know. I know what used to work. It doesn’t work any more. I used to be able to redirect her. But with age, she has become more and more like a little RainMan every single day and the focus on things has become laser-like…. I cannot redirect this child anymore. I can’t suggest we do something else. Or listen to something else. She has none of it. I know she’s pushing me. And I have been able to get down to her level sometimes and really explain things to her, but even that doesn’t work all the time. I am not a spanker. I am not a screamer (well, I have the potential to be, but I don’t want to be. Like yelling, it doesn’t work). So, what works? What do you do? What can I try? I will take any suggestions. Lord knows, I need them sometimes.

Ellery hasn’t been feeling well. I thought it was teeth for a while. And then I realized it was more than that. However, I don’t know what was going on with her. She was 100% her old goofy self today, though, and I am hoping that it sticks around. Again, though, with the not feeling well for seven straight days, and the tired… it hasn’t been pretty for her either. I don’t yell at her, but I do believe I told her to Go The F%$k to Sleep the other night….

There are days, my friends. And this week and a half or so have been those days for us. What do YOU do when days like this pop up? How do you handle it? Teach me, oh wise ones…

Because Mommies don’t get days off. And at this point, cocktails don’t even help Mommy anymore…

And to think I have entertained the ridiculous idea of a third child recently…

Obviously, I need help.