Damn you, medication!!

5 Apr

I have been MIA, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m going to be honest–I’m on a new medication. Apparently, along with ADHD and anxiety, I also have some depression issues. About a month ago, I started a new medication that has off label uses of treating depression and ADHD–2 birds, 1 stone, right? Not exactly, I still take a separate ADHD medication and a separate depression/anxiety medication, but this is in addition to those. Now, suddenly, I’m an almost normal, functioning adult! I get shit done! I have time management skills that I have never in my life had before now! Seriously! I mean, I’m not all clean-crazy or anything, but when I see dishes, I wash them. Our bathtub has been filled with buckets and painting supplies for, like, ever. I cleaned it out yesterday!

Just to give you an example: Two days ago, I did the dishes, cleaned off and wiped down the counter tops, wiped down the appliances, cooked lunch, ate lunch with the kids, cleaned up after lunch, hand washed the lunch dishes, and swept the floor..all in about 45 minutes. I know that may not be a huge deal to most, but it is absolutely unheard of in my world. Amazing.

I have also started crocheting. A lot. My fingers even hurt. I have started about 3058 projects and even finished a few. I am yarn crazy. It is official. Be warned, if you get a gift from me, it might be crocheted.. or packaged in a crocheted package. EVERYTHING WILL BE CROCHETED!

I’m going to try to post more again, but for now.. I think I hear little hands digging in my utensil drawer! Later!

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If Money Could Buy Love..

8 Mar

He’d have just bought himself at least another 10 years or so..

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Hubby bought me this emerald 3 years ago while deployed in Afghanistan.  I’ve been telling him since the day he brought it home that I would like it set for a gift on the next big holiday (Anniversary, Christmas, Birthday..). I finally got it today. I initially just wanted a simple setting, but there is nothing simple about it! It is replacing my old wedding rings since they were damaged a few months ago. I am almost as in love with it, as I am with Hubby. 😉

I bitch about him, but I love that man!

Bottle of Wine: $19.99, Cheesecake: $8.49, Fifteen Minutes of Silence: PRICELESS

8 Mar

I love my family. I really, really do. Those 3 people are my heart, my life…they are my world. I really do LOVE being a stay at home mom and once both kids are in school, I will probably spend my days wishing I had these days back. I rant about them a lot, but I truly do enjoy my family.

Now, with that said, can everyone just calm the eff down for a minute? Please? Dayum!

Here is a little PSA:

Moms get over-stimulated, too!

All day long, the kids are yelling:

Mommy! Mommy! Mom..momma..moooommmmmmaaaaa! I’m hungry! I’m thirsty! Wipe me! I want chocolate milk! No, regular milk! I wanted JUUUIIICCCEEE! I said I needed to be wiped! Can I go outside? Can I come inside? Can I go pee? Can I sit down? Can I stand up? Can I spin in a circle? Can I breath air? Hey, mommy! Watch what I can do! OWWWWW! I did that thing you told me not to do and I hurt myself on the coffee table! WHY DID YOU PUT THE COFFEE TABLE THERE?! Little girls can jump off the couch and get HURT when you put coffee tables in the living room! FEEEEED MEEEEE!

Meanwhile, in the background, the tv is screaming:

Spongebob Squarepants, spongebob squarepants, spongebob squarepants, sponnnngebobbb squarepannnnnnts…

…and all I can do is lock myself in the bathroom for 2 minutes, sit in the empty tub, and rock back and forth while hugging my knees and loudly singing Livin’ On A Prayer. I pray that Hubby will hurry home to help out, but the second he walks through the door:

(((CHILDREN)), Hubby, [Television]

(((DADDDDDDDYYYYY!!!))) Hey! What have you been doing all day? (((I’m SOOO hungry!))) Where are my jeans? Can we eat? Did you lay anything out? [Spongebob Squarepants, Spongebob Squarepants..] (((*Samurai loudly sings made up song*))) Have you seen my shoes? Hey, will you come help me for a minute? Babe? Baby? (((Can I have a popsicle??))) Why do you look so stressed? I know, I’ll turn the TV up really loud– as though I have a legitimate hearing problem! That will make you feel better! (((Mom! Come in the bathroom..I pottied and it looks funny..))) About dinner..Why are your eyes burning holes into my skull? Oh, you want the TV louder? [It’s the best day EVVVEEERRRR..] (((She’s looking at ME!)))


My smidgen of remaining sanity… my livelihood… my ability to love–each relies heavily on two things:

My kids’ bedtime and Hubby’s nightly shower

Those 15-20 minutes are so refreshing. That’s all it takes to be reminded of all the reasons I’ve never actually run away. During that sacred time, I get to drink wine, I get to stuff my face with whatever junk I can find without anyone seeing the animal I really am, and I get to do it—in total frickin’ silence.


PRICELESS.

Bless His Heart

6 Mar

If you are from the south, you know that “Bless your/his/her heart” is usually just a way for Southerners to say something negative about someone without feeling guilty. It’s like saying “no offense” when you say something offensive or a way of saying that you pity someone. For example:

“She is so naive, bless her heart.”

“She’s a homely looking child, bless her heart.”

“He’s a dumbshit, bless his heart.”

In this case, regarding my husband, it means, “It’s your birthday. I pity you because, if you don’t stop being a douchebag, it might be your LAST birthday.”

Because of the fact that I have no means of transportation right now, my plans to go get a cake and a sweet card–went out the window. Instead, I decided to deep clean the worst room in our house: The Bedroom. Listen, y’all, that room seriously gets neglected–I admit it. Whenever we are in the other rooms cleaning, one of us asks, “Hey, where does this go?”, and the other almost always responds, “Hell, I don’t know. Throw it in the bedroom and shut the door!!” It’s the catch-all. We also have a serious problem with coming home from vacation and, rather than unpacking, living out of our suitcase until..well..until we go on vacation again. Don’t judge me!

Anyway, so, I decide to deep clean it. Hubby is always bitching about not being able to find anything and we are always kicking suitcases in the middle of the night, so I thought it would be nice. I worked my ass off. I actually broke a sweat. I know, gross, right? Luckily, I found my super strong muscle relaxers while I was digging through things. I needed those after tackling that mess. My back was, no, is throbbing and I am exhausted. I phone Hubby to see if he wants me to order some Outback Steakhouse to-go. It’s one of his favorites, so I figured it was a win-win for all of us. He says that, no, he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t feel like having to stop to pick it up on the way home on his birthday. I explain that I am about dead and, since he needs help with his resume tonight, it would benefit us all. In comes the bitching…”Well, I don’t feel like stopping. I guess I will just come home and cook by myself on MY BIRTHDAY!” I’m all, “Dude, STFU. I didn’t ask you to come home and cook.” He bitches some more about me “whining” about my back aching (I’ve mentioned my bulging discs and arthritis, right?). I didn’t tell him about the bedroom initially– because I wanted to surprise him. However, at this point..I wanted to go sling shit around everywhere, completely destroying it, then yell, “Surprise, mutha fucka! Happy Birthday!” when he walked in, but decided against it.

Hubby gets home and starts moping around. I run out the door to get cake and come back as quickly as possible. When I return, the kids are telling me about how Daddy said he doesn’t even want cake. The fuck? The kids were so excited about getting him a cake and seeing him be excited. Jerk. Since his mood hadn’t improved and the bedroom door was still shut, I assumed he hadn’t been in there. I walk in the bedroom to put my purse down (I used his car key, by the way..because mine is still missing) and he walks in behind me. Finally! Maybe he will see what I have been doing all day, realize that I wasn’t bullshitting about being exhausted and in pain, and cheer up. He walks through the bedroom and goes into the bathroom without saying a word. I just sat there until he came out, thinking he would be all, “Wow!” on his way out. Nope. Not a single word. He just walked out. Just WALKED OUT.

The rest of the evening didn’t go any better. He continued to mope and wouldn’t eat dinner with us. I had to force him to come sit and let us sing Happy Birthday to him. My eyes had daggers shooting out of them at him. I wanted to yell, “Ever heard the song It’s My Party And I Can Be A Big Bitchy Baby If I Want To?! No? ME EITHER!”

Bless his heart, he might not make it through the night.

Remind Me To Never Put Things Where I Can Easily Find Them

6 Mar

It happens Every. Single. Time. And, please, tell me it happens to you too… I came home, put my purse down, and walked around for a bit while holding onto my keys. Realizing that my keys were still in my hand, I decided I should put them up before I accidentally lost them. My purse was too far away for me to bother walking, so I just stuck them in the first easy-to-remember-but-out-of-children’s-reach place I saw. Bad idea.

I woke up early this morning for my appointment. I was proud of myself–I was going to be able to get myself and the kids ready, then have time to kill before having to leave to get there 10 minutes early. I get ready, feed the kids, then head to grab something from my car…it’s locked. I walk into my bedroom, open my drawer–where I’m certain I left the keys, but the keys aren’t there. That’s right, I put them on top of the fridge. Hmm, not there either. Oh! My bedside organizer thing! Duh! Nope. On the shelf in the living room, by the door? Nah-uh.

WRONG! THEY AREN'T THERE!!!!

On top of the microwave?

On the coffee table?

In the bathroom, where I’ll see them while getting ready?

In my make-up bag?

In the laundry room?

Under my bed?!

Down under the couch cushions?!

In the box my new camera came in?!?!

Dear God, WHERE ARE THEY?!

My car is push-to-start and, I swear, I even carried the trash bag out to my car and held it up to the door while pressing the button and praying the door unlocked (I was not about to dig through the trash without being sure they were in there..). An hour of searching, and I still have no clue where they are. I finally called and rescheduled my appointment. It’s also Hubby’s birthday and I was supposed to go get his cake before he gets home from work. Now, he will likely come home to a completely destroyed house and find me stuck upside down in the big trash can…desperately searching for the keys. /WIFEFAIL

It’s just like when I hide things from the kids. I hide the thing I do not want them to find and–go figure—I’ve hidden it from myself, too. Why does this happen?

Why, God, WHY?!

It’s not just me, right? …..RIGHT?!?

When The Broom Sweeps The Floor By Itself, I’ll Actually Be Impressed

4 Mar

Spo0o0o0oky...Right?? (ignore the towel in the floor..the little shits spilled water)

So, the latest Facebook craze is Magical Broom Standing. For the last 2 nights, I have seen countless posts about how this phenomenon will “only work TONIGHT!!!1!!1!eleventy!”–because of something regarding the perfect alignment of the planets. After last night’s craze, I got up this morning and I took the above picture of my broom standing and posted it in hopes of debunking the myth. Unfortunately, my newsfeed is still full of broom pictures from people who only heard of it today, encouraging everyone else to try it–again–because it will only work tonight. /facepalm

I admit it, this is pretty cool and a great way to freak people out. My husband thought I had some Juju magic going on when I casually let go of the broom, leaving it standing on its own, while we were chatting. It was funny, but not magic. I’m going to let you all in on a little secret: What Hubby didn’t know was that, while I was holding the broom, I was also carefully…

BALANCING IT!

That’s right, y’all. It’s a freaking balancing act! The thing is, the bristles are flexible enough to spread to distribute the weight evenly, yet firm enough to support the weight..allowing it to balance and stand up all by itself. Okay, okay.. that explanation is totally just my own theory, but it definitely isn’t planet alignment.

*****UPDATE*****
Well, y’all, it is morning of March 4th (originally posted this last night) and I have some shocking news…

MY BROOM CAN STILL STAND ON ITS OWN!!!1!1!!!

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My eggs stand, too!

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Go ahead, try it. You know you want to…

Leave me a comment and let me know if it works for you..

The Anxious 5 Year Old: Boo-Boos You Can’t Kiss

29 Feb

Forewarning: This post isn’t humorous in the slightest. I am hurt, sad, pissed off, yet–hopeful.

Some of you have messaged me on twitter or commented on here to check on Sugar and her anxiety, so I thought I’d give a quick update. She was diagnosed with anxiety, with possible OCD–but her psychiatrist doesn’t want to pin that on her yet. She started taking Zoloft a few weeks ago, but had a bad reaction to it (bouncing off the walls, hardly sleeping, destroying everything she came in contact with, and laughing in our faces if we tried to talk to her about it or give her consequences–oy!). Monday, she went back to the psychiatrist and was prescribed Prozac. I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with it yet. Still researching, but may go ahead and give it a shot. Yesterday, she started therapy. She did really well. She talked to the therapist alone for a while and expressed sadness that her friend moved away, excitement about moving back to our home state, and said she loved BBQ chicken! ha! The therapist suggested using 1-2-3 Magic with her, so I ordered that last night. Disciplining her has been a challenge.. one I have not been capable of conquering (see Winning At Discipline!). I am at a loss, especially considering I am battling a bad case of anxiety, as well. I am on edge, worn out, worried, sad for my little girl, and just a mess most days, to be honest.

Yesterday, on the way home from the therapist, Sugar says, “Mommy, I have been praying to the Lord every night that my fears will go away, but they aren’t. Why isn’t the Lord listening?” I said, “He is. Just keep praying.” She wasn’t satisfied. “But I been praying a million and a million and a million of times and He isn’t making them go away. Why not? Can He not hear me?” I don’t even remember my response…I was just trying to reassure her while trying not to cry and thinking, “So have I..”. Honestly, I got angry. I was pissed. Why isn’t He listening? Are we not praying hard enough? Are we not worthy enough to have our prayers heard? Do we not attend church often enough? Is it because I swear too much or drink? Surely, God wouldn’t punish my child for my behaviors, but I don’t get it. I still have faith and I know I shouldn’t question God, but things just keep happening that I don’t understand. I’ve put every ounce of faith I have into praying that she will get better, and nothing is happening. I have believed whole-heartedly that she would be healed by His hands, and nothing is happening. So,again, why isn’t He listening?? She is 5 years old, for crying out loud. She doesn’t doesn’t deserve this. She deserves to be a carefree, innocent child. This is where those “Everything Happens For A Reason” bullshit responses come in. Give me a fucking break..no, actually, give me one good “reason” she should suffer. I’m going to keep praying, but please, don’t tell me that it’s happening for a reason..unless you can give me a good one.

My little Sugarbear is a beautiful, kind, gentle, and loving little girl who worries about EVERYTHING. She also does things she knows she shouldn’t do because, according to her, if she doesn’t, “her neck will hurt”. She tells me that her brain is crazy and she just needs to go to the hospital to get a new one. She cries about her brain. When she does things she isn’t supposed to, it’s obvious that she feels guilty. She cries that she doesn’t understand why she does things and that she doesn’t mean to, she just feels like she HAS to. Her brain tells her she has to do those things, her brain “is stupid”, “is broken”, “is crazy”…and nothing I say can assure her that her brain is just perfect.

I’m struggling with the fact that this isn’t a boo-boo I can kiss, put a band-aid on, give her a big hug, and make it all better. I struggle with the fact that, sometimes, I just get so frustrated that I freak out. That makes me feel tremendously guilty. When your daughter sneaks a tea bag out of the pantry, goes to “potty”, tears the bag open, pours the grounds into a hairspray lid, mixes them with water, then splashes it all over your sand-textured bathroom walls.. well, it is really hard to not freak out! Do you know how hard it is to clean ANYTHING off of sand-textured bathroom walls? I tell you what, that is one painting mistake I will not be making again! Anyway, back to the guilt.. yes, it is hard not to freak out, but the guilt remains. Even her psychiatrist has said that it’s all a part of her “problem” and something we will struggle with until she is medicated.

I don’t want to medicate my baby. I don’t. I flat out asked the psychiatrist if the meds could affect her producing those chemicals (the ones they help regulate) on her own later in life. His answer? “Possibly. We don’t REALLY know, yet. There are a lot of theories on how these medicines even work, so it would be hard to determine how they will affect the brain long-term.” Awesome. Fucking Awesome.

Prior to being prescribed the new medication, we had started gradually cutting casein and gluten out of our diets. Since we haven’t gone cold turkey, I can’t tell if they are really working yet. She has always reacted badly to red dyes in food, so maybe this will help. If only it were easier. The more I try to cut out, the more we crave it. The kids have been begging for mac & cheese for a while now. Hopefully, that will taper off soon and they will get used to the new eating habits. Hopefully, I will too.

I know I am all over the place, but that’s where my emotions are.. all over the place today.

Sorry for being a Debbie-Downer. I have bad days, too.

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