My Mother’s Daughter

My BFF Binkis and I often joke about how we rarely feel like adults and that at any moment someone is going to find out and call us out for being frauds. Most days, I am Forrest Gumping my way through life. I’ve picked up a couple tricks here and there, but left to my own devices, I’d eat potato chips for dinner, tell all drivers to fuck off, and never dust anything despite having horrid allergies.

And for some reason, the Universe saw fit for me to be a parent. Well, today, I lost my shit on my very strong-willed, defiant Threenager. My voice actually went down about three octaves as I asked him for the 900th time to please pick up his toys from the floor. This is not something outside his capabilities – he generally loves to clean up. I practiced all my respectful parenting techniques – “I can see you are having a hard time picking up, so let me help you.” – and you know what The Juggernaut did? He sat down and said, “I’m not going to clean up. You are.” and I. Lost. It. I’m blessed enough to have a child who thinks it’s hilarious when I lose my temper, but I don’t want to be that mom.

I don’t want to be my mom.

She did not have it easy. My mom was struggling to keep one very troubled kid alive and to keep another on track. And she was doing it totally solo, so I do not begrudge her that at all. But holy shit -when she lost her temper, it was terrifying. She’s not even five feet tall, but her ability to rage made her appear to be about 6’6″, 900 pounds. And I never felt safe. I never felt comfortable.  I don’t want that for The Juggernaut.

So I swallowed my pride and attempted to adult. I did it poorly, but he knows how much I love him and will do better tomorrow. He said he would listen more and hit less.

That’s a great start.


The Chronic

As stated in previous posts, I’m sick. I don’t have anything that’s going to actually kill me (at least, I hope not), but I do have two autoimmune diseases that will continue to make my life pretty damn miserable. I have to sleep a lot, follow a very specific diet, and try to avoid stress. Hilarious, the stress part.

The Juggernaut was singing along to the Sesame Street theme song today and sang “Stressame Street” instead. That’s where I live – on Stressame Street.

So I meditate. Well, attempt to. And do yoga. Well, attempt to. I take supplements for energy and supplements to calm down and supplements to supplement what I’m missing and what I want to scream is that I am missing MY LIFE. I need to sleep about 14 hours each day to function somewhat properly. I see doctors and get blood tests and they tell me my numbers are “within normal” and then sort of ignore me and hope that I will go away. The sad thing is I am so tired from fighting this that I do just go away. It doesn’t feel worth it. I start making compromises and telling myself “It’s not that bad”. And I don’t look sick. Maybe if I were bald and hooked up to an IV would have an easier time admitting to myself that I have a chronic illness. Maybe then I wouldn’t cry because the thought of having to go to the grocery store makes me realize I’ll need to nap for three hours after.

To quote the kids, “FML.”.


Now What?

After years of being told to start blogging, I finally caved. Why now? What changed? 

Thus far in my life, I have failed at most of the things I have done.

Something shifted on a cellular level when I got fired this week. I have not been doing what I’m supposed to be doing for some time now. There was always a reason to put it off. I’m starting a business. I’m pregnant. It’s a day that ends in “Y”. You know – the usual excuses. 

So now I’m attempting to go balls to the wall while dealing with a couple things. I have a toddler. I’m training a puppy. I’m training a husband. I have an autoimmune disease that is slowly killing me. Then there are the crippling anxiety attacks and the fact that I can no longer eat sugar or gluten due to the aforementioned autoimmune disease. Bloody hell. I sound like a Lifetime Movie. 

I am pledging to write every day for 365 days in front of God and my three followers. I’ll try to post most everything – it may only be a grocery list, you can read it here.

I mean, WTF, right?


I Get Fired. A Lot.

So everyone has something they are good at. I happen to be a semi-decent writer, I’m fairly organized, and I’m nice to my co-workers. I’m also a pathological procrastinator. Like to the point that it’s embarrassing for everyone, but mostly me. I must have been a a hunted fox in my past life.

I got fired today. That happens to me a lot. I always try to give a dime for their nickel, but I’m really bad at working for other people. This can be an issue seeing that money is important. I digress. I’ve gotten good at getting fired.

I’ve been sick for a while. “Mommy’s resting.” is a very common phrase in our house. I have not one, but TWO autoimmune diseases and they are kicking my ass right now. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and even intellectually. I’m also pretty sure this directly contributed to the aforementioned firing. I don’t look sick, so a lot of people think it’s all in my head, including one of my doctors, but that’s a post for another time.

Something’s got to give. I just haven’t figure out that it is yet.

Source: I Get Fired. A Lot.