These are the things that comfort me, make me laugh, move me, & open my soul. I am a mom of 3, a wife, a daughter, a friend....I write, knit, cook, love, work, & just try to make it through. My writing blog is wordsontheceiling.tumblr.com if you'd like to check it out. Thanks for hanging out in my head space!

 

onlyonemee asked
I put them in the microwave, and watch them "inflate"! Then I take them out, watch them shrink back down, and eat the chewy goodness. I also leave them out to let them get stale on purpose. Peep abuse abounds in this house.

I didn’t eat them for years, just mashed their little heads and faces through the packaging with glee. It’s a spring sport for me. Must…smash…Peeps…

Those of you

its-onlygene:

who have a family unit that you live amongst have my admiration. I honestly don’t know how the noise, the busy ness doesn’t make you crazy. So cheers to you.

We ARE crazy. At least I’m pretty sure I am. This entire blog is about poop and hormones and other ridiculous nonsense. I mean, who writes about this stuff? There is definitely a significant lack of sanity involved.

POV

Just a reminder: in most relationships, we are acting and giving in a way we would most like to be treated. Or at least we should be. Generally, that’s a good plan, as it tends to follow the Golden Rule. But sometimes it doesn’t meet our partner’s needs.

I don’t put too much stock in self-help books, but that one about love languages is pretty on target. When you discover that each of you is essentially speaking a different language, it can be shocking but helpful. Because if you don’t, your relationship will be the equivalent of you both screaming at each other in two different languages, and no one will understand a damn thing, nothing gets done, and everybody stays frustrated and feels unloved and lonely. Once you understand how your partner expresses love and how they best receive love expressed TO them, then you can start making progress.

Not meaning to get preachy. Just take it as an observation from the inside. Trying to remember that my language is not the only one, and my way is not always right. Call it the epiphany of the day, if you will.

Because my truth, on this Tuesday, is that real love is not always easy and people don’t come with instruction manuals. Sometimes it takes way too long for certain things to get through my thick skull and over-inflated pride.

Icing on the cake

…..in a stroke of poetic justice, the good Lord has decided to save my sorry ass from myself by taking away my voice.

I can seriously imagine my guardian angel’s face (if I had one), shaking its head and heaving a big sigh. “We have to stop her from screwing this all up. She’s FINALLY in a good place. Oh! Laryngitis! That’s perfect.”

Well played.

Manic Monday

Where are the Bangles when I need some theme music?

Anyway, there’s some follow up to last night’s ‘woe is me’ post. First of all, I appreciate the support. Every heart, every comment… (Especially the comments!) … it all made me feel less loony and beaten. So thank you. Truly.

Secondly, I had a conversation with the aforementioned best friend regarding her unexpected departure in reaction to my bitchface. She said she worries about me. I get that, and appreciate it. I’m worried, too.

She also recommended seeing an herbalist, as I have issues with pharmaceutical solutions to mood and hormone imbalances. That was an interesting and novel idea to me. I’ve worked on diet and exercise, and that’s helped the pain and physical dysfunction of my cycles, but the crazy remains.

So my question is this: do any of you ladies out there employ holistic/homeopathic remedies for battling mood swings and hormone hell? Because although I believe that one of the flip-sides of a creative brain is a tendency to drift towards the melodramatic, I can’t keep losing my mind every 28 days. It’s eventually going to wreck my life and drive away all of my people.

Ugly seven

*I’m angry. No real reason. Just am. And there’s too much anxiety happening. Way too much. Probably because I’m hormonal. I know, it seems like it’s going on forever. It’s the tail-end, so we should return to my regular level of neurotic in a day or so, don’t worry.

*I’m not mommy-ing very well today. Still short on sleep and VERY low on patience. Add in one sick kid and both little ones are teething that last damn set of molars….

*Because of the two points above, I’ve managed to clash with nearly everyone I’ve come in contact with today. I’m probably lucky the oldest and my husband didn’t just get in the car and start driving. And I’m pretty sure my best friend avoided eating dinner at our house because I was being a super bitch.

*I hate when I feel like this. I want to scream and throw things and I wonder wtf is wrong with everyone, but then it occurs to me waaaaay too late, that it’s NOT everyone, it’s me. Usually after I’ve left a trail of bodies behind. (Metaphorically, of course)

*Today made me realize an awful truth: my dreams of being a stay at home mom are bullshit. I couldn’t do it. Yeah, when the kids are healthy and the weather is nice and we can get out and do things and I’m sane and rational enough to handle the chaos, I’m on cloud nine. But days like today are the perfect storm and I failed. Miserably. Maybe that’s normal. It still makes me feel like I’m not good enough. I feel like I’d screw them up and doom them to years of therapy.

*The above paragraph and associated epiphany makes me very, very sad. As in, sobbing a big ol’ ugly cry in the floor. Even though being a SAHM isn’t a possibility right now, to think it can’t happen because of me (and not just finances) is heartbreaking.

*For all of you thinking, “Get a grip, woman!” I promise I will. This is just a rare and mostly uncut peep into my crazy. I’ll eventually sleep, drink some tea and take my vitamins, go back to the gym, and the world will right itself again in my eyes. In the meantime, I’ll be in the corner, hissing if anyone comes near me.

It’s no-sock time again! My favorite time of year is pretty much anytime I can live in these shoes. And that is now. Finally. If it gets cold again, I swear I’m going to cut someone.

I am pounding the Vitamin C, but I think I’m about to succumb to the plague my children brought home this week. Bad timing. I want my weekend, dang it! Such is life. Can’t have a sick baby coughing on you for three days and get off scot-free. I’m immune to the stomach hell, but apparently this upper respiratory virus is my demon.  

In other health news, I started taking the daily vitamins again after several months of slacking. I think it might be helping. I feel a bit more together than I have as of late. The difference on my brain last week and this week is considerable. And that’s saying a lot, being that I’m looking at the world through a hormone filter right now. 

Trying to make some big decisions about kids and caregivers and summer plans and school and vacation… Shoots my nerves all to hell. Some days this grown-up gig sucks. 

Be good, y’all, or at least be good at it.

It’s no-sock time again! My favorite time of year is pretty much anytime I can live in these shoes. And that is now. Finally. If it gets cold again, I swear I’m going to cut someone.

I am pounding the Vitamin C, but I think I’m about to succumb to the plague my children brought home this week. Bad timing. I want my weekend, dang it! Such is life. Can’t have a sick baby coughing on you for three days and get off scot-free. I’m immune to the stomach hell, but apparently this upper respiratory virus is my demon.

In other health news, I started taking the daily vitamins again after several months of slacking. I think it might be helping. I feel a bit more together than I have as of late. The difference on my brain last week and this week is considerable. And that’s saying a lot, being that I’m looking at the world through a hormone filter right now.

Trying to make some big decisions about kids and caregivers and summer plans and school and vacation… Shoots my nerves all to hell. Some days this grown-up gig sucks.

Be good, y’all, or at least be good at it.

Poppy's Story: Part 23

wordsontheceiling:

Poppy awoke to the smell of eggs and sausage and cinnamon and it took her foggy brain a few minutes to realize where she was. The wonderful odors had her thinking she was at home and her father was in the kitchen again. But no; she was in Atlanta, still, in the apartment, and someone was cooking…

I had another piece ready, so here it is. Read up! :)

GPOY

Short on sleep, overloaded on hormones, distracted by concern over my sick child, and DEFINITELY not in the mood to put up with anyone’s shit.

Not today, people. I will eat you alive & not apologize for it.

GPOY

Short on sleep, overloaded on hormones, distracted by concern over my sick child, and DEFINITELY not in the mood to put up with anyone’s shit.

Not today, people. I will eat you alive & not apologize for it.

(Source: memento-mori-inaeternum)

Don’t look…

….at your reflection in the top of your 90’s chrome bathroom faucet as you lean over to spit out your toothpaste. You’ll scare the shit out of yourself. It’s just not pretty.