I know you don’t want to hear about my stupid lame shitty week, but man, what a stupid lame shitty week it’s been. It’s been cold and windy and dark and rainy and everything looks like this:
I haven’t been running because it’s so miserable outside and by the time JB gets home the last thing on earth I want to do is go out into the pitch-black world and be alone with my brain some more.
I feel grumpy about having gained some weight and the grumpiness makes me want to eat which makes me gain more weight. My pants don’t fit.
I’m tired of cleaning other people’s messes. I feel nearly weepy, sometimes, with the truth that it never ends, never. I’m annoyed by everything, from the clutter and crap and stickiness to the constant pshew pshew pshew machine-gun noises they make.
During the last two days in a row, I’ve ended up yelling at Riley. Not without reason, I don’t think, but last night I realized that not only am I probably blowing each transgression out of proportion, I can’t seem to figure out when to move on from the moment. When he gets into trouble and the consequences are doled out (yesterday it was toys getting put away in time out), well, what next? He just wants the scolding to be over with so that whew, everything goes back to normal. Me, I’m still pissed, I’m not ready to let him off the hook just yet.
How long do you let that go on, though? Giving your kid the cold shoulder, letting him know you’re pretty goddamned displeased with his behavior? I feel hateful and ugly when I’m mad at him and god knows it’s the last thing I want happening in a house that already feels like it’s closing in on me, but, well, shit, sometimes he’s so frustrating, and ARGH.
I feel like all the murky parts of myself have come swirling to the surface this week, and man, I’m glad it’s over. Time to kickstart into a better frame of everything.