I try really hard to be a positive person. I don't like to be a whiner- unless I'm talking to my mom (sorry Mom) or my friend ,Ellen (sorry, Ellen)- then the whining just runs out of me.
I'm also not a whiner because about 96% of the time, I recognize that I am so blessed and complaining seems selfish. But mostly, I don't like to whine and complain because I find it kind of annoying in other people. Especially my kids.
All that being said- I'm still in a whiny mood. This is the fourth day in a row of this foul mood and I'm starting to drive everyone around me nuts. This weird thing happens to me during "raffle season". For the few weeks every year that I run the raffle, I walk around in this ethereal state of la-la-ness. I will call it Drew Barrymore syndrome. You know- where everything is just so "magical" and beautiful and lovely? I walk around and marvel at the goodness of people and their willingness to support others. It's almost like someone injects me with this sickeningly sweet stuff that just oozes out in annoying increments.
During this time, my kids get away with everything. "Mom? Can we have ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner?" they say. And the Drew Barrymore syndrome comes out and I'm all, "Oh yes! How lucky are we that we have a refrigerator to keep our food cold! Yes, kids! Let's all have ice cream for breakfast and marvel at how awesome it is that God thought to make cows who make milk and then someone thought to mix that will salt and sugar to give us ice cream." Do you see how this is equally as annoying as complaining?
The sickening sweet carried over into everything. When one of the kids talked non-stop for three days and asked every single freaking question imaginable, I just looked at him and though, "Wow! This is our child who was in speech therapy for so long and I wondered if he would ever talk like this. What a miracle!"
And then the raffle was over, and I'm not gonna lie- every single one of those sweet feelings were over with it... I'm now on day four of the great funk of 2013.
Before the great funk hit, things were just so great it was ridiculous. Last week was spring break. We had so much fun. We hung out with 75% of the grandparents and went to the zoo, and played on the land, and went to the movies, and took an art class and all other fun kinds of things. And then Monday came and the kids went back to school and I had two and a half hours with no children in the house. I looked around and thought, "Holy crap! Those people are a whole lot of work. And even though they are wonderful kids- they suck me completely dry. It's actually kind of nice when they are gone. This is quiet! And clean ! And no one is going to mess it up! And no one needs a snack! And no one is unfolding clothes faster than I can fold them!" (Go ahead, judge me. I don't care. I LOVE having a break.)
And then the bus came around and dropped them off. And the chaos came back. And my perpetual three week long good mood went right out the window. Now when they ask for ice cream I kind of want to look at them cross eyed and ask them if they've lost their brains (yeah, I get it. Inconsistent parenting, blah, blah, blah.) And when that same kid kept asking questions all the livelong day? I kind of wanted to permanently attach my noise cancelling headphones to my ears and never ever take them off. Either that or figure out a way to shut his mouth- kind of like when Bugs Bunny gets mad at Donald Duck and knocks his beak backwards. Surely the beak doesn't work when it's backwards?
I don't know what it is about getting a couple of hours of freedom. It's like crack for me. (my husband likes to remind me that since I've never used crack this is a weird expression for me to use, but whatever. Maybe I should say it's like Diet Pepsi for me) So- crack /Diet Pepsi freedom. I get a little and I just want more. Sometimes I think it's almost worse to get a small break because it just wrecks you for re-entry. Can I get an amen? Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade my kids for the world, but there are some seasons of life (like today) where I would give my middle toe to have a week at a cabin in the woods with nothing but my bathrobe and my laptop and a bottle of wine. There would be no bras allowed.
That's the other thing you should know about me. I hate to wear a bra. It's the first thing that comes off when I walk into my home. If you knock on my door and I'm not expecting you, I will great you free boobed at the door. Perhaps part of my bad mood has stemmed from the fact that we were so on the go over spring break that I spent too much time in my bra.
I have a whole other list of complaints happening over here and I may as well just get them out of the way and move on with life.
...I finally came to terms with the fact that the little girl who we thought we were adopting is not ever going to come to our home. We had bought her several things and on Monday, I returned most of them. It almost undid me.
...I got a giant packet in the mail about our annual foster care review coming up. It was a painful reminder of how we've been at this for what seems like forever and still have no kids in our home. We called and signed up for our foster care classes in October of 2011. It's now 2013 and we still have no kids and have been rejected for over 20 kids listed on national photolistings. I'm starting to get a complex.
...I'm afraid that my wisdom teeth may be coming in. I'm waking up with a headache almost every day from clenching my jaw and my mouth feels six sizes too small. I hate not having dental insurance.
...My computer bit the dust. The man at the repair shop said that the mother board was shot. I'm a "writer" with no computer! AHHHHH! I'm borrowing my mom's teeny tiny netbook that makes me feel like I have Wreck It Ralph hands typing on this itty bitty keyboard. And it's very slow. I'll type a sentence and 30 seconds later it appears on the page.
...We are having a tick problem out on our land. One of the trees that we cut down must have been infested with ticks and so every time we wander in the woods, we get ticks on us. Well, not me, because bugs seem to hate me. I never get bitten by any kinds of bugs. But my husband is a bug magnet and so each day we have 45 conversations that go exactly like this:
Him: Can you look me over for ticks?
Me: I don't see any.
Him: Look again. They give me the creeps.
Me: I don't see any.
Him: Can you look again. I hate ticks. They give me the heeby jeebies.
Me: I don't see any.
Him: Can you look again. Ticks really make me nervous.
And this goes on and on and on and oh my gosh if I have to have that conversation again I'm going to scream!
After typing all of this out, I've just decided to stop being in such a bad mood... starting tomorrow. I know that it starts with gratitude and thankfulness. I've thought long and hard about this (for at least 3 minutes) and I've decided that the only thing I really feel good about right now is that we've recently switched from margarine to butter after seeing that stupid thing on Facebook about how margarine is only one molecule away from plastic. I figure plastic probably isn't good to eat so we switched to butter and I really like butter. Butter is yummy. Today, I'm focusing on the butter.
Come on, butter!
In case the butter doesn't do it for me- anyone know where I can get an attitude adjustment- STAT? Yikes!
This post is brought to you by the number 4 (as in 4 days of foulness) and by the letter P (as in PMS)