I yelled at my kids today

It was NOT a good mommy morning.
I yelled at Princess Crybaby for dropping her cookies in the car.
I didn’t tell Munchkin “goodbye, I love you” when I dropped her off. I told her to be good and mind her own business.
I mumbled something huffy under my breath when I had to find the compact cards for Coach.
I feel like I failed as a human being today by being a complete bitch. I’m going to make something yummy for dinner tonight, to make up for my awful-ness this morning. And read bedtime stories.
And, yes, I’m trying not to cry about it, but I’m not doing a very good job.
I’m tired of being pregnant. I feel fat, my uterus feels like it’s starting to fall out and I DO NOT want to hear another person tell me how quickly September is going to go by because I might punch them in the throat.
I’m terrified about having three little people need me – at the same time- to help them get ready for the world when I, myself, feel like such a tangled mess.
I’d like to go back to bed, please. I’m being unkind and that’s the same crap I yelled at Munchkin for.


Have I mentioned how much I detest the unknown? Walking down paths unexplored gives me hives. I hate not having a plan. HATE. Like I hate mayonnaise kind of hate. Oh, I’ll eat mayo, but it was almost assuredly a mistake or an accident that lands it on my plate.

And that’s where the adventure part comes in. When my mother uses the word Adventure, I know the wheels have come off and all hell has broken loose. That’s generally how I feel about the unknown. It’s not good. It feels me with no positive feelings. No slight euphoria at the thrill of discovery. Just a dull, sick feeling. As if my body is preparing to be punched in the gut.

Ok, enough with the metaphors.

I am 32 weeks pregnant. A month ago, our doc informs us she’s leaving her current practice and going to work for the big hospital (where we always intended to deliver). We had insurance ($$) all worked out and everything was going according to plan. And then. Well, her move means that insurance estimate is now something we have to mess with. Dealing with insurance people and medical billing people makes me want to puke on the best of days. But having to deal with the unknown of how this change will affect our very carefully balanced finances, as I’m staring at six weeks of maternity leave in a little less than 2 months makes me want to faint every time I think about it. Or cry. And you KNOW how I feel about crying.

Now, let’s add the fun part. When I left the school business, I went to work for a smaller business. While there are many, many ups that have come with the change (uh, the pregnancy being right there at the top of that list), there were some benefit changes that came along with losing the buying power of a large company that I didn’t think about (not that it would have really made that much of a difference), but that are having a very big impact on the bottom line. Thanks to the ridiculous increase in healthcare costs, it makes far more financial sense to drop my coverage on myself and go back on Coach’s insurance with the district as soon as possible. That’ll be effective in a week. That solves several problems; once all the wrinkles are worked out.

So. The fun part comes in this morning. Since my doc is now with the big hospital, all the insurance estimates have to be redone. That part, itself, really isn’t that bad. It’s just numbers. Add on top that I am switching insurance and all the mess they scratched on those papers today will be null and void come Monday. Back to unknown.

Ugh. So, we’re looking at a hospital balance due before the end of September, but we really don’t know how much will be due because the new insurance isn’t effective. It’ll be somewhere in the neighborhood of what we’ve already been estimated, but I HATE not knowing. Bam. Done. Ugh (again).

I know. This too shall pass. (I hope you heard that in the most sarcastic, obnoxious voice you can imagine, because that’s how it sounds in my head.) Platitudes make me almost as sick at the unknown.


When I can’t see the bottom


I have this thing about water. If I can’t see to the bottom, I don’t want to put my feet in it. Because who knows what’s down there. In the dark. I know there are living things. Moving things. Biting things. Things that will hurt me. And I don’t want any part of it. I wonder if there is a phobia for “fear of murky water.”

I love the water. I love boats. I love listening to water and wading my toes into the surf at the beach. But IN the water? Um…I think I’ll just sit under the umbrella, with the camera.

I know. I’m weird. Sue me.

ps. this is a metaphor for my fear of the unknown or unexpected; but I don’t want to poke too closely at that this afternoon. I AM really afraid of murky water, but I am also very afraid of the unknown and I HATE surprises. (like something nibbling at my toes or something sharp or squishy on my feet. *grimace*)

Crappy Day

This day has been a big, smelly, load of gross. Seemingly, everything that COULD go wrong, DID. The only thing I can think of that would have topped off this day is 1. locking my keys in my car or 2. getting pulled over.

Despite great planning and stellar coping skills, there were several technical issues with our parent meeting tonight that caused the wheels to come off in front of 500 parents and, naturally, The Boss.

The car is acting up. Again. The only bright side to this day’s car nonsense is the promise we are going car shopping VERY. SOON.

And I have another day that looks just like this one to look forward to. Joy.

Not for the first time, I wonder if is time to look at another line of work. Not because I don’t love what I do but because there is not enough of me to cover all there is to love. Ever. No matter how hard I work, no matter how much I achieve, there is always more to do/accomplish/overcome. There is never a single moment to reflect. To decompress. To breathe. It is a constant state of hyper-aware.

Like Alice’s White Rabbit, I’m always late. Always just on the verge of panic. Regardless of the reality of my level of preparation (which, most of the time, is pretty damn detailed), I always feel like I’m winging it. I loathe that about myself. I know it is because I am a perfectionist. My problem is that I am the black swan. I hear my darkest fears just over my shoulder (You are inadequate. You are incapable. You are NOT ENOUGH.) and so I rub and polish and worry until I’ve worn away all the shine on something. Even if there was never anything there.

Sinatra would say, “That’s Life,” but I wonder if it really has to be. *sigh*

g’night. I’m giving up on this day.


Ok, epiphany time…  I find it easier to lose weight when I’m NOT working out but controlling my food intake.  When I work out, I hardly lose anything.  I think it’s because I am still figuring out how to balance the increased calorie needs with the increased calorie burn that comes with working out.  My body goes into starvation mode pretty easily.  Is that because I was always too thin in my teens through the birth of my first child?

When I think back over time, food and my weight has been a touchy subject all my life.  When I get busy, pre-occupied or anxious, I quit eating.  Literally, I forget to be hungry.  Now, that sounds crazy but it really is true.  My mother was forever checking my collar-bones and grilling me about what I’d eaten.  I was always very thin – sometimes to the point of concern.  I never tried to be thin.

Then, somewhere in college, food became something else.  It was almost a weapon I would use against myself if I was unhappy.  (this conclusion was made upon looking back; when I was doing it, I was not aware of what I was doing.)  This, combined with the party lifestyle I adopted, brought my weight to near dangerous levels.  When I moved home to start UMHB, I was a size 4.  I’m nearly six foot tall.  In nobody’s book is that considered healthy.

Then, as tends to happen, my metabolism slowed down in my mid-20s and I began to gain weight.  Since the birth of my first child, I’ve hovered around the same weight.  While I was working at the CAC, the workload, single parenthood and life, in general, triggered that no-eating cycle.  I suffered terrible stomach pain – I thought I might have an ulcer.  Everything I ate (besides ramen or salad) would hurt so I began to eat less and less.  I got down to a 10; the smallest I’d been since college.

I didn’t stay that small, of course.  I started eating again eventually and didn’t work out.  Then, comes the second baby and that brings us to now.

My conclusions:

  • I do not know how to lose weight in a healthy way.
  • I have a love/hate relationship with food.
  • I am not a stress eater.  (thankfully)
  • I am a stress-starver.
  • I have a lot of stress in my life (even good stress is still stress; as my mother says).

What I’d like to do is lose the weight in a way I know how to lose it (control food intake) and then incorporate fitness to keep it off.  But I know all my fitness friends are already shaking their heads and saying, “you must balance fitness and nutrition at the same time in order to achieve long-term goals.”  How I break this cycle and get to the weight I want without starving myself is the question of the year. I haven’t had that epiphany yet. LOL