Sorry, Mama. Sometimes there are no other words to use.
My daughter needs help on her homework...or so she says. When I try to help she gets angry. "You're not helping. You don't know what you're doing. That doesn't make any sense." Yeah, that really makes me want to help in a big, bad way. If her attitude gets any worse right now she'll qualify for an MTV reality show of her very own. She is absolutely lovely at the moment.
My face is broken out worse than it was the last time I was pregnant/nursing. It's just not pretty. No amount of make up will help. I even resorted to the toothpaste as pimple cream last night in desperation. It didn't really help.
Flip flops are verboten in the grade school portion of my kids' school. Because of her SPD, BabyGirl cannot abide "real" shoes. She lives in flip flops all summer if she wears shoes at all. During the school year she wears Crocs with out socks. They must be actual Crocs, not the cheap knock-offs. If you've ever worn the real things you'll know why.
The local medical supply store where we've always bought her Crocs stopped carrying them. No one with in an hour's drive carries them. I cannot pack up all 4 FarmHands and drive an hour & a half to buy a pair of shoes...so I caved in an ordered them on line. I hate doing that because she really needs to try her shoes on prior to purchase. They finally came in today & surprise, surprise, they do not fit. Not even close.
QM is going to try to find her a pair while she's traveling up here tomorrow. I'm ready to pull my hair out over this child's shoe situation.
Babe (the new van) goes into the shop on Monday morning. They've promised me it will be done by Wednesday night. I have to make the above mentioned hour & a half drive with all 4 FarmHands on Thursday. I MUST have my van. Husband MUST have his to drive to work. I'm a bit nervous.
I do not normally over-schedule us but next week is full. I mean FULL. Monday is our snack day for the kindergarten class, so I have to deliver 17 bananas before taking Babe into the shop. B.B. has an eye doctor's appointment Monday at 4 (Busha is going to loan me her old car so I can get him to town while his dad's at work).
Wednesday I have to pick up the van. Thursday,the three oldest kids are having dental work including, but not limited too: fillings, caps, sealants, and one tooth pulled (and there is nothing I love more than dental work on children).
Friday, #1 Son had an eye doctor's appointment because he's got to get new glasses. He has out grown the first pair we bought him (we had the lenses replaced when his vision changed) and the second pair makes his face & ears break out horribly (like bleeding-and-oozing-despite-the-clear-coat-of-nail-polish-I-put-on-them-to-keep-the-nickle-from-touching-his-skin horrible). I'm really hoping they have an all plastic frame that is suitable for a 7 year old boy. I don't want to send him to second grade looking like Ugly Betty.
Saturday is NM & A Starry Night's wedding. I'm really looking forward to it, but fear things could deteriorate before we ever get there. Husband is not the social butterfly I am. The FarmHands are not quite "formal event" broken. I really want to enjoy myself & the day, but just don't see it happening the way I'd like it to.
I'm hormonal and emotional and tired. I'm missing my best friend like crazy. I'm talking wicked-bad-crazy.
I'm sick to death of being yelled at by children who are delusional enough to think that #1 they know better than me and #2 that it's acceptable to yell at me.
I'm tired of the bickering and fighting during the few hours they are home & in the same room.
I hate that my husband has to work 10 & 12 hours a day 5 days a week and 6 hours more on Saturday.
I hate that the kids aren't going to get to see much of their dad during the school year.
I'm so sick of the oppressive heat & humidity that has trapped us indoors this summer.
I'm ready for a hard frost (and I am never ready for cold weather) that will kill off the ticks & chiggers so that if we do get a half way decent day we can get outside.
If you've made it this far, God bless you. I'm pretty sure He's sick of hearing me complain. I know it's all petty. I know that I am blessed. But at this moment it's more comfortable to lay face down in the mud than to roll over and look up at the sky. I need an attitude adjustment just as badly as BabyGirl.