Bitch, bitch, bitch...

It's not that I don't like my life... I'm just worn with it.

Monkey is driving me, well, bananas. Everything seems to be such a struggle with him these days; it's difficult to even want to take him to the park some days, as he will lay down on the ground and tantrum at the slightest hint that he can't do... something. [sigh]

It's these years, I know.

I'm just tired of routine. Tired of every day looking like the next, and when Sunday night approaches, my feelings of dread that here we are, another week is about to begin. And everything starts all over.

I think it's the falling into a rut thing, fo' sho'.

I miss my friend, Cindy. Even if she were planning to move back here, which she's not, it wouldn't be the same. I am willing to make new friends, but I haven't found people I'm much interested in knowing more than casually. Redbeard has friends, even different tiers of friends, depending on what he's doing; it seems he always has something planned with them.

I guess I feel lonely and I'm often pushed to the edge by Monkey's tremendously toddler behaviors. Oh, and yeah, I'm 3 1/2 months pregnant...

Sometimes I'm desperate to escape the limitations of my housewifely role; it's the job of any job (besides perhaps ditch-digging) that I'm LEAST suited in skills and inclination for! I am a terrific nurturer, an inquiring mind, a pretty good mom (mostly!) and I like to have fun. I have only intermittent enjoyment in cooking or meal-planning, and no enjoyment whatsoever in laundry, washing dishes or cleaning.

I have no idea how I ended up here, other than after meeting Redbeard, I wanted to have children and with him.

Despite my shortcomings, I try (and mostly fail), but I suppose, as Six Feet Under character Ruth Fisher says to her adult son, Nate, in a moment of emotional purging, "...(T)he trying is how you know you are loved...!"

I've always known my aptitude for change is not high. Work is one thing, but not in my personal life so much. The rub for me, staying at home to care for my child, is that work is home. Home has always been sanctuary for me; the place where I can put up my feet and say 'fuck off' to the world.

Now, it's headquarters for taking care of the family's needs, and despite having so much time, I have so little!

Bitch, bitch, bitch... Tiresome, isn't it?

I need a vacation; a really good drunk would suit nearly as well, but alas.

More than a month away...

... from blogging.

It feels like a whole lot longer than that. It's therapy and I need some of that. Monkey is alternately driving me crazy and making my heart melt. This must be the onset of toddlerhood that I've heard mentioned guardedly in dark corners by exhausted looking mothers with staring eyes and facial tics.

I asked Redbeard today, fiercely, "IS IT TIME FOR DRINKING YET....?" And he quickly assured me that it was, out of self-preservation as well as acknowledgement of Monkey's horrible behavior.

Yikes.

Please let it be a phase.

Oh-- and shots at the doctor tomorrow. Wonderful.

[quietly begins to rip hair out in advance]


In other news, we're back online and in temporary housing after returning from Ohio (Monkey was wonderful on the plane, with 14 hours in Minneapolis airport, and with his grandparents-- we could not have asked for better behavior. Wonder what happened to it...). When we got back to our house (after sacking out in a motel for 9 hours), our roof was buckled and looked to cave in and we had a catastrophic flood that left the living room carpet soaked (this *after* 2 days of living with frozen pipes, drains, toilet). Not fun. :(

Suck ass- but we're out. It will be okay.

We're spreading out in a bigger place for now, and we'll see what happens in the spring. It's been a lot of stress though, and now we're not sure if we should keep TTC until we know what's going on with our housing.

Decisions, decisions.

Well, I'm off to entertain His Monkeyness until Redbeard returns. Hope all enjoyed the winter holidays. It's really nice to be back in therapy.