It's days like today that make me wish for my old coping mechanisms.
I feel like holing in a booth or a chair with unlimited cups of diesel fuel coffee and chain-smoking while I journal. I want a big soft hoodie to shield me from the outside. I want to plug my ears with my iPod and journal through the music.
I still use music. It's hard to connect with my feelings. I don't like to face them. I would rather bury everything and just clean my sink or sort laundry. Instead, I sit down with an empty page, a pen and a few playlists. Rage Against the Machine pounds in my ears while I mark up my journal in big block letters. I let the anger flow out of my body and onto paper where I can deal with everything without it being so jumbled. I turn the music to Alison Krauss and let the tears smudge the page while I allow myself to be sad and write about why I'm sad.
The coffee keeps me alert and focused. The cigarettes make me calm and take away the facial twitch that seems to get worse whenever the anxiety gets in the red.
I can't do this anymore. I can still journal. I can still listen to music. I have to limit my caffeine so that I can get enough sleep to get up in the morning and take care of the kids. Smoking is right out. Can't pick that habit back up.
I'm a suburban mom of three. I have to act like one. Take my medicine, say my prayers, stop complaining and just do what has to be done.
Still, every once and a while, my finger itch.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Death to Naptime
I'm not sure what's happening in our house.
Sophie is 3 and a half. She has started to give up napping. I'm cool with this decision or "down wit it" as the younglings say. The only problem with her wanting to give up her afternoon nap is that by 5:00, demons start pouring out of her mouth and ears. Big purple demons with pitchforks, torches, butcher knives and clipboards asking if you have a minute for a small survey. They make her rampage through the house knocking down her brother and looking for small animals to stomp.
So I've started doing the Mom Thing of "You don't have to sleep. Just lay down and rest for a while." This isn't going over well, either. She takes this time to pin Pink Baby and Ernie to the wall by the crib rail and then strip her fitted sheet off the bed and wear it like a cape.
Next is my two year old, Gideon. The Boy still needs a nap and he will still take a nap.
Eventually.
First he has to do the I'm-Not-Tired dance for about 4 hours. Then he has to stare into space like a zombie for another 30 minutes. He has to refuse all food you give him and then try to eat the dried up macaroni that the vacuum missed on the floor under the ottoman. He has to stop playing with all 10 gazillion of his toys and only want your skillets and something from the recycling bin. Then he has to crawl all over you like you are Kilimanjaro. (YOU ARE THERE.) Once you get him into the bed, he has to take off the fitted sheet (what is with this?!) and try to crawl under his mattress.
Then he will finally pass out cold 20 minutes before you need to leave to go somewhere.
Milly takes about 3 naps a day. Well, according to the schedule, she takes 3 naps a day. In truth, she screams like she's being skinned alive until I feed her a bottle and then will army crawl over the entire living room looking for razor blades to swallow. She will slither up behind her brother and grab his ankle causing him to leap 40 feet into the air and clutch the ceiling fan. Then, when she is yawning, she gently lays down and everything is wonderful.
For about 40 minutes.
My mother has asked me before why I put my kids to bed at 7:00. ("It's so early!)
Mama's tired, yo.
Sophie is 3 and a half. She has started to give up napping. I'm cool with this decision or "down wit it" as the younglings say. The only problem with her wanting to give up her afternoon nap is that by 5:00, demons start pouring out of her mouth and ears. Big purple demons with pitchforks, torches, butcher knives and clipboards asking if you have a minute for a small survey. They make her rampage through the house knocking down her brother and looking for small animals to stomp.
So I've started doing the Mom Thing of "You don't have to sleep. Just lay down and rest for a while." This isn't going over well, either. She takes this time to pin Pink Baby and Ernie to the wall by the crib rail and then strip her fitted sheet off the bed and wear it like a cape.
Next is my two year old, Gideon. The Boy still needs a nap and he will still take a nap.
Eventually.
First he has to do the I'm-Not-Tired dance for about 4 hours. Then he has to stare into space like a zombie for another 30 minutes. He has to refuse all food you give him and then try to eat the dried up macaroni that the vacuum missed on the floor under the ottoman. He has to stop playing with all 10 gazillion of his toys and only want your skillets and something from the recycling bin. Then he has to crawl all over you like you are Kilimanjaro. (YOU ARE THERE.) Once you get him into the bed, he has to take off the fitted sheet (what is with this?!) and try to crawl under his mattress.
Then he will finally pass out cold 20 minutes before you need to leave to go somewhere.
Milly takes about 3 naps a day. Well, according to the schedule, she takes 3 naps a day. In truth, she screams like she's being skinned alive until I feed her a bottle and then will army crawl over the entire living room looking for razor blades to swallow. She will slither up behind her brother and grab his ankle causing him to leap 40 feet into the air and clutch the ceiling fan. Then, when she is yawning, she gently lays down and everything is wonderful.
For about 40 minutes.
My mother has asked me before why I put my kids to bed at 7:00. ("It's so early!)
Mama's tired, yo.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)