P.T.S.D.

.....from exercise.  And YES, I truly and firmly believe this is possible.  Maybe not in everyone's case, but certainly in mine.

Mostly because I'm out of shape, overweight and completely lack stamina.  I eat too much, drink too much and find new and creative ways to talk myself out of physical  labor  activity.

It's all right now, though.  Because after months of  promising sexual favors beseeching to my husband, he finally agreed to join a gym.  Since my body is allergic to any form of food or wine deprivation, I have consorted to working out.  Every day.  For 2 hours.

And you know it's time to get your ass back into shape, when your muffin top accidentally bumps the emergency stop button while "jogging" on the treadmill.  Oh yeah.  No joke.  Go ahead, laugh amongst yourselves.

And when the more "seasoned" women in your aerobics class are able to keep up, while you're silently praying for sudden death.

And when you lose all feeling in your extremities for hours after taking Body Combat.

(Just keepin' it real, people)

But the cherry on top of the ice cream is this.........I get to dump drop my children off at the childcare for TWO.  WHOLE.  HOURS!!!!  And they love it.  They look forward to going!  They motivate me even on the days I feel like if I exert myself in any way my hamstring muscles might actually detach from my femur.

It's a WINE/WINE........I mean a WIN/WIN.

(See where my head is at??)

Disturbia

I think the disclaimer on the bottle of little yellow pills should be changed to read:  “Warning: Do Not Consume Alcohol When Taking this Medication…….unless you have children, in which case, pill is only effective when taken with alcohol”

Can I get a Hallelujah and Amen??!

Four weeks ago, Little Man breaks his arm.  By jumping off the couch.  Not only does he break it, but completely displaces the bones.  As horrific of an experience as that was, I assumed that was the worst of it.  That after a month stuck in a full arm cast, things would be healed.  Mostly.

Yeah.  Not so much.

At his 4 week check up with the orthopedist, his arm looks like this……

And this was revealed after the traumatizing experience of having to hold him down on the table, while they “sawed” the cast off, while he screamed “mommy!! mommy!!!” over & over.  Convinced they were going to “saw” his arm completely off. 

I was shaking.  Sweating profusely.  My 2 year old was climbing up the back of my legs in fear for her own life after witnessing the torture her brother was enduring.

I had no words of comfort for him.  Or for her.  Only regret.  For not having taken a dose of Xanax before leaving the house.

The bone is still broken.  And shifting.  His arm remains swollen.  And bruised.  My nerves are shot.  My patience is gone.

Even though my limbs are physically intact, I spent the rest of the day feeling totally disturbed.  I feel helpless.  Useless.  Nervous.  Anxious.

Will his arm ever look normal??  Is he permanently deformed??

The doctor assures me that eventually things will heal.  But as his mother, I feel like I have to fix this.  Make it better.  Right.  Now.

And the bigger problem is, I know this is just the beginning.  Of a ‘mom’-life filled with worry, panic, frustration and tears.  Yeah, yeah, yeah….I know. It’s all balanced out with joy, happiness and laughter. blah, blah, blah.  But those are the easy moments.  These are the moments that SUCK!!!

"They" say whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.  My question is: How do you know it's not just killing you slowly???!!!

Ugh.

He Doesn't Pay Rent....

.....our new front porch "resident".  But, I'm still using him to my advantage.

Part of me really wants him gone because he is a ginormous freak of nature and it actually grosses me out to look at him (I've never really been a *nature-lover* type).  Although I'm sure some would find him a little fascinating.

But, I gotta admit, I really like to use him as leverage against the kids when they misbehave.  It's awesome!

"Do you want mommy to feed you to the spider??  No?  Well, then stop kicking the ball in the house"

*Disclaimer:  If you think this makes me a bad mother, you are correct.  However, I do much worse shit to my kids than threaten to feed them to an octopus/chihuahua/vampire bat/spider hybrid.  They were already screwed up (because of me), but for many other reasons *

Addendum: As of this morning, "Charlotte" (as my husband called him/her) has chosen to vacate his/her position on the front porch.  Probably on the hunt for a stray cat for breakfast.  
I guess I will need to come up with a new way to threaten my children inappropriately.  Drat!

I guess I'm not that funny

I went to have lunch with my 1^st grader at school yesterday.

I met another mother, sitting at the same table, who was visiting ONE of her FOUR children who attended the school.

She informed me that each of her four children were 13 months apart.

I asked her how she managed to remain sober.

** insert blank stare and cricket noises **

I guess my humor is just lost on some people.