Complaints are funny.

I spent a while today working on Plan C for the road trip. 21 days in Orlando, a week down at Vero Beach because Shanna thinks that sounds like more fun than four weeks of amusement park. Then way more time with the relatives in Texas. They wanted more time and I wasn’t sure how I would squeeze it in with the later dates in Disney World. Now, no trouble. Shanna gets the ten days she wants with family.

Only 13 weeks to go. That’s hardly anything at all. Three months. It’s getting close.

I feel like such an asshole having mixed feelings about my current life. My friends are so nice to me and I’m so ungrateful. I’m working as hard as I can on gratitude.

Had a little… interaction with Callidora the other day. I asked before we went into Ikea if she wanted me to shop while she was in kid-care or if she wanted to shop. She was adamant that I should do my shopping while she was in kid care. When she got out of kid-care she started pitching a fit because she wanted to go shopping.

Uhm, no. You said I should do my shopping alone so I did and now I’m done. No, I’m not going again for your sake. I only needed a kettle (my electric kettle bit the dust. Boo hoo) and some cheap journals. That’s practically walking out of Ikea empty handed. I DON’T need more temptation.

So Calli flipped out. She started screaming at me. I stopped walking and turned to her and said, “Does this approach ever get you what you want?”

She went still. “Uhm, no.”

“Would you like to try again?”

“Yes.” Pause for deep breath. “I would really like to go shopping.”

“Well, you already made the decision for this trip. I’m sorry you changed your mind after the fact. Would you like to make a request for the next time we come to Ikea?”

“Yes. Next time we come to Ikea, will you please sit and read while I’m in kid care because I really want to go shopping with you.”

“Yes. We can do that. No problem.”


Then she skipped back to the car. She went from screaming to fine in under ten minutes. It was like fucking magic.

I love home schooling. I feel like we get so many chances to work through the bumps. Speaking of which, I need to reread the seven year old book. Before I assassinate my oldest child. She’s heading into a new stage. I need to have a kindly old woman explain this stage to me and tell me that this too shall pass. God I love these parenting books. They make everything easier.

I feel like parenting is teaching me how to let bad things just be until they pass. I was very bad at that before kids. I had to do something. Then you have kids. Then you get fucking tired. Now I can wait.

I feel incredibly guilty for having the suicidal ideation at this point. (Today was great. No ideation at all. I can’t remember any super intense ideation towards the tail end of yesterday. Is the intensity passing?) I feel like it is a horrifying injustice to the people who love me. How can I be such a selfish, mean little bastard?

It just comes naturally.

It bothered my mom that I wanted to kill myself. I didn’t care very much. It bothers me very much that I have impulses to leave Noah and Shanna and Calli. They deserve better. They deserve better than to have me flailing and shrieking about how much my life sucks. My life really doesn’t suck. I am incredibly lucky. I am freakishly lucky considering where I started.

I’m doing my best. I wish my best were better.

I cancelled the painting event with the home school group. Apparently one family is going to come over to play anyway. That was a bit surprising to me today. We won’t be doing a huge art project. It’ll be lower key.

Part of my problem comes when I start expecting things. I expected to stay home alone tomorrow. So I’m surprised and thrilled that some folks are coming over. I only had to sort of off-handedly invite then. I invited them to a group event. Then cancelled the group event. Then they said, “We would love to come over even if we aren’t painting.”

I have flashes of awareness that I’m really not hated the way I fear I am. I’m not universally beloved or centered in peoples lives. That’s probably healthy or some shit.

am a polarizing figure. (Amusingly I just read a book called Dataclysm that talks about how polarizing people are more successful at dating. If folks are getting a 1-5 rating, I get a lot of 1s and a lot of 5s. I don’t get that many 3s.) I can understand why folks feel like they need to shove me away in order to be safe. I just…

I just have to advocate for me even though I’m a mixed bag. Or no one will. And I’ll die.

I’ll come back to gratitude. I can’t make everything work out. I feel disproportionate disappointment about things that I want and can’t make work out. But I have so much good. So many daily wonderful events.

I have a friends group so diverse and extensive that no one could truly deserve it. I’m just lucky. I’m a whiny piece of shit about people not wanting to do exactly what I want to do when I want to do it sometimes. I’m very obnoxious like that. I try to keep my whining/crying to my blog and my house. That’s as far as I’ve come with “boundaries”.

The kids say I have to stop typing now. They want to be on top of me.

I’m really glad for my life.