I’m ranting and raving this morning. I’m being a fucking asshole. Youngest Child is feeling fussy and particular and I’m… not being nice. I’m trying to vacuum the house, cause folks are coming over and my house is gross. And the kids are standing around watching me or fighting instead of picking up their stuff so I’m yelling. This sucks.
So I’m coming out to the garage cause it’s only 9am and I’m not ok.
I’m kinda sick of “Pick up the floor” being interpreted as “Move one or two big things and pick up none of the little things.”
I can’t vacuum up all these beads, bracelets, slippers, play money, pencils, and hair bands. Pick.Them.Up.
I’m such a mom.
And today I’m an asshole mom.
I keep wondering why it is so important that I get off the medication that works and has a very low side effect profile so that I can get on something that doesn’t work, makes me sick, and has a ridiculous side effect profile of damaging my brain forever.
Because it is illegal in many places, that’s why.
I had dinner with a friend last night and she really wanted to help me brainstorm how to sneak pot on my trip. I finally yelled, “I have no interest in ending up in a Caribbean fucking prison can we change the god damn subject!”
She meant well.
Cannabis is not more legal if it is in a pill or a brownie or oil.
I have now smoked my first bowl of the day. Do I feel better yet? Not really. Sad face. If one bowl could do it, I’d feel ok with my usage during pregnancy.
Ok, I got up and walked around the house and finished vacuuming since the kids finished. Maybe this is more impact than I think. I think that means one more will be enough. That’s not bad for me.
And frankly… the kids actually didn’t take that long. They needed four reminders, but… I think that’s the same kind of lack of spatial awareness their dad has.
Their dad can’t find things in the refrigerator. Even if it is on the right shelf if it isn’t in the exact quadrant he expects. This happened again like a week ago. Literally, it was 5″ from where he expected it to be and he couldn’t find it.
So maybe my kids come by it honestly.
This is what I like about pot. I go from “WHY THE FUCK ISN’T THIS DONE?!?!?!?!?!?!111111” to “Ok, you missed a few things but you are making progress. Well done.”
Anti-psychotics don’t make me feel this way.
I feel sad that I have to hurt myself in order to hopefully stop feeling like I can stop hurting myself.
I got almost nine hours of sleep. I declare allergy medication to be a miracle. I think I’m going to ask for allergy testing. I am pretty sure… I have allergies. Like whoa. All of a sudden I can breathe. I’m not even waking up to pee until 8 hours of sleep. That’s a miracle.
Noah is going to take the kids to martial arts. I’m going to stay home and clean. Maybe it will help my cranky. I feel so cranky in a messy house. Messy houses = work waiting to crash on my head. I dislike messy. It makes me anxious. It’s like having 100 unread emails in my inbox. That’s overwhelming. Have I mentioned that my whole house is messy because of the remodel and it has been since February and I’m about to lose my mind?
But! The plan revision is finally appropriate and at the city. Once I get it back I can submit the new contractors information to the city and start work again. Right as we are leaving. So really it should wait till we get back. *beat head on ground*
September 12th will hopefully be the start date then. And I get to pray it is done by Christmas. I hope that means the roof will be finished in September. I will have to consult with the contractor and the roofer. I hope the roofing can start on September 26th. I sent an email to that effect. To both folks.
Oh boy. Being a grown up is lame.
Second bowl is done. I feel… better but not good. Sigh. I’m going to go do more cleaning. Meh. Fuss. Whine. Folks are coming over in two hours.
I have way more thoughts about my leaky bucket. But my house won’t clean itself.