I'm done.

One of the dangers of being online is that you can have a meltdown in private and online. If you haven't noticed, my blog is just another venue for self-indulgent ranting. It was bad, but it felt oh, so good.

Hopefully you haven't found out that I'm secretly a terrible person. Oops - did I type that out loud?

Anyway, today is better. Not fabulous, but at least I'm not falling apart.

Torn.

Another day, another meltdown. Ever feel really guilty when you're mad, even if your upset is completely justifiable? That's exactly how I feel, which makes feeling this way even more uncomfortable.

I don't know if it's a woman thing or just a me thing, but I normally deal really well with the crap-ton of stuff that needs to be done around here, but I just lost it today for some reason. Maybe it's the dishwasher being broken, resulting in about four times the dishes I usually wash. It could be that my husband was planning to work all day - again - leaving me alone with children all day. Again. And he slept until 11 a.m., which pissed me off because I'm sick and I only got to sleep until 8 yesterday, even though that was the worst I've felt in a long time.

Which leads me to another possibility - it could be that I feel like hell from a cold. Or that everyone seems out of sorts, resulting in lots and lots of yelling and backtalk today, which results in consequences, which results in more backtalk, then tears when Ragsy realizes that, no, it's really not okay to throw things in the house. Or maybe it's knowing that we have a deadline to keep today since there's a party to go to and a gift to buy before.

I'm sure it's a combination. But I really, really lost it today and I feel very, very guilty. My husband announced that he's not going to work, which makes me feel additionally guilty. And I scared the crap out of the kids, which makes me feel even worse. But I still feel torn - did you know that I feel guilty? But another dirty little part of me feels a tad bit satisfied that I finally got my family's attention. Since I raise my voice so rarely, even Ragsy finds me losing it very, very memorable. The Borders incident a month or two ago gave me so much traction, Ragsy still uses it as an example of what could happen if he doesn't listen and I didn't even raise my voice above a whisper then.

Urgh. I hate this. I hate directing everyone sometimes - deciding when people will get up, what will get taken and where, what our plans are, what we're eating, where we're eating it and when. And who's going to which event and what the other person who's not going to the event will be doing. Today is a good example - there's a party at 4 p.m. For some reason, I'm supposed to decide what we're getting this kid (don't know him), what we're bringing it in, when we have to leave, who's going and what the other person who's NOT going will be doing? Then there are the questions: what are we doing? Why? When? Why? Where? Why? Why? Why? Why? And this isn't just from Ragsy.

And the thing is - I don't give a rat's ass. I really don't. So I'm torn: do I feel terribly guilty for flipping out and just suck it up and deal with it or do I hope to God something changes so I'm not somehow the boss?

Nightmare.

Work today was...rough. No interpersonal issues today (okay, some, but they were overshadowed). But given what I do, every day the importance of good healthcare is really hammered home. Today we had a suicidal caller. Given the fragile state many people are on by the time they file for SSDI, it's not uncommon where I work. People run out of money, can't pay their bills, can't go to the doctor, etc. Unfortunately, you kind of get used to people being in dire straits, especially people without long-term disability.

But today, all I can say is fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I know - bad language. But this person is in hell, about to lose everything she ever owned, all for want of decent healthcare.

Ain't life grand?

Waiting...

Until I had kids, I wasn't a type A personality. But my tendencies seem to have run amok with all the logistics that having children entails - getting up, showered, bags packed, kids fed and changed, etc. in time to leave in the morning, dropping kids off, talking to teachers if necessary, making a ridiculously long drive to Belleville to get to work (usually late), only to hurry home at the earliest opportunity at 5 or later to make dinner and start the slippery slope of evening routines. When something breaks my schedule, I get ticked. Which is why the past week has been especially painful.

Over the past week, my husband needed minor outpatient surgery. So I went (what - I'm selfish for complaining about it, but not so selfish I'd leave him on his own). Said surgery is in a location he cannot easily reach, and even if he could, he couldn't clean it thoroughly. So I do it twice a day, which again breaks into my carefully constructed schedule. It's also extremely painful for him since you're required to keep the wound open so it heals from the outside in and doesn't create another cyst.

Then there's the broken fridge, which requires daily trips to the supermarket for ice and fresh food (because I think I'm going to hurl if I eat much more takeout - I've certainly gained back two pounds). And now I'm waiting for the fridge repair guy to show up, which almost never turns out well. I'm hungry - since the fridge is broken, we haven't been keeping food overnight, and I've been giving the kids whatever healthy, fresh food we have - and so hopped up on caffeine I think I might explode. Which doesn't help my tension levels.

This isn't a big deal. I know this. And I should consider the quiet time I've had, both Wednesday while my husband slept after his cyst was removed and now while I wait, a gift. After all, when do I get to enjoy quiet, alone time? I could clean - I never get to do that without getting swarmed by children, and I actually enjoy cleaning up when I'm by myself. I could also work. At my job, since I create products that are used in a call center, I'm pretty much smack dab in the middle of a call center so I can hear what's going on. It's unusual and heavenly to have it quiet enough to read new legislation without having to put my fingers in my ears. What's getting to me, though, is that I know I should be somewhere else. This wasn't on my schedule, blast it.

And I keep going through what I need to do after the fridge is looked at. And what happens if it can't be fixed today? Then I'll probably have to do this all over again at some point this week, and dammit I still have some condiments in there that need to be tossed and it'll take forever to get to work if this guy ever gets here, and once I'm at work I've got a dozen meetings and an interview with a national publication if I can make it and what the hell are we going to do for dinner? Then there's the wound to clean, the kitchen is filthy and, bloody hell, when was the last time I worked out? *pant, pant, pant*

Did I mention that I hate waiting? The only thing I hate worse is schedule changes. I need a set schedule almost as much as my four year old.

Bad Mommy.

Ragsy has been trying to play me for several days now. It'd be really irritating if it weren't by turns funny and guilt inducing. Funny because he comes up with the most ridiculous requests to cure his crying and guilt inducing because it feels wrong to have to try not to laugh at someone who is crying, even if they're crocodile tears.

Case in point: two evenings in a row I've put him to bed. Both nights, just as I'm about to leave the room, copious crying ensues. I mean, he really worked himself up. But when I asked him what the problem was, his response was, "I want to go to the Pirate Festival!"

Ok. Normally I'd say yes, provided that going was convenient and the request made politely. After all, I like pirates as much as the next guy. Unfortunately, after an incident at Borders, the Pirate Festival has since been removed as an option. So, after quietly explaining to him that we can't go to the Pirate Festival, I made the mistake of asking, "Is there something else wrong?" After all, after I had to carry him screaming out of Borders, once I got him calm, I was able to draw out of him that he was hungry.

Silly me. So, crying ensues again. This time, "Yes, Mommy."

"What is it, sweetie? How can I help?"

"I also need to go to the zoo!"

Right.

"And I need to go to the India food shop (Taj Palace) and the Big Red Food Shop (Bread Company) for breakfast. Then we need to go to India."

Why do I even ask?

Awkward.

At work today I gave another presentation on healthcare reform and had an interview with the Wall Street Journal. And, no, I'm not particularly special - it was a transitional interview, so I really didn't do more than sit there and pass notes across the table to my boss, who was doing the talking. The idea is that I'll eventually take over all public speaking for our product - our VP has asked my boss to relinquish all media interviews to me, so I sat on this one with our PR director and observed, I'll do the talking next time and after that, it'll be just me and the PR director.

The whole situation is really odd and uncomfortable, but apparently while I was on maternity leave and my boss gave interviews to certain well-known publications, he let some of his ignorance and political views seep into the discussions, so he was barred from interviewing without me, the PR director or both to serve as chaperon until I received more formal media training to take over the interviews entirely. I was also given three of his speaking engagements for next month and October and asked to attend the AARP conference to exhibit. I don't know what to make of this. I'm flattered, but it's weird and I don't like it.

Long time, no write.

I need to get my act together again. I'm gaining weight, falling back into disorganization and not writing again. It's funny how when one area of discipline falls apart, the rest follows in short order. I don't think it's about to get any better in the next few days. Evelyn has a sore throat, complete with oogey red tonsils. It doesn't look like strep, though.

One thing I have to wonder about sick babies - why is having an illness akin to feeding them rocket fuel? They wake every 30 minutes at night, won't nap during the day, yet somehow are cheerful and can run circles around their parents despite having a relatively high fever. I'm exhausted and, though she has the runs from all the mucous and won't stop rubbing her eyes, every time I try to put her to sleep, she starts playing with my breast, eating my arm or trying to climb out of her crib. How is she not at least crabby as hell? Not that I'm complaining. Ugh. I'm jittery from all the coffee, but think I need more caffeine to stay awake.

Love, luck and blight.

My sister called a few days ago, asking all kinds of questions about how I'd felt and what happened when I was pregnant, when I asked if she was pregnant. There was total silence on the other end of the phone. I was so happy for her. Unfortunately, just a few days can change everything. She is in the throes of a miscarriage now. Her gestational sac was empty, something they also call a blighted ovum. Interesting choice of words. Blight. It's a much larger word than the object it describes. Her pregnancy hormones are falling and she now has to take Plan B or have a D&C to flush her uterus. She has chosen Plan B.

I have no idea how to describe how awful I feel for her. During Christmas, she held Evelyn and cried because she said she didn't know when she'd be able to have a baby herself. There was no end in sight - her husband hadn't been employed in more than two years, they had student loans to pay and a mortgage and she was trapped in a job she hated because she was carrying everything financially and had been for two years.

Then, like magic, things began to come together over the last six weeks. Her husband got a job, which allowed them to feel comfortable starting a family. She discovered she was pregnant, got a new job and quit her old one. Then the part that meant the most to her was taken away.

I know miscarriages are very common in early pregnancy and that she will probably go on to have a healthy pregnancy. And if she was only five or six weeks into the pregnancy, but still. It represented a lot to her and now it's gone. And it sucks.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I totally forgot how much this part of motherhood sucks. Our daughter just got tooth #2. With it apparently comes a remarkable desire not to sleep. It's not only pain (only from the shrieking in there, it's probably partially pain) - it's also that switch that went off in her head that prompted her to wake me at 3 a.m. to have a three-hour long attempt at a discussion. Sadly, I haven't slept since.

What's worse for me, though, is the guilt. Yeah, I really can't do anything than give Tylenol to make the tooth feel better. But, the muscles in my back are aching, burning and just generally not in the right places. I had to hand her off to my husband for a few minutes. My husband, lucky man, doesn't have the same visceral reaction I do to my daughter's crying. I want to find what's causing it and obliterate it. He calmly puts on some muting headphones (he can hear her, but it's not as piercing) and carries her around until she's done crying and ready to sleep. Unfortunately for me, she cries a lot more with him.

So, while I'm out here feeling miserable, guilty, exhausted, frustrated and sore, I'm also treated to her shrieking, something I know I could alleviate just by walking in there and taking her from my husband. Seriously, I pick her up and it's like someone hit the off switch. God, I hate this. It's even worse knowing Ragsy is probably laying in bed with his hands clamped over his ears.

I know I should let the two of them figure it out. After all, it's not like I left her all alone. Someone who loves her is carrying her and quietly talking to her. Ugh. How sad is it that I'm trying to rationalize taking a much-needed break to avoid screaming myself and scaring the daylights out of a baby and setting a stellar example for my son? Oh, well. I hope she stops crying soon. I'm tired, sore, have an incredibly bad headache and I think my blood pressure is probably sky high by now.

Long time, no write.

It's not that nothing interesting has happened to me. It has. I just forget what it was by the time I go to make a blog post, so I haven't written in a long, long time. But, since I'm rapidly forgetting how to string two sentences together, I thought I'd write.

Not much is going on. Like I said, I forgot all the interesting stuff than happened to me. At the moment, the worst thing that's happened this week is that Ragsy's been a bit out of sorts and there's been a tuition hike at preschool & daycare. Fantabulous. I love having children, but they're so freaking expensive.

The best thing that has happened this week is that I was asked to serve as an expert on healthcare reform for two magazines who found a white paper I wrote for my company on managing retiree healthcare costs. But this is a mixed bag. I'm still waiting for people to realize that I'm not an expert. I'm just some chump who read all 2500 pages of the healthcare reform bill and was fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to retain some of it. Oh, well. At least I get the credit for these.

Other than that, I'm still completely sleep deprived and feel a slight malaise (that only the genius possess and the insane lament). You know how you've achieved one goal, then you're in between goals? Yeah - that's about where I am. Both Adit and I are pretty sure we're done having children, so we're both struggling with ideas on what we do now. Of course - raise the kids. But what else? We'd both like to be rich. Wouldn't everyone? But how do you do that? And is what we would have to do something we'd be willing or even interested in doing? And if we decide not to do that, then what?

Ugh, anyway. So tired. Too bad Evelyn woke up three times last night. I was up way too frequently for my well being. Thank goodness she's begun to eat some solids. She still eats every hour and a half during the day (even with a meal in the middle of the day and the evening), but she's finally accepting something that's not me. Cereal of any sort really hurts her stomach, but the fruits & veggies are finally starting to have some appeal. I swear, by the time she's actually eating solids reliably, she'll be on finger foods. Not that that's a bad thing. So far when she does eat solids, she eats what we do anyway, so she's usually a cheap date.