I had the Queen of All Sore Throats last week, and couldn't figure out why it wouldn't go away no matter how much I poured boiling hot chamomille tea down it. No matter how much I gargled with baking soda and salt. No matter how much I napped. Over the weekend, I found out why. Laryngitis. Laryn-freaking-gitis. It hurts to talk even in a whisper. Although for some reason, the kids are listening to me and being better behaved while I can't raise my voice, let alone yell. I may have to keep up the quiet voice for a while.
My back hurts and I threw out my inner hip joint falling over a rolly car toy and slipping down into a split. Yes, a real split. I've never been flexible enough for a split, even in my limber days. Ouch and holy hell. I'm 32 but right now, I feel like I'm in my 70's.
My MIL is a controlling biotch. She's not the kindest, most loving person when she expresses herself. You really have to view her actions rather than listen to her words. She really, honestly loves us, although I have always felt that she doesn't think I'm good enough at anything for her son. She thinks that just because she's lending us $500 that it means she can criticize my housekeeping (or lack thereof). Since the infamous phone call, she regularly asks DH about my housekeeping and if I'm angry with her. In addition to all of my other faults that she so callously has expressed to me, she also thinks that just because we're short on cash that we shouldn't have birthday parties for our children EVEN IF I only serve cake (from scratch), pretzels, chips, and homemade Snapple tea. She loves me and my kids, but lady, butt out. Grace has been planning her 4th birthday party for the last 3 months, and it's the first time my little Frou Frou has voiced plans for the future and done so very clearly. Frou Frou is turning 4 yrs old on the 27th, and she's my sensitive, shy, anxious one... who is old enough to know when her sisters have something she doesn't. She's old enough to feel left out. She's old enough to compare birthday parties, and ask why Juliana had one for hers and she doesn't get one. I do NOT want her ending up in therapy in 20 years because she fell into the hole of Middle Child Syndrome. Let her go to therapy for anything else, but not Middle Child Syndrome.
Nope, not gonna happen. I may have to cut back on spending for the party, but really you don't have to spend a lot of money to have a nice party for a little girl and to get her a gift that she'll love.
That said, I'm sick of being broke. I'm sick of living paycheck to paycheck, although I can handle it. We were pretty poor growing up but never wonted for anything, and neither to my children. We've been lucky to receive some gently loved hand-me-downs from friends, as well as brand new clothes as gifts for birthdays and holidays so our girls are all well-dressed. Even when the pantry is virtually empty, their bellies are always full. Right now, we're in enough of a spot because of having the extra bill of gas for heating and the reduction of DH's hours at Lowe's that this SAHM is filling out job applications to try to help out financially, but I'm also trying to start my own business. I haven't forgotten about that, and in fact I'm trying to come up with a brochure for it. I also have to figure out a "starting budget" but we did agree that my new credit card would be used solely for the "In A Pinch" purchases, and any profits would first pay that off, and then be saved in a new savings account for use as needed for bills. So that dream is getting closer, we just have to make the leap.
My weight loss is stuck at the 20 lb mark. I'm down 20 since April, trying to lose another 75 or so, but I'm stuck. Someone tell me it's not because of raiding the Halloween bags OK that's all for now.
You know, I really think I bitch about DH far too often. I've been so sick over the last week and he's been so understanding about it. Since our last "discussion" about my household duties and his expectations of me and how I feel about that, he's been more understanding. Basically, I explained how I could do 75% of the housework that needs to be done, but all he sees is the 25% that's left to be done and he'd complain about it as if I hadn't done anything at all. That if I do something, it "could be better" or I should have "prioritized differently." It was a losing battle for me. I think something I said finally clicked with him. Thankfully, especially since I've been feeling like such crap. I love him. I really do. I read about how so many men don't care about their responsibilities and they go out partying as if they had no other cares in the world. How they criticize their wives for asking them to be home more often and spend time with the family rather than go out to a bar with friends to "wind down." Wind down, dude, just do it with your wife and mutual friends!
Whew. That was cathartic.
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