hurumph.

Back in high school, I had an English teacher who gave us an assignment of writing as many things we love as we could in 10 minutes.  I was having a really crummy day and I couldn’t do it.  I just sat there crying, unable to think of a happy single thing.  My wonderful teacher quietly put her arm around me and told me not to worry about it - and to make my list of things I hated.  It was so thoughtful and helpful.  Once I got all that out, I felt better and made a happier list lickety split.  

I don’t have a ton of things to complain about, I just feel a little crabby.  Sometimes you get tired of smiling and nodding and want to complain.  Feel free to ignore the rest of this post, and if you go ahead and read it, know that this is not directed at anyone.  I mean it.  Nobody gets to be mad or justify their own crazy, it’s my turn today :)

I finally got an appointment for the Dude to get his hair cut.  The very first one.  I will probably be kneeling on the floor, catching his blond curls and sobbing.

I, on the other hand, have “bangs” that are BELOW my chin.  But finding the time to go and people to watch the kids is… impossible,  Really, exhausting.  I’m using up all the karma I can get just to find daytime sitters so I can make simple doctor’s appoinments.  (and no, I know the next thing you’re thinking is that it’s because I’m knocked up, and NO.  I’m not.  Totally unrelated stuff.)

Take today.  We all know how how strongly I feel about story time at the library.  It is the second most essential thing to do in the week, just under church.  Really.  And we have the awesomest librarian ever.  So even though it’s during the Dude’s morning naptime (which I’m starting to thing he will never give up.  Seriously, why won’t he give it up??) I go anyway because I don’t want WonderGirl to miss out.  And she loves it.  But the Dude is getting worse.  Today he spent the last 15 minutes screaming at the top of his lungs.  I feel like a slave to my house.  We wake up, get ready of our day, then he goes to sleep.  Then I have 2, maybe 3 hours to rush out when he wakes up and try and get anything accomplished, and then I have to sit at home for 2-3 hours while he takes his afternoon nap.  Then it’s getting ready for dinner and all that jazz.  I don’t mind the time off, but I do mind that I’m just sitting here when there are things out there I’d really like to/need to do.  I need a nanny to do nothing but sit at my house while I take the other kid out and breathe the fresh air of freeeedom.

I try to be open-minded and kind to all of God’s creatures.  But really.. I can be petty.  About what?  Music.  Specifically, anything I deem awful.  And if someone disagrees, I get seriously immature and my brain starts screaming YOU DARE TO QUESTION ME??!!!  ME??!!  I HAVE A MASTER’S DEGREE IN MUSIC.  MUSIC!!!!  I know.  But really… and I mean no offense to anyone out there… but if you are willing to listen to country music without getting physically ill, you are a better person than me.  Just thinking about it is making me throw up a little.  And anyone willing to sit through an entire piece of Brahms’ chamber music (too.many.themes).  I do try to be nice.  But somehow I feel entitled.  A LOT of money was spent on my credentials to have an opinion. 

Also, on traits I don’t get are (and I mean this in the nicest way possible) animal lovers, runners, sports fans, anyone selling something in a pyramid scheme, anyone who can stomach the plot lines on Glee, know-it-alls (I know, ironic), killjoys, and most of all - people who use apostrophes where they have no business being (Even Nie.  There, I said it.  I love her, but for the love of Pete, get the girl some English classes).

Phew.   I feel a little better.