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Oh, things are a mess. A big, sloppy mess. And I’m stuck holding the mop yet again. (Holy bad writing. I’m like freshman year creative writing.) It’s not even one thing I can pin down. It’s everything I touch, everything I see, everywhere I go. I have so much to do and all I can do is just sit here and stare into my monitor, not even seeing anything. I couldn’t tell you what I’m even doing right now. I just opened up a file and zoned out looking at the top piece of paper for like fifteen minutes. And they pay me for this. Nothing holds my attention. I get home after work and plop into a lawn chair and watch the boys play. If they ask me to push them on the swings it takes a huge effort to get up and do it. I feel bad, like I’m depriving them of a real mother and instead they got this weird one with empty eyes and a low, monotone voice. At least I’ve stopped screaming at them, but this is the polar opposite and that’s not what I want either. I haven’t done laundry in weeks. My poor kids. My poor husband. This is exactly what I don’t need to do. I can’t let it suck me in because I know good and well that it is stronger than I am. (For the record, the phrase “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” has always angered me. In my life, what hasn’t killed me hasn’t killed me, but rather chipped off little pieces of who I am. I can’t be stronger if I’m so obviously flawed.) I’ve been good the last few days: taking the boys to ride the train just for fun, bringing Lukas to see my brother play softball, going to the F0xhole last night with Danielle. But I had to force myself to do those things. Each time I considered calling the whole thing off and curling up in bed at seven p.m. But I didn’t, and that’s progress. Fuck. I just realized I forgot to have the kids brush their teeth this morning. See? I’m a mess. I sent them to daycare with bad breath and tangled hair. I’m so lucky that they are such good kids. They are always hugging me and climbing onto my lap, saying, “I want to cuddle with you, Mommy.” Awww. I guess they are too young to see me for what I really am. Ugh. I probably won’t even post this. Kids are: Stupid turned it off because she couldn't hear on the phone. Last person who pissed me off: Stupid. (We have nicknames for everyone here. Stupid, Crackhead, Crazy, Bitch...creative, I know.) Heard in my house: "I can't go poop in the potty. Then my diaper would be sad." Miss Anything? It's a boy! - 2006-12-12
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