Thursday, May 21st 2015

Somehow in spite of ALL the therapy and training and mental health exercises and meds, I still get tangled in knots of angst and discomposure over the kids.  Big surprise right?  (And did you even know that was a *word*?  I didn’t, yet there it was, precisely when I reached for it.)

Take for example yesterday’s rant.  Or getting to school this morning.  To wit:  When either or BOTH parties you chauffeur don’t feel like putting on SHOES… it can inspire a certain  …ennui.

So after implementing a smattering of Dialectical Behavior Therapy tools (stepping back, cooling off, breathing mindfully; avoiding breakdown but still arriving *ANNOYED*),
I propose the kids take them damn-SELVES into school, instead of me.

And lo;

They’re like:  “OK Mom.”

They slay me.  Melt me.  Drive me crazy.  Then be kind to each other?  I’m like:

!?!

I keep staring:

Really

And Boy left me this note:

OK Good to Know

*sigh*

A Yummy Mummy I’ll never be.  Horrific nails and all, I got a Workin’ Girl’s hands.  And I wouldn’t trade my crappy nails and Sharpie’d love note for pampered hands, no matter how FREAKING enticing that sounds right now.   I’m sure I’d polish my nails ONCE in a while, if I could just figure out how to do it without sacrificing the use of my hands for even one tiny moment.

But I digress.   Comme toujours.

Oh yeah and by the way; Louis CK SHOES [57 secs]: