gotta give Him props

After my last blog,  I realized that all I have been doing is complaining and whining or verbalizing how crazy my life is.  And now, I feel convicted to give a shout out to my Savior.  I am always so concerned about getting stupid life inconveniences off my chest when I really should be getting those things off my chest by taking them to my God... not blogging about it.  He has done some amazing things in my life and I am so thankful for such a loving, gracious and merciful God.  Life sucks... I suck... but He loves me anyway.  My Dad once made a comment that I have now stolen and I use it all the time... "God made me.  He knows how dumb I am."  I love that!  I have been a Christian for most of my life.  But, I have been a Follower of Jesus for just a few years.... and YES, there is a difference.  I love that I can be totally me, screw ups and all, and he just opens His arms to me and loves me no matter what.  What parent can say that about their children?  I know I can't.  I wish I could, but there are times when my kids screw up and it makes me sooo mad and it's hard to love them unconditionally.  It's hard to love anyone unconditionally.  But my Lord loves me unconditionally.  He loves me when I'm having a bad hair day, when I am PMSing something fierce, when I make the worst decisions ever- and then I make the same mistakes again... and again.  He loves me when I fail and when I succeed.  He loves me when I am at my most unlovable.   He loves me when I feel like my world is crumbling around me and I feel like I am totally alone.  But then He quietly whispers that I am not alone and I need to call out to Him.  He'll be my rock, my foundation, my guardian, my steadfast support.  He loves me when I turn my back on Him and then accepts me back with no questions asked.  Seriously... I question why He would do that ALL the time... but I accept that He does and I am so thankful.

I don't know if this makes sense or if it sounds incredibly childlike... but I don't care... cause He loves me anyway.

dysfunctional mie

so, I'm just going to type and hopefully it will all make sense.  Well, maybe it won't make "sense," but grammatically speaking, it will.  It's 5:21am on Monday morning.  I was asleep but was awakened by the little boy sleeping down the hall.  He was wet and a bit hungry so I got myself out of bed, changed him and gave him a bottle.  He's asleep now.  I am not.

I'm finding myself heading down a slippery slope the last few weeks.  Some of my friends know this about me, but I tend to not advertise the fact, so a lot of people don't know.  Well, i guess I'm gonna blow the whole secret right now... I kinda have to in order for me to get back to a good place.  I was diagnosed with manic depression and OCD after Maya was born.  I had actually dealt with it for 4 years prior to her birth, but that was when I was diagnosed.  I'd rather not get into specifics about what happened, what I did, how I felt, because I struggle with it everyday and am trying to forget.  I'm usually ok... and if I'm not ok, I can hide it.  I'm good at hiding it.  I think there is only one person who I can't hide it from... no, strike that... there are two people who I can't hide it from.  First one is God.  He made me... He knows me inside and out... better than I know myself.  And the crazy thing about that is that He still loves me.  With all of my stupid habits, bad decisions, crazy thoughts, self loathing... He loves me like no one else could ever possibly love another person.  What a concept to have to try and wrap around your brain.  

The second of those people is my amazing husband.  As I was writing all of this, he was getting ready for work.  He always comes to say goodbye before he leaves the house.. it's our thing.  He comes in the bedroom, wakes me up, kisses me and tells me he loves me.  I usually mumble something that sounds like I love you and be careful.  He won't leave the house until I tell him that.  "I love you and be careful."  Such a simple way to start the day...  It's one of those habits that makes my heart flutter:)  Anyway, because I am wide awake, our morning routine was extended a little bit.  As he sat on my bed, and tears roll down my face, he always knows what to say to snap me out of my mood.  He knows just the right time to deliver the dumbest joke or the silliest suggestion (today was a suggestion to play potty races).  I know that he doesn't understand what goes on in my head and sometimes I don't think he tries to.  sometimes I wish he would, just so he could understand what I go through, but for the majority of the time I'm glad he doesn't.  It's not a good place to be and he doesn't need to have that kind of weight on his shoulders.  So, I struggle alone.  With the exception of today, as I blog my way through it. 

I don't talk about this at all.  Mainly because I feel like someone will try and fix me.   I tried to discuss this once with someone and I was told that I have to control it.  I have the ability to control it.  So let me ask you a question, if I could control something like this on my own, why would I struggle and cry and willingly and knowingly put myself through hell if I could make it go away?  That doesn't make sense.  At all.  I'm not all that bad right now... thankfully.  But it's starting and I don't know what sets it off.  Thankfully, it's not as bas as it could be... i don't feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin, or rip my head off because sound is so loud.   We watched a movie the other night call Rachel Getting Married.  It's not a feel good movie... but i thought it was really good.  Kym is the main character and she struggles with addiction.  It takes her through a weekend when she gets out of rehab, goes home to a house full of guests, he sister getting married and the drama of it all.  I knew what she felt like.  At one point in the movie, she is so desperate and so emotional, she drives full speed into the wooded part of a fork in the road and hits a tree.  I've been there.  I haven't actually driven my car full speed into a tree, but I have thought about it many many times.  I know the cry that she cries.  I know the loneliness and the desperation that she feels.  It sucks.

Mike didn't like the movie.  I kinda knew that was going to happen even before we started it.   But I sooo needed to see it.  I needed to feel like I wasn't the only one that felt that way at times... and  I realize that it was a fictional movie, but it helped.  I saw a lot of myself in Kym.  And it made me start to reevaluate things.  It made me want to work out some things that go on in my mind.  I want those things to go away.  I don't want to feel useless, or worthless, or angry, or weak.  I don't want to be so sensitive to people's comments or actions.  I take everything personally...   the list goes on.

I have a headache now... so I am going to stop this blog and go try to sleep.  Hopefully when I wake up, I'll be refreshed and clear headed...  

i hate money

If the saying "money makes the world go round" is true, then the world needs to stop and I want to get off.  Now.

I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place right now.  I'm sure after my little vent, I'll have someone misunderstand what I am trying to say and tell me how stupid I am to not realize what a blessing my life is.  So, I'm gonna be one step ahead of them and say I already know.  I know how stinkin' blessed I am with my life.  I know how blessed I am to have a husband who works his butt off so I can stay home and raise the kids.  I know this.  However, being as blessed as I am, I am equally as insane.  Or I'm on the short path to the insane asylum.  Pretty sure they have a room just for me.  It's probably round and I'd try to sit in the corner.

Anyway, no, I wouldn't change my life for anything.  And, yes, I am incredibly thankful for the chance to stay home and mold my children's minds, however, molding minds can take money and we don't have any.  I'm sure it comes as a huge surprise to anyone who knows us... we have no money.  Shocker.  Mike and I are THE WORST savers ever to walk this planet.  We have tried over and over again in the 11 years of marriage to get a hold of this money situation... but it never works.  So, here I sit, wanting to actually get out of the house and not have to plan my grocery trips around payday and have to write a check because payday isn't until Tuesday and Giant takes forever to cash checks (which gives us some wiggle room... and the opportunity to eat).  So here's the crazy part.  I want to go get a job.  **GASP**  I need one.  Well, I guess technically I dont' NEED one... we can pay our bills and eat most of the time... but life would be a lot more fun if I did.  

I hate not being able to go out of the house and do something with the kids.  Vacation was cancelled this year because our checking account wasn't tended to like it was supposed to be and a check that was written 2 months prior cleared... and it was a biggin'.  So, we had to drain our measly savings account to make up for the lack in funds in the checking account (we don't keep a check register or reconcile our account.  We just watch it on the computer screen from the bank website).  Keep your opinions to yourself... we already know.  We've said it all to ourselves.  Anyway, since the savings was drained, there is no money to pay for our house that we rented (and lost the security deposit from :(  ).  *sigh*  Not only is vacation cancelled, but we can't go to Knoebels or Philadelphia or a museum or the movies or even miniature golf because we have no money.  The whole thing makes me mad and absolutely INSANE!  Please be advised, I have now taken over the checking account and will be keeping track of all spending and reconciling as not to help the crazytrain along.

I'm tired of having money issues.  So, I am going to apply for a job.  I hate the fact that a million people would love to be able to stay at home and not have to work, but I have to do something to help this situation along.  Sadly, I am not really skilled for anything... I have a manicuring license, but no one is hiring just a nail tech... they're being selfish and want a hair stylist too.  I guess retail always works... hopefully I'll seem fun, responsible and quirky enough to sell their wares.  My husband does not want me to work.  He wants me to stay at home.  But the moment I withdrawal money from the account, I get the third degree about why I took it, what I did with it, where did it go, ect.  I don't question him.  And I don't want to be questioned anymore.  I'm 32.  If I want to take $60 out of the ATM... I want to be able to do it and not have to answer to someone about it.  I usually have no problem answering to him and I do it willingly.  But I'm getting a little tired of the money thing.

watching paint dry

Our exchange student is  arriving tomorrow evening.  We've been anticipating her arrival for a few weeks now and I have tried to prepare the house for her.  There are two problems with that.  One, I am a procrastinator.  Two, I am a perfectionist.  When you do the mathematical equation putting one and two together, it equals disaster.  I have a strong desire to be the hostess with the mostest.  It's the Monica Gellar Syndrome (and all of my fellow 'Friends' fans will understand that).  I can't just let well enough alone.  No, I have to go above and beyond what a normal person would deem acceptable and miraculously transform a guest room into a palace.  So, this morning as I am cleaning out and rearranging the guest room I have this marvelous idea.  Not only is it 8am the morning before she arrives, it's also the perfect time to paint the room.  This is me as well... spontaneous and flying by the seat of my pants.  I managed to have one glimmer of a second in which I am thinking clearly and try to talk myself out of getting into such a project, but the insane part of my brain takes over (which for the record is about 97% of my brain) and I decide that I am going to paint today.

So, off I trot into the garage hoping that there is some paint stored and that there is enough to paint an entire room... a small room, but an entire room.  Luckily for me, there was!  So there I go back into the room with stuff strewn all over and I proceed to paint.  I don't move things out of a room when I paint.  I paint around them.  In my illogical brain, that makes the most sense.  Why empty a room when it all has to go back in anyway? So now I am climbing on beds, squeezing in between walls and sliding chairs into the tiniest of spaces, all for the sake of a beautiful room.

I am so ridiculously stupid.

While I sit here taking a break and waiting for the paint to dry, I wonder if I can take this decision back and stop the painting.  I guess it's too late.

Mommy's not here anymore. Please leave a message at the sound of the beep...

It's one of those days where I am seriously contemplating packing up my kids, driving to the courthouse and changing my name.  I'm fairly certain that at some point during my hospital stays when delivering my children, some sneaky nurse came in and coyly had me sign a paper stating that I will never be "Jaimie" again.  I will only be "mommy".  I remember the days of the kids starting to talk and babble.  It was music to my ears.  And then came the day I was waiting for... the day they said Mommy (mama, mommy, ma, I'd pretty much take anything that remotely sounded like the correct word).  Fast forward 9 (or 7) years and sometimes I'd like them to forget my name.

Today is one of those days that the sound of "MOMMY" being yelled throughout the house sends shivers up my spine and blood pouring from my ears.  Ok, so maybe not the blood part... but it sure seems like it.  There are different tones in which an offspring of mine can call my name and I can usually tell what's behind the need.  There's the "I really need your help with something that I can't do by myself" call.  The "I'm bored please make balloon animals for me" call.  The "I've fallen and have a tiny scratch, but from my angle my limb is dangling from my body" call.  And my absolute favorite, the 'Why did you ruin my life by giving me a sibling who is the most annoying person on the planet and I hate them" call.  I get the last one the most.

My oldest children are the best of friends and the worst of enemies... which I know is the case with a lot of siblings... me and my brother included.  I know what it's like on the other side of the tunnel and I wish I could get those kids to realize what they have and just love each other with everything they've got.  I know that's not gonna happen, but I can wish.  It seems to me that they try to find the tiniest most insignificant thing that irritates them about their sibling and then they give me the shout out telling me what bugs them about so and so.  

We can't get into the car and leave our home without the biggest disagreement on who sits where and who's in the front or back or whatever.  Now for those who don't know, once upon a time I had a cute little Pontiac Vibe.  We had to up-size our vehicle when our youngest child was born... and it was a necessity.  We managed to squeeze the three kids into the back... strategically.  One had to go in first, get buckled and then the other two would get in as well.  And while the sardines were squished into the back seat, the older two ALWAYS fought.  "He's touching me... She's touching me... He took my _____.  She hit me".  It was never ending.  So, being the brilliant parents that Mike and I are, we decided to go for the all purpose minivan.  Two separate rows of seats, they couldn't possibly find something to fight about.  Yeah, right.  We still hear the same fights over and over, but now we added the "who sat in the front (of the rear) seat last". 

So between the car issues everyday and then coming in the house and hearing "MOOOMMMEEEY" I'm ready to check in the padded cell or go into the Witness Protection Program... or the Mommy Protection Program as the case may be.

As as I finish this, there is a beautiful but deafening silence in the house... that can't be a good thing.