But this isn't new. Earlier this year I wrote a post called The Truth About Lydia that chronicled some of the schmidt that seems to define my life and my total inability to cope with it. I have written a couple of other posts about how I am an unfit mother, how I am prone to breakdowns, and how I tend to have really bad mornings that turn into totally sucktastic days. I also had a whole series of posts that were supposed to document my journey towards self improvement (both in terms of my ass, my hair, and my house) because 2010 was going to be MY YEAR.
But guess what? It's September. Soon the leaves will fall and then it will be Halloween. Then I'll blink and it will be the Holidays and then the year will be over and what will have changed? Nothing. I'm still a giant boobstain. In yoga pants that are the exact same size. I still yell at my kids and then feel awful about it. I still rush around every morning having conniption fits because we are running so effing late. I still suck.
So here is the real unvarnished truth about Lydia - part deux:
- I start everything and finish nothing. The laundry, the 400 scarves I have tried to knit that are only six inches long because they're taking too long, my son's baby book, the diet, the daily exercising, pretty much anything good for me...
- I average less than seven showers per week. At the beginning of the year it was five and now its more like six. Nice. Especially when you consider that on some days the only time I can take a shower is right before bedtime so I'm nice and fresh for about twenty minutes and then I fall asleep. And by the morning? The sleep dirt has made me all grubby and Lydia-y again.
- If I show up somewhere and I'm clean, everyone is like: "Wow! Lydia, you look awesome!" And I'm all: "Yes. That's because I bathed."'
- My youngest will be two in a couple of months and she still doesn't consistently sleep through the night. Maybe once or twice a week she does. The nights when I can sleep are amazing but they make the nights I can't that much worse. Maude help me. I had no idea it would go on this long and it has not helped my Hair Trigger Bitch Syndrome (HTBS).
- I'm way too hard on my daughter Thumbelina because she is my first born and she's a girl and of all my kids, she is the most like me. And the older she gets, the more I become aware that this perfect and lovely little person is going to turn out just like me and that is a total parenting failure. Why can't she be more like her father? Because he's awesome. I can't believe I just said that.
- Every meaningful adult interaction seems to end up becoming a conversation about me because I'm horrible. Would you like an example? Someone says: "I'm so tired." and then I say: "So am I! You have no idea because the baby still isn't sleeping and last night I had orange juice after dinner because I think I'm getting a cold but something about the acid in it gave me funny dreams and hey why are you walking away? Crap, I did it again."
- My littlest girl is completely obsessed with feminine hygiene products. Ask Kate, she'll tell you. If you show my baby a tampon, she gasps with joy, jumps up and down clapping and then says: "OOOHHHHH! I want dat! I want dat POP!" Then throws a tantrum when she's not allowed to unwrap one and shoot it out with the applicator and then carry it around by the string.
- My cat is bulimic and I am so over cleaning it up. If it's in the guest room or someplace I don't have to look at it, then I don't always get around to cleaning it right away and that's just gross. I need help.
- I think the cat may also have a death wish or maybe he just wishes that I was dead because he is forever writhing around my ankles in the dark or on the stairs and seriously, a neck-breaking fall is imminent. I have no idea which one of us will survive but I'm guessing him. Because even though he's really old I'm pretty sure he has more than one life left.
- I screamed at Hawk yesterday for wiping away his baby sister's tears. Yah. I know. I thought he'd made her cry because he'd been putting his hands all over her face and she hates that. In fact, she'd bonked herself and he was comforting her. Mom of the Year! Me and Dina Lohan tied again!
- Thumbelina is a litigator in training. Every conversation with her is a negotiation. Or an interrogation. And I can't win. And I think she may end up as either Miss Alabama or a Blackwater mercenary for hire. Possibly both.
- I don't need anything else to feel guilty about. Not one more thing. I wear my guilt like its a backpack filled with chemistry text books that I can never take off.
- I have had the laundry completely done and the house clean twice in the past year. And that was to my standards - it was not Aunt Mary clean or anything. There are people who have that knocked out every single week by the time the kids come home from school on Monday. How. Do. They. Even. Do. That?
- I think I hear about half of what people say to me. Because my mind is constantly buzzing with all the things I should be doing and haven't done and thought were funny and did I return that email? Maybe my mind isn't as full of buzzy, drunken bees as say... Offspring #1. But that's not saying much. I need to focus. Clear my head. Maybe do some yoga. Wait, did I schedule a parent teacher conference? Crap. What were you saying?
- I just looked at the calendar. Kate may be right. Sorry about calling you a whore earlier. No I'm not.
- Awesome. So now I'm just subject to the whims of hormonal imbalances. I'm not even crazy like a normal person. That's just perfect.
- Thank Maude for Kate because she totally gets that I suck and still likes me anyway. And knows that even though I am the worst mother in the world, at least I'm trying. And she always forgives me for my freak-outs and break-downs because she actually values me as more than the person that makes food, drives to t-ball and finds lost binkies.
(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2010