Letters of Intent, Oct 22/09

Letters of Intent, by Julie @ Foursons. Who chewed all the pencils? Not me. Ok me.

Dear Life,

At this very moment, I am feeling quite overwhelmed by you. I need you to stop throwing so much at me because as much as I like to "keep busy" this is getting ridiculous.

The baking. You know how much I love to bake. Seriously, though? Two items each for the library Bake Sale and the pre-school Halloween party, and something for the daycare Halloween party? I do not have unlimited amounts of time to stand in the kitchen.

The sewing. (Yeah, I am domesticated like that.) I'll take part of the heat for this one, because I did open my big yap and offer to make a sling for my friend Kim, seeing as how she just had a baby girl. I only offered because my other friend Amber also just had a baby girl and since I can't afford to buy expensive baby gifts.. well.. fleece was on sale, and you get two slings from one piece of fabric. Okay, so that one is on me. But did the zipper in my only winter coat really have to crap out? I had to buy (and will have to sew) not one, but two zippers in order to fix my inner liner/outer shell-style of coat. Why, oh why, does the Hurricane's taekwondo** uniform require hemming of sleeves and leg cuffs? Why couldn't it just magically fit?

The cleaning. I can't stand all the crap that accumulates on the floor; the idea of my Little Dude crawling around in dog hair and slobbery cheerios and other icky detritus is just too much. Daily, I battle the mud and sand that is carried in by the boots of small children. Small daughter, specifically, who does not remove her boots at the door, instead wearing them all the way into the living room where she can jump on the couch. In her boots. So I feel compelled to vacuum every day, because I am disgusted by the state of the floors and carpets in this hovel. I am not even going to get started on the hell-hole that is called the living room, the wreck that is known as the Potty Training In Process bathroom, or the disaster that resembles the kitchen.

The money. We're struggling these days. I hate that we are forced to scrimp and pinch every penny in order for our kids to have some fun stuff. Taekwondo cost $155 today, for: uniform, sparring helmet, training manual, belt, and monthly payment of $40. I wrote another check for $36 for school pictures for the Hurricane. It was the 2nd cheapest option. I paid $20 for pictures at Sears for the Princess and the Little Dude. $20 isn't much, except when you don't really have it to blow on pictures. (I thought I could pay when I picked up the pictures, not at time of ordering. I really wish the woman had explained that to me when she said, "We can have your pictures for you today, but it's an extra $4 charge," and I specifically said, "I have no money today, so I won't be getting them today." Unfortunately, I was running late to pick up the Hurricane and it was just faster to pay the $20 instead of wasting ten minutes I didn't have while she changed my order.) Some days, I really hate being poor.

Myself. I am feeling very left behind, as all my girlfriends have jobs. What a silly thing to whine about, isn't it? We can't afford to pay daycare for me to go back to work. I should feel lucky and grateful to be able to be home with my kids. Well, I don't. I feel pouty. I wish I could work a couple of days a week. Allllll my friends get to wooooorrrrkk!!! I'm feeling kind of melancholy. I feel like I have lost my groove with life, and at the same time, I'm stuck in a rut. I am trying to get so much done in so little time, and it's killing me to do it. I also must give myself some Me time; usually it is reading blogs and writing. All of this adds up to staying up later and not getting enough sleep. Also, I think my hormones are out of whack. I have been keeping a period calendar for the last few months, and my cycle is all over the damn place. I just finished two weeks ago, and again I'm spotting. I have to get to the doctor and have my hormones checked. (Yet another thing to add to the list.)

The marriage. (I am kind of breaking a rule here. It is not a rule that has been discussed between Hot Stuff and myself, but I think on his end, it has been implied that I do not talk about our marriage, unless it's good happy stuff.) You know how they (the All-Knowing They from the Fake Institute) say that marriage is for better/for worse? It's not all for better. We're going through a for worse part right now. It's tough, and crappy, and we're hardly talking. I can't get him to talk to me about the things we need to talk about. He says he "doesn't want to get all upset right now," but seems indifferent to the fact that I have been "all upset" for the last three days.

So, as you can see, Life, there are many irons in the fire right now. I surely could use a bit of a breather. The tank is just about empty. (See? I have almost run out of cliches to express how run down over I feel.) What I could really use is a day off. A day where I don't feel the pressure to get as much done as possible before more shit comes rolling downhill towards me. That? Would be lovely. Please consider it.

Thanks a mill,

Stone

**I smelled Mr. T and he smells great! Still no picture as of yet.