In A Cloud Of Funk

Wow. This red box is a bit annoying at one in the morning.

Anyway...

I haven't been writing because I am in a funk of some sort. Personally I believe that it is just plain old fatigue. I am suffering from an energy drought of sorts. Mom is gone most evenings with the whole volunteer tax prep thing and M works midnight shift. That means that I have been spending more time alone with the girls than ever before. And it's getting the best of me.

Take, for instance, this evening. With mom gone and C not offering up a whole lot of entertainment, though I did get a chuckle out of him nodding off in his recliner and damn near tasting the carpet, the girls and I headed home. I put Mak in her swing and that wouldn't do her. She fussed and fussed and fussed until finally I fixed a bottle and put her to bed where she continued to fuss and fuss and fuss. That's pretty much all she did today was fuss. I don't know what is going on with her. Actually with both of them.

Grace seems to be caught in the middle of a Good Grace/Bad Grace battle. She has done more crying and tantruming in the past week than she has her entire life, and frankly, I don't get it. And I can't stand it. There are few things that wear on my nerves more than a whiny and crying child. Especially when there isn't any obvious reason in the world why the child is whiny and crying. It cuts right to my core.

So anyway, Mak was yelling at me from her swing and I decided to lie on my side on the couch in hopes of somehow pretending all of the noise away. Grace repeatedly nailed my left tit to the couch with her elbow because for some reason she can't get enough of me these days. Besides relief in knowing that there finally is a reason that my left tit is so much bigger than my right one, being jumped on time after time again wasn't much fun for me. At all.

Grace wanted something to drink. Mak wanted something that she couldn't quite express to me. Finally I told Grace that I would like to have ten minutes that I didn't have to get up and do something for either of them. I made it to three minutes. So I think that's why I'm so fucking tired: I can't get a break.

And because of that I have been so mean and nasty lately. M and I had a horrible four days, and I can't wholly blame him--even though I want to wholly blame him. The thing is, I haven't been able to find much happiness around me. And that's not me. I am usually able to pull a "yeah, one thing sucks right now but another thing doesn't so I'm going to squeeze the joy out of it." And I haven't been able to do that lately.

And to top it all, the girls both have birthdays within the next couple of weeks. Princess Grace turns four on the 19th, and Mak will celebrate her one year of life the 23rd, Easter Sunday. Grace didn't have anything in way of a party last year because I was nine months pregnant and miserable. We had cake and ice cream here and that was it, so I decided that I was going to make it up to her.

I have rented a clown for the party, which seems like a ridiculous thing to do the more I think about it, but I have my reasons. First of all, I have decided that the party is only going to last one hour and a half. I think that's ample time to celebrate a child's birth with her friends. Oh, yeah, that's the whole hang up: the friends.

See, she's inviting everyone from her class and we aren't sure how that is going to go. I mean, I would hope that the parents would allow their children the opportunity to come to Grace's party, but I don't know how many takers we're going to have. There is a parents' meeting tomorrow night so I will take the invitations with me and pass them out, assuring them that they don't need to worry about a gift because just the fact that they show up will mean the world to Grace--and it would. But, no matter how hard I try, I can't get the vision of a room full of kids. That means that I have probably doled out $85 for the clown and $75 for the what nots for three or four kids. And how badly would that fucking blow? Yeah, we're talking serious chunk blowing there. But I know that a bunco girl will show. And my friend F's kids will be there....

Oh, my friend F. I meant to touch on this like two paragraphs ago, but try to bear with me. I mentioned that Grace didn't have a party last year and I was making it up to her. Well, I decided that since Mak's birthday was on Easter that we would just do the family gig. My friend F wasn't too into that. Keep in mind that it has been a couple of months since we've gotten together.

So she calls me last week and asks me if I am having a big party for Mak. I told her no and explained that I didn't think it was real necessary to have a big party for Mak and that two big parties in the same week was too much for me to handle. The next thing out of her mouth is this: "Would you mind if *I* threw a birthday party for her?"

Okay, before you start with the "oh, that's so nice" stuff, let me state that yes, I agree that it's a nice thing for her to offer to do. But it made me feel like a fucking heel. Like I had instantly been demoted from my Super Mom of The Year spot. And it has burdened me with guilt.

See, Grace's first birthday party wasn't just a party, it was a fucking social event. There were 40 people at her first birthday party. Yes, you read that right: forty people attended Grace's first birthday party. And even though I swore that my second child wouldn't fair any less than my first, the truth is, I haven't had anything to do with the family members that piled into Grace's party and would feel a bit weird inviting them out of the blue to celebrate with Mak when they haven't seen her since she was three months old. Mom doesn't work at the hospital anymore either so there goes that gang of well-wishers. There aren't forty people in our lives anymore to attend Mak's party. And yes, I feel horribly guilty about that, and her invitation to host the party didn't do me much good emotionally or mentally.

She called tonight and was talking about buying this and buying that. I said, "Don't go sinking a bunch of money into this because I can't pay you back for this stuff." I mean, why the hell do the kids all need treat and goody bags for Mak's birthday? Yeah, I know it's so they won't feel left out, but what the hell's wrong with the Everything A Dollar store? Why the fuck does all the stuff have to come from Target?

Ech. But I digress....

So she's rattling off her list of things that she has done and is planning to do for Mak's party. Keep in mind that I told her I would allow her to do this if--and only if--it was just for her family and mine. Period. No big "invite everyone you can think of" bash because I'm not into it. I do believe that a first birthday is a big deal, and I am very sentimental about it all, so I don't want a bunch of mere acquaintances there. Finally I asked what she was going to do about the cake. "Oh, could you take care of that because I'm doing all the other stuff." Yeah, I'll do it. And I don't mind doing it because of the whole control freak issues I have, but don't offer to host a party for four kids, four including Mak, and buy all that stupid shit and not worry about the cake.

Gawd, I'm being petty, huh? I know I am, but it irks me. I don't want to keep up with the Joneses this time. I'm not into it. Hell, Mak isn't even going to remember this birthday!

See, I told you I was in a funk.

But I thought that this was a great way of including Mak and Grace's extended family in her celebration of the first whole year of her life, allowing F to do this. It didn't bother me at all until the day after I had already agreed to it. Then I started feeling like a boob--okay, like a tit. Okay, like a tit nailed to the couch with an elbow.

Shit, I'm shaking my head at myself, which is probably a sign that I have ranted too long about trivial shit. But ranting about trivial shit happens to be my style lately. I'm hoping that a bit of it has to do with my Post Menstrual Syndrome because that would be a wonderfully silly way to talk myself out of the fact that I am merely being a whiny bitch. Ha.

I have a ton of things that I need to be doing, but I'm sitting here instead. Picture that. I stay up all night because it's the only time that no one wants anything from me. The girls are sleeping. The parents are sleeping. M is working. And I am glued to the chair in front of the computer.

And I *have* to say this because you're my only audience:

What the hell is wrong with this country that the choice between who is going to run for President in either party is already fucking decided? I was so mad when John Edwards decided that he couldn't run with the big dogs. I wanted to write to him and tell him that I was so disappointed that he had helped the media nail down my options between Obama, whom I really don't dig, and Clinton. I know it wasn't his fault that the two of them took this thing and ran with it, but shit. And not to mention the fact that by the time *my* state votes it pretty much will already be decided. I think the whole system needs to be remodeled. I can't get over the fact that our options are so quickly limited. It irks me. A lot. I'm becoming apathetic.

Okay, no worries. My babbling here is done. For now. Ha.