Have you ever noticed that when the world goes wonky, it's the world's fault and not your own.
Meaning, I'm not the crazy one. The other how ever many billion people there are in the world are crazy.
I'm sane. And I tell myself that at least a dozen or so times a day.
The reason for this?
My children. My husband. My mother.
First, the children.
Punk is happy until I walk into the house, at which point she wants me and my attention and will accept not substitutes.
Boo has been whiny for almost a week now. And I don't mean just whiny as in a little annoying. I mean the variety that has you wondering if you should take the child to the doctor and have him checked sort of whining. About everything.
And then there is the amazingly helpful only when he wants to be, Bug. My OCD baby. He's part of the reason Boo is whiny, and he's a force to be reckoned with on his own. I think I've posted enough of his antics that you get the idea.
As for my husband, who still doesn't have a nickname, let's just say it's been lovely having him at home, but it's time for him to go back to work.
Spending all day with three small children has made him eager for adult conversation.
I spend all day talking to people. I don't want to talk when I get home. Do you see the problem?
I now know how Ward must have felt about June, Wally, and the Beave.
And then there's my mother. She has a boyfriend, although she won't say he's a boyfriend--she and he are the only ones who don't think there's a little something extra there. The boyfriend calls her every night, takes her out when he runs errands, goes out to dinner with her, but he's not a boyfriend. I lay awake wondering if I'm going to have to have the Bird and Bee's talk with her, because, you know, it's been a while and things have changed.
So the rest of the world, especially my own little familial portion of it, is crazy.
And even though I'm still sane, its only by the barest fingertips.
Like that stupid kitten on the poster, I'm just trying to hang in there!
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