I'm Baaaaaaaack!

It's been awhile since I posted. Yeah...a long while. No, my kids didn't miraculously recover. No, I haven't gone off the deep end. We are somewhere in between the two. Plodding along. Honestly, I kind of forgot about the blog. I forgot how good it felt to vent. I'm remembering now. It's time to start again. Before I go off the deep end. I'm back!

PMS is Not My Friend

I've always struggled with PMS. When I was younger I was plagued with horrendous cramps. Over the years the cramps have almost disappeared, but the mood swings....whew...they are ugly. Just ask my kids. Yesterday and today I've been less than pleasant company. Last night I went to bed early (for me) and when my kids came in my room at 7:50 this morning, I bit their heads off. And that was just the beginning. I don't even like myself today. My kids weren't any worse today than any other day. It was me. I know it. I admit it, but I'm not really sure what to do about it. I'm currently making myself a supersized plate of tater tots. At 10:30 p.m. Because I wanted them. And then I'm going to bed, and hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.

My Dream Job

After a few years of voluntary unemployment, I got a job. I used to have a job. A professional job. I was pretty good at it and I made decent money. Sometimes I loved it. Sometimes I threatened to quit and work at the Gap. Then my circumstances changed and I was able to stay home. Ah...the coveted life of the unemployed. No job. Just laundry, and dishes, and cooking and cleaning and playing referee and chauffeur for my kids. It got old. Fast. You see, kids with trauma histories aren't always pleasant company. Not for their parents. Not for the kids in the neighborhood. Not even for your family. So I was home all day every day with these little cherubs, and totally isolated from the outside world. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind. Not even close. So, about a month ago, I got a job. Let me tell you, it is nothing like my previous job. I haven't applied anything I learned in college or grad school. The pay is nothing to write home about. It has nothing to do with children. Nothing to do with trauma. And I love it. For 10 whole hours a week I am transported to paradise where there is minimal stress and minimal thinking skills required. I am out in public. I can talk to other adults without being interrupted a thousand times or wondering how many children my son can injure in a 5 minute time span. I have quiet time to think, or to just be. It's the best job ever. I got my first paycheck last week. According to my calculations, after paying babysitters I made about $31 in two weeks. Some people might laugh at that. Other may cry. Me? I'm tickled pink! You mean I actually get paid to escape the craziness that is my life? Well yee haw!

I Love My Kids

Really, I do. But sometimes...I can't stand them. Sometimes I can't stand the sight, sound or smell of them. Sometimes I wish I could wake up and be footloose and kid-free. Parenting kids with trauma histories the hardest thing I've ever done. I've heard other parents talk about how much they appreciate who and what they've become while parenting kids like this. What? You mean an angry, stressed out, crying, raving lunatic? Maybe that's just me. Apparently I'm not to the thankful part yet.

The Cold Hard Truth

I have another blog. You know...with pictures of the kids at theme parks, and birthdays and the dog. The kind you send to your friends and family so they can tell you how cute your kids are and how much they've grown. Yeah, I have one of those. But this one is for me. It's a place to talk about the other stuff. Like when my son punches me in the face and tells his little brother he wants to cut him into little pieces. You know, the things you don't talk about at family get-to-gethers. It's a place for me to vent, to laugh, to cry, to sort it all out. This is my life....unedited.