I think I'm there, hanging on by a frayed thread. Man was not meant to be alone and neither was woman, not for this long anyway. I'm doing what I can to attempt sanity, I really am. I spent yesterday and this morning reorganizing my kitchen. My hopes- that a little less clutter and a little more streamlining might make my life a little less chaotic.
But... the dogs are stunting my eternal progression. I swear like a sailor, argue with my 12 year old, and feel like a shrew. I have never really considered myself an animal lover per say but Cody is doing his best to take me in the other direction. We are repotty training- again. Since the dogs stopped using the garden area on the patio for their bathroom spot and started using the entire patio once they started spending more time indoors it became necessary to retrain them without use of the doggie door. Hopefully the dogs and I will both live through this process. They have two more weeks to figure it out. Will Cody ever figure out that the second I turn my back he should not chew up a toy? I don't know.
I do know that I am done having all my patience taken up by one dog when I need it for all of my children. Joe is a very good dog, Cody is loving, and... making me crazy. Just how crazy, ask my husband. I don't even know why he calls me any more. All I do is vent. This too shall pass. In three more weeks I will have a husband home for 27 months. It's just that I was mentally done in November. And... although Mike very nicely reminds me that I was in Venice while he was sweating his guts out in Iraq it is still very hard to deal with the fact that he is done with school by 2:00 most days with nothing to do but go to movies and go out to eat and go to museums. I KNOW, I'm feeling sorry for myself, it's true. But hey, if this is for posterity I don't want to paint too rosy a picture of myself. "Great Grandma Brooke never complained, she just worked hard and read her scriptures, and she is for sure in the Celestial Kingdom right now. Why can't you be more like your great grandmother?'' I don't want that kind of pressure for any of my loved ones. So I will sit here bemoaning my fourth day of rain, the fact that I have no close friends here, the fact that I miss my running buddies, the fact that floortime for 15-20 hours a week is more easily said than done, and I will even deny myself the satisfaction of chocolate because I am finally seeing progress on the scales. I shouldn't add that part because it is positive.
I might have stated this before but just in case, do you know what the worst part is? I get almost no sympathy from my husband. Why, you might ask. Something about how he has lived in third world countries and seen women who actually do have a hard life. Women that have to carry their laundry out and wash it by hand, women who don't have enough food and have no electricity, women that live in fear for themselves and their children, women that slave from sunup to sundown and must be completely subservient to their husbands, and somehow he thinks I've got it made.
And so I will bemoan to my blog, but not for long, it's time to go pick Jane up from the stake youth activity and spend the car ride home convincing her that a cat is really the way to go. I told you, I'm evil.
But... the dogs are stunting my eternal progression. I swear like a sailor, argue with my 12 year old, and feel like a shrew. I have never really considered myself an animal lover per say but Cody is doing his best to take me in the other direction. We are repotty training- again. Since the dogs stopped using the garden area on the patio for their bathroom spot and started using the entire patio once they started spending more time indoors it became necessary to retrain them without use of the doggie door. Hopefully the dogs and I will both live through this process. They have two more weeks to figure it out. Will Cody ever figure out that the second I turn my back he should not chew up a toy? I don't know.
I do know that I am done having all my patience taken up by one dog when I need it for all of my children. Joe is a very good dog, Cody is loving, and... making me crazy. Just how crazy, ask my husband. I don't even know why he calls me any more. All I do is vent. This too shall pass. In three more weeks I will have a husband home for 27 months. It's just that I was mentally done in November. And... although Mike very nicely reminds me that I was in Venice while he was sweating his guts out in Iraq it is still very hard to deal with the fact that he is done with school by 2:00 most days with nothing to do but go to movies and go out to eat and go to museums. I KNOW, I'm feeling sorry for myself, it's true. But hey, if this is for posterity I don't want to paint too rosy a picture of myself. "Great Grandma Brooke never complained, she just worked hard and read her scriptures, and she is for sure in the Celestial Kingdom right now. Why can't you be more like your great grandmother?'' I don't want that kind of pressure for any of my loved ones. So I will sit here bemoaning my fourth day of rain, the fact that I have no close friends here, the fact that I miss my running buddies, the fact that floortime for 15-20 hours a week is more easily said than done, and I will even deny myself the satisfaction of chocolate because I am finally seeing progress on the scales. I shouldn't add that part because it is positive.
I might have stated this before but just in case, do you know what the worst part is? I get almost no sympathy from my husband. Why, you might ask. Something about how he has lived in third world countries and seen women who actually do have a hard life. Women that have to carry their laundry out and wash it by hand, women who don't have enough food and have no electricity, women that live in fear for themselves and their children, women that slave from sunup to sundown and must be completely subservient to their husbands, and somehow he thinks I've got it made.
And so I will bemoan to my blog, but not for long, it's time to go pick Jane up from the stake youth activity and spend the car ride home convincing her that a cat is really the way to go. I told you, I'm evil.
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Adina