Funktified

I've been in a funk.  Just kinda wiped out and tired and a bit blue.

I've tried to blog, but after my high-on-life post last week, I felt like I had to wait a while before I wrote again, lest you find me to be manic.

So here is the situation- Weather, beautiful.  Children, crazy. Me, mopey.  Devon, working long hours.  Finances, ugh. 

Devon returned from work late last night to find me in tears, crying about how I'm not a good mom because the kids don't listen to me, and we are never ever going to afford another vacation for as long as we live, and we don't eat healthy enough, and the house is messy, and Joe jumped in a pool with his new cell phone in his pocket, and Lucy yelled "you are fired!" at me in Costco because I wouldn't buy her a book, and Max- oh, Max- Max did this-

Permanent red Sharpie on the carpet, the hardwood floors, my cedar chest, and our sofa.  Crayon on the sofa was so last week.

My husband listened to me cry, tried to give me a hug though I said, "No hugs!  It is too hot in here!", asked if my glass of wine was helping me at all, and that was that.

Do you have breakdowns like that too?  Surely I'm not the only one.

Today I feel a bit better.  It is Devon's day off, so I've been passing off as many household/childcare duties as possible, because, let's face it, mamas don't ever get a day off.

Yesterday was Lucy's first day of preschool.  She did so well being dropped off, and I did well too. No tears!  Us Rantz girls are tough as nails (haha!).

And Max- oh, Max- Max was alone in the double stroller...  with his finger up his nose. 

Silly boy.  He's been saying "I sowwy" a lot lately.  As he sat in the longest timeout of his short life, after the Sharpie incident, he kept saying it over and over.  "I sowwy, mommy.  I sowwy."  I was having a panic attack and all I could say in response was, "Max, don't get out of that chair!  Why did you do this?"  "Be'tuz."  "Because WHY???"  "Road."  He was drawing a road for Lightening McQueen.  Geesh.

Last night I told Devon- during my breakdown- that if you spend enough time with anyone, you just get a little tired of them.  Am I allowed to say that I'm a little tired of my children?  It doesn't feel like something that a mama should be allowed to say.  Maybe I should say that I'm tired of their shenanigans.  I just want them to sit quietly with their hands folded in their laps.  Is that too much to ask?

But then they do something cute, like dress alike,

or act sweet and play with their toys and let me have a small break from meeting all their needs,

and that is when I think, okay, I guess they are kinda fun to have around.

I guess I'll keep them.

But, I do need a break, so Grandma Donna is here now to give me and my boyfriend a night out.

Let's hope I de-funk!