Drain ... Oh.

I'm sorry that I haven't blogged all that much lately. I really haven't felt like I've had a lot to say.
And I hate blogging about my whining-whining-whining ... because that's usually BORING.

Still, I apologize for my silence. It's not you, it's me.

Yesterday STARTED out well enough ... which gave me some hope.
The kids actually participated well (even BRUISE!) at Bucket's little dance class. And that was GREAT! I was heaping praise and hugs like they were on a clearance sale, y'all.

They even got to play at the park next to the building where Bucket's class is.
Then I got them home, and fed them Goldfishes ... and then I attempted to put them to nap.

Which was like a repeat of Saturday afternoon ... and the reason I barely left the bed Sunday (thank goodness for General Conference. Boo for not getting to hear much of it ... But yay for the Church posting the mp3s YESTERDAY ... so I've listened to two of the Sunday morning talks. And I'll be listening to more pretty soon.).

Saturday (and yesterday) was mostly spent hoping and wishing and fretting and threatening that the kids take a %*&()$)@*&%&%(*!$ nap!

Which they didn't.

And their whining and subordination and blatant disregard for me saps me of the will to live.

I called Michael. Read books. Took a bath. ... And still, with all those good things, I was a slug when he got home.

I cried.

We didn't read ANY of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe like we do most other nights. I couldn't even fathom working up the energy to read aloud, let alone do a half-***ed effort at the different voices. (And we're going to meet Mr. and Mrs. Beaver! I can't NOT work to make them awesome!)

I had Michael give me a blessing. I really needed it.

We're skipping storytime today. I know it sounds bad, but I really couldn't care less. I just need to turn in a lot of books ... which I should do as soon as I throw on some real-people clothes. And I will. I need to.

We've taken quite a few of the kids' toys away as a consequence. I'd like them to earn them back. Perhaps I'll just start a big tally -- for each time they obey without whining or talking back, they can earn a point. Ten points and they can earn back a toy (and GOSH, they've got a ways to go!) ... when they DO whine and talk back or flop (I'm looking at YOU, Mr. Bruise), I get a point.

... I forsee myself getting a LOT of points ... I wonder what I should have them forfeit? Probably watching shows. They love to watch shows. ... Oooooh, I could also have them give up ANY choice of music in the car. (They usually get to listen to their songs [i.e., "Jack songs" = Anything from the soundtrack for The Nightmare Before Christmas] on the way somewhere. Then I get to listen to whatever the heck I want to listen to on the way back. Unless I'm feeling especially generous.

I usually don't feel all that generous.

Even though I DO like me some Danny Elfman. Man's a friggin' GENIUS.

Slightly funny:
Bruise: [petting Diana-cat] Diana is [Bucket]'s cat. Gingi is my cat. My cat is DEAD.

Yeah, I think he might miss my Gingi-babe almost as much as I do.

It kills me that I already have started to forget the exact feel of her fur, her scent, the exact sounds she'd make.
It's not like my grandfolks that have passed ... where, every so often, I'll catch a whiff of the smell of Grandma D's house or a hint of cigarette smoke (which will always remind me of Pop-pop) or the musty smell of the attic from Nana and Pop-pop's old house ...

No. But every so often, Ging will appear in a dream. Which simultaneously comforts and saddens me. As opposed to when I dreamt of Pop-pop and was just comforted.

See? I told you I wasn't that funny or amusing right now. I just feel drained and tired.

It's a good thing that my mom's coming up today. Or else I'd just let the dishes and laundry pile up and throw some food at the kids and hole up in my bed or the bathtub or something.

Bucket just drew a flower in the hand of the princess in her coloring book. Impressive.
She drew a picture of her brother yesterday. It was cute. Then she added hair, so it was then HER. Which was also cute.

I need to design birthday cards for my Young Women. I'm not feeling incredibly inspired. Usually I can crank out some cute, personalized cards for my girls pretty quickly (LOVE MS Publisher) ... but ... I'm just not feeling it.

I was wondering if I just used up all my creativity in designing a cute handout to give to my VT sisters (And, if I may be so bold, it IS cute. I asked Michael about it, like, FOUR TIMES.) ... but it's been about 18 hours ago ... and I still don't have any great ideas.
It's not like I don't love these girls ... I DO. I just .... I don't know.

Michael found a pair of his old jeans for me. That's cool. They fit and they don't make me look as squeezed into my jeans as my other pairs of jeans. (Srsly - WHY THE AITCH are women's jeans all practically denim LEGGINGS with a heavy seam in the crotch and pockets? Ew. They make me feel superfat. And, yes, I could lose some weight ... but a good deal of it is all that stretched-out skin from carrying mah BAYBEES. So I refuse to feel as fat as I could. ...butIstillfeelabitfat.)

Besides, most of my jeans all have a hole in the right knee. I think it's because I sit a certain way at the computer (with my right leg crossed over my left most of the time).

Well, I need to get dressed and stuff.

It's cold.

I'm tired of crying. I don't care if it's because I miss my cat, the change in the weather or tides or something, the stress of having dear, sweet children who REFUSE TO EFFING LISTEN TO ME; or the stupid economy or maybe I AM just PMSing ... who knows. I'm just tired of it.

Still, my husband is awesome. And he's a really good cook. And laundry-folder (Hey, I did some too). And house-cleaner. And disciplinarian.

I'm really lucky that I have him.

Even if I feel rather like a complete failure in most other aspects.
At least I'm a total winner in choosing myself a spouse. Totally.

Now, I just need to shape up in, like, EVERY other area of my life.

No biggie, right?
*rolls eyes*