yiggety yo ... it's been a while ...

So, I just haven't had a lot to say that I haven't said on Facebook.

But today, spilling over from yesterday ... there's some.

I just am feeling like a kinda crap mother.

Saturday was okay. Bubbles turned 6. We had a party for family, then went out for dinner (Still not wildly impressed with Red Robin. But I got my Poppin' Purple Lemonade, so it wasn't too bad. Michael's burger was still cold, though. Drat.) ...  The day before, she got to have a couple friends join her at the local bounce-house-place. I learned that the moms of Bubbles's friends know each other ... so all the kids AND all the moms are friends. That was a sweet deal. And we took little cupcakes (and cookies for the lactose-intolerant kids) to her classroom.

But ... Sunday was tougher.
We had discussed reverence last week for Family Home Evening. And Bruise agreed to NOT do sudoku during Sacrament Meeting (like ... Communion? But it's what LDS people call it). Bucket has started drawing stuff from Five Nights at Freddy's ... which I asked her to refrain from. Since we're, y'know, supposed to be thinking about JESUS. And I have put my foot down that they WILL put away their stuff and SING during the songs (all 3-4 of them).

Bubbles is doing her thing, looking over the back of our pew and distracting the people behind us. Michael's dealing with that.

At one point, I look over ... Bucket is on the FLOOR, buns pointed to the person bearing his/her testimony, with her head under the pew.

"Hey ... hey!" I hiss at her. "You need to be SITTING now. On the PEW." ... Basic stuff, right?

"FINE!!" She snarls back. "Then I WON'T look for my pen!"

And ... guys, I just ... I just couldn't handle being there, on the same pew.
I whispered to Michael that I was going to take a walk ... and I left the chapel, stepped outside, walked around the building to where I could walk in without running into too many people, did my best not to cry ... I found that the Relief Society (women's group) room was empty. So I popped in there, turned on the speaker, and listened to the other testimonies being borne. And I still worked at not crying. Because I looked nice. And crying would make me all puffy and red-faced and my mascara would run and I'd have tear-tracks through my foundation.

I managed. Then I had to find Michael (and my bag, which he had taken). and I helped a friend find pictures for her lesson (I have served as an assistant Ward [congregation] librarian before. Mostly, it's all about finding pictures, making copies, and ensuring that there's chalk, erasers, crayons, and TVs). I also ran into another friend to ask a favor (and she agreed. Awesome girl).
Then I hung with Michael and helped him get set up for teaching the YM during the third hour.
Then we went in late to Sunday School.

And we went home after, to drop the girls off. They made mac and cheese, but not enough ... so when Michael, Bruise, and I got back from dropping off an invite to one of Bruise's classmates, there wasn't lunch for me. And I was not happy.

I finished typing up the Relief Society newsletter and sent it out. Only one mistake ... and no one has called me on it yet (I didn't change the subject line from "test email - [date]" ... but that's better than last week when I left in the "forwarded message" gobbledygook at the top of the email  --- since I send myself a "test email" then send it to the rest of the Relief Society. Maybe next week, I'll remember BOTH bits?)

Then I made myself mac and cheese and went to bed. I read a little, then SLEPT HARD. I remember waking up when Michael came in to take a nap. I vaguely remember Bucket coming in and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I vaguely recall Michael instructing the kids to take out the trash.

I did have a crazy dream. We were in a different (not nicer, just different) house. And Michael was making a meal. And, when he handed it to me, my mug was filled with, like 1/4 full of noodles ... and the broth was filled with a clean, unwrapped pantyliner, wrappers from bandaids ... I was kinda ticked. It's a good thing that I realized it was a dream ... or else, when he came to bring me IRL dinner (which was NOT topped with garbage), I'd have been all, "Michael, WHAT the HELL?!?" and he'd have been confused.

I want to be a good mom. But I just don't feel like I'm ... making it.
The house is cleaner (still) than it's been in a long time. I do a daily morning devotional with the kids before they go to school. They're alive. They're fed. They have clothes, shoes, blankets ... but I just feel like I'm barely managing to tread water with Bucket.

I try to do things, spend time with her ... and then stuff like this happens.
At least Bruise and Bubbles are sweet to me, even when they're mad.

What am I doing wrong?  I mean, I must be doing something wrong.
It's not like I haven't read, like, a BAZILLION books about parenting crap ... but I'm just not getting it.