I don't know what my deal is, but I'm in a bad mood. A slump. And for no particular reason. If my children spoke fluent English and could spell they would file for emancipation. Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn't help that my three year old has told me that she "loves me even if I'm cranky". I've prayed for naptime and get anxiety when I realize there are eleven minutes until Sesame Street is over. If I can figure out how to get the dog to stop eating it, I will bust out the Play-doh. It used to need supervision because I was all freaky about keeping the colors separated. Now we have a bunch of empty containers and a blob of gray Play-doh.
Gray Playdoh. Gray weather. Gray day.
My efforts to pump have been in vain as Porkchop seems to prefer the coconut water over mother's milk and looks like he may wean himself in order to avoid the syringe. I am now pumping for nothing. Awesome. I secretly let him play with his sister's prized Strawberry Shortcake car in order to have six minutes with him not trying to climb up my leg after putting him down for two minutes. It is the saddest thing to watch him whimper while wearing the No-nos. I have a cold heart. I do not understand women in their need for a freaky, possessive boyfriend. I need space, for the love!
When I get like this, I am nasty. In my boredom I sign on to Facebook to see what's up and want to throw rocks. Super hot, skinny chick from my youth is looking all glamorous with her self-righteous, perfect life. I need to pray. Pray for my soul for the wicked thoughts I have about throwing rocks! That is my favorite fantasized revenge. Throw rocks at them!
My favorite blogs disappoint by either not updating or posting about people and situations who have it much worse off than I do in attempt to make me feel grateful for what I've got or how lucky I am. Duh and more duh! My favorite decorating blogs make me long for more mulah, and the knitting ones for more time. There is no solace in the internet today.
The rug I scored an amazing deal on this weekend has to be returned because I can't make up my mind for more than three minutes. There is no solace in shopping.
Instead, I dig out the old popcorn puke bucket from my pregnancy days. It is perfect for holding paint and I find my little angled brush. I can always count on Abba and a coat of paint for a boost.
When Mom asked, "You're gonna try and paint now? Are you nuts?" I should have just gone with "YES!!!" Because it's true. I'm totally nuts right now. All conversation will end with a rant.
I will be back when I have something to show for myself.
Shades of gray.
Scootle your bootle to Home Depot to find your favorite shade and blast this song. Then tell me you don't feel better? I know that mock lace collar and shimmer pants made me feel better about my greasy hair and painting scrubs.
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