Just a big shout out of gratitude to the folks at American Idol for doing their Neil Diamond theme last night. I have had one the Davids' rendition of "Sweet Caroline" stuck in my head all day. And that combined with the hour and a half I just wasted trying to get Madalyn to take a nap - well, that's just about enough to drive anyone insane. As if I need any help with going crazy.
I don't know what the deal is lately. I feel like I am sinking into some sort of pit. Pit of despair and doom. I get like this from time to time. Usually when I have had absolutely no time away from my children. And that's pretty much all the time. So, it is just this ever evolving cycle of ups and downs and utter frustration. Have I ever mentioned in any of my previous posts that I am SO GLAD I have been sterilized? I am extremely grateful for the two I have - they are healthy, they are charming (to those they don't live with), they are adorable, the list could go on and on. But they are slowly sucking the life out of me. And no matter what I do, I cannot find a way to deal with this phenomena. I was hoping that taking up the new habit of running would give me that "out." That something that could transport my mind to a higher level of tranquility. But it seems that it just gives me one more thing to get pissed off about because I cannot do it when I want to do it. I have to do it around this one particular child in my home that absolutely cannot be trusted to be alone for more than five solitary minutes. I have to wait until she is napping or while she is away at school. And here lately, both of those are seldom. School is only for four hours two days a week, and the naps have been few and far between.
I am incredibly excited that tomorrow, Scott and I will jet off (well, actually drive - but jet sounded so much more exciting) to Atlanta for the evening to see Bon Jovi in concert. I will be so glad to just get out of this house for a little while, even though it is only for a few hours. And I will put some real clothes on for once - not running clothes, not cleaning the house clothes, not ball park clothes - and look cute and actually have a good time. And I won't have to bathe anyone. No one will put their boogers in my hand (I hope). I will not have to fix a cup of strawberry milk. And no one will call me Mama. Crazy, maybe. But not Mama.