I've decided that getting my feelings out would be very therapeutic. My poor husband and parents hear it all so maybe I can quit burdening them with the stupid stuff if I can get it out another way.
I have no idea what is wrong with me right now. I wonder if it is Post Partum Depression. I'm exhausted and not at all myself. I think Abi is getting colic and Megan is a typical 2 year old. Wait, she's a wonderful 2 year old, pretty well behaved considering. But my patience seems to be wearing ridiculously thin. I envy Brian's patience. There seems to be a never-ending supply of it. It seems silly to say that I envy him, but I really do. He is such a wonderful father and I wish I could be that great of a Mom. I feel like I am cheating my whole family right now, I know I can be better, do better, but for some reason I'm not.
I keep thinking "if only I could______, then things would be better." What goes in that blank changes 50 times a day. From 'get more sleep' to 'earn more money' to 'get the house really clean' to 'lose 30 pounds' it changes with the wind. I feel like this facade I'm putting up is cracking and I'm terrified of what will come if it fully collapses. I know Brian is a patient man but I hope I can be the wife he deserves soon. I'm sure he would never leave his girls but I don't want to make him wish that he could leave me. I even feel guilty sitting here when I could be cleaning but I really think maybe it will help to get it all out somehow. Then maybe I'll feel better, good enough to be really productive. If I could get Abi and Meg to be content for more than five minutes so I could really get something done. Mom tells me I need sleep so nap when they nap...but I really don't want to. I want to sleep, don't get me wrong, but I really feel better when I get something done. Brian called and said he would be home a little later this evening and I feel relieved to have that much time. That gives me time to do some more cleaning, make a good dinner, maybe bake, but I'd also like to work out and look gorgeous when he gets home. Well, maybe gorgeous is a stretch, but I'd like to put in my contacts, put on make-up, and do my hair in something other than a pony-tail. I have this fantasy of him coming home to a clean house, hot, yummy dinner, the kids dressed and ready, and a woman who doesn't look like a fat, frumpy house-wife. I wish it were like that every day. That is what he deserves.
Maybe I should get off the computer, enough 'therapy' for now. Time to get going...
