Warning. Rant Ahead.

March 29, 2012 at 2:04 pm | Posted in And I ran (I ran so far away), Battles (aka: toddlerhood), Cheese with that whine? (aka rants), Heartbreak, Infertility | 13 Comments

(With swear words and stuff. Not the post you were looking for? Feel free to click away. I won’t feel bad.)

I’m having a week.

I’m tired, cranky, can’t get enough sleep.

My mom might have a kidney stone or advanced renal disease. No one seems to be worried about the latter part of that sentence, despite the abysmal readings from some test the doctor did. Everyone seems to THINK that it’s a stone because of her pain, but you know, it might be worse. We’ll find out today what the deal is.

Charlie’s uncle had a stroke after Lucky’s birthday party. Mild, but enough that it’s affected his speech and understanding. He CAN talk, but he’s got a long way to go before he’s back to where he was. And I wish we lived closer so I could go help out more.

My sister is really, really hurting from her BFN and it’s killing me to listen to her pain.

A blog friend is dealing with a divorce because her husband is in love with her best friend.

My empathy and feelings of utter powerlessness for them are choking me and I have this instinctive NEED to DO SOMETHING. I can’t, and it hurts my heart.

My hip hurts from my hard track workouts last week and I am really sick of STILL DEALING WITH TENDINITS from last fall’s marathon. I want to run and NOT hurt. Apparently that’s too much to ask.

It’s also too much to ask for my four year old to stop wetting his pants. I KNOW. I need to be patient. But I’m low on patience and sick of the same fucking routine. In the span of two and a half hours last night, we had two accidents. (Not even kidding. I wish I was.)

You want to hear what it’s like?

Me, neutrally: Your pants are wet, Lucky. Go use the potty – I’m going to get dry pants for you to change into.

Him: No!!! I DON’T HAVE TO GO!!

Me, faking a smile: Yes you do. You JUST went in your pants a little bit. Go on, go use the potty!

Him: No!!! I don’t HAVE TO GO!!

Me: [deep breath] Sweetie, you DO have to go. Your pants are wet. Go on, just try. I bet you have pee in there.

Him: No!!! I DON’T HAVE TO GO!!

Me, losing my calm: JUST USE THE [insert swearword under my breath here] POTTY ALREADY, FOR CRIPES SAKE. Otherwise there will be no [insert logical consequence here].

Him: No!!! I DON’T HAVE TO GO!!!

Me: YES YOU FREAKING DO!!! JUST GO ALREADY!

Him: No!!! I DON’T HAVE TO GO!!

Me: [taking my fiftieth millionth deep breath] Fine. Just go STAND IN THE BATHROOM and I’ll get you new clothes.

Or the alternate ending. Last night I actually sat him on the potty told him he wasn’t allowed to go to bed until he peed.

Mom of the year here, folks. I am full of awesome.

And SO, SO sick of the smell of pee.

I’m due for AF any moment now. And since December, I become a raging lunatic in the few days before she arrives.

I don’t know WHY every cycle I bother telling myself that it’s not a ZERO chance, why not try for it? And even though I KNOW it’s never fucking going to happen, a part of me still hopes. I don’t fucking believe in rainbows or fairies or babydust. I don’t believe that we’re ever going to get lucky again.

Oh wait. Except that little tiny part of me with its wagging tail and happy dog grin.

It could happen! No, seriously, it COULD! Wouldn’t that be so AWESOME? We’d never have to deal with REs ever again!!

So I spend the days leading up to AF all fucking bitter that I was stupid enough to let myself hope that things could ever be different. Silly Serenity. You’re an idiot. Haven’t you figured out by NOW that you’ll never be pregnant again? Seriously girl, fucking FIGURE IT OUT already.

And then there’s the fact that my husband is commuting to Rhode Island every day for a super stressful and busy engagement and it’s a HUGE drain on our family. I am essentially single parenting every night and most of the weekends. Which honestly I GET. It’s not Charlie’s fault. First engagement, taking more time than it should, needs to meet deadlines, needs to work.

But that means my family and household responsibilities have gone up like 40%. Maybe 50%. And my work hours were only reduced by 20%.

And HE’S stressed out, so I need to step it up and do the little things which he appreciates because it makes his life a little easier. Because, you know, I’m only working part time. I can make time for that stuff now!

Doesn’t take a math genius to figure out I’m overtaxed with too much shit to do and think and process through… and not NEARLY enough time in which to do it all.

Which means I’ve reached the end of Patience. I have no patience for ANYTHING. For situations where Good People are dealing with Bad Shit. For my running, which has totally progressed – I’m running faster than I ever have right now, but STILL DEALING with the stupid hip issues. For my stupid inner Optimist, who hopes with every positive sign of ovulation that maybe we’ll get lucky. For my poor son who clearly is struggling with accidents on a physical AND behavioral level. For my husband, who is working SO hard right now, and who is just as stressed and tired as I am.

Balance. Happiness. Breath. Joy. Mindfulness. Living in the moment.

It all seems so far away from my grasp right now.