I Need My Own Personal Stonehenge

Perhaps it's the weather, the change in seasons, or the phase of the moon, but everyone in my life seems to be a bit, well, depressed.  We're all somewhat overwhelmed yet surprisingly nonplussed about it.  I thought maybe it was just me, or perhaps the planets were aligned in a bizarre pattern (something I don't ever think about until I can't find a reason for a puzzling situation).  I guess I need a couple of Druids and some really big rocks (and let's go ahead and throw in the Salisbury Plain 'cause I sure as hell would rather be there than here right now). Perhaps then, I will be able to find the cause of this rift in emotions.

Think about this for a second... Imagine being there right next to one of those enormous rocks (yes, I know it is no longer allowed.  That's why I said "imagine.")  Put your hand on the chilly, bumpy surface of the stone next to you.  The sun is about to come up and you are going to witness it rise above the Heel Stone in the distance and remarkably align itself with the center of the structure where you are now standing.

Can't be depressed watching that, can you?  It's a spiritual moment... a personal moment.  Yet, you are sharing it with others.  A bit like our modern day going to church except, at least for me, church is not as spiritual, nor as breathtaking, nor as communal.  I think spiritually, modern day man (for the most part) has forgotten how to be "moved."  Oh, sure, we're moved occasionally... but on a daily, weekly, even monthly basis? We are over stimulated by the digital world, underfed emotionally in our relationships, and all without a Stonehenge to gather and get back to the basics of life. How do we get there without giving up all that we as humans have acquired through the ages?  Or, is it a trade off?

Hot Water Heater 1: Checkbook -850

Hot Water Heater

Hot Water Heater age 13 passed away peacefully at home on Wednesday, February 18, 2009. Heater was known throughout the Harris home as a fun loving tower of warmth and hard work. He supplied hot water to all faucets in the home and was generous in serving Dishwasher and Washing Machine as well. Many guests to the Harris home found that Heater was far too hot and often referred to him as an overachiever. This fueled Heater's work ethic even more, providing hot water even after Troll One Harris would take one of his infamous hour long showers. Heater is survived by his owners Tony Harris and Stacie Harris; and his trolls,Troll One, Troll Two and Troll 3. Funeral services will be arranged by Waste Management and visitation will be held at the White Goods Pile at the City Dump. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made to the Harris House from Hell Fund.

One of those MEAN Mommy Days

There are some days when I absolutely, 100 %, totally, and completely HATE being a wife and mother. For all of you out there that are gasping in shock and disgust I say "Get over it!" and "I am just sayin' what every mom feels but most don't say." I am hoping that someone out there feels like I do...or maybe I AM some kind of monster.  

I have good kids...really good kids.  I am lucky and blessed that they are healthy and happy.  I feel unbelievably guilty because there are so many people that can't have kids or have sick children. When days like this arrive, I know that this is not who I am but a passing feeling; that a lot of this is my illness speaking (depression) and that I have good reason to be overwhelmed and ready to escape.  That is logical Stacie speaking.  The not-so-logical Stacie will continue to snap at her family all day, tear herself apart for doing so, be somewhat VERY cranky with her hovering worried husband who wants to "fix it", and think of fantastic ways of escaping alone to some exotic destination preferably Mediterranean (but I'll take my dear friend's kitchen table across the street).

I am sick of doing housework, laundry, keeping up with toddler, grocery shopping, keeping up with pets that seem to have every effing illness in the world, paying the bills, running every freakin' errand imaginable, picking up Troll Two from school and all that that involves (signing agendas, reviewing Wednesday folders, fussing because she didn't have her violin for class for the 3rd time), homeschooling Troll One, maintaining the car, worrying about the house that is  falling down around my ears, keeping my artist husband on track (sometimes he needs a little push to get him to the drawing table), PICKING UP EVERYBODY ELSE'S CRAP CONSTANTLY... wait, I need to repeat that one, PICKING UP EVERYBODY ELSE'S CRAP CONSTANTLY... and the list goes on and on and on and on.   And the most frustrating thing is that I'm not doing one thing on said list well.

 I, YOURS TRULY, NUMERO UNO am EXHAUSTED, DONE, THROUGH...at least right now.  I can't remember the last time I was totally alone in my house...I can't remember the last time I was totally alone ANYWHERE.  And they, as in the group of aliens I live with, want to know "What's wrong?" and "Why are you so bitchy and assey, MOMMY...Oh and MOM ?I don't have a uniform for tomorrow?" No, they aren't allowed to cuss but that's the jist.  In my mind's eye I am throwing things... like vases, dishes, the cat.  In my mind's eye I am grabbing my keys, my purse, and walking my tired ass outta this house and driving... somewhere... anywhere that doesn't involve anything.

Okay, so I've said all of the things I shouldn't.  And I know that tomorrow or the next day hopefully, I will be in love with my life once again... well, at least "in like" with it again.

Well, better go.  Here comes hovering husband again... Where's that coat hanger???

Some Things "I'll think about tomorrow."

I, for the most part, do not find myself able to relate to Scarlet O'Hara in any way except when she says,"I'll think about that tomorrow."  Sometimes, though, tomorrow comes with a slap in the face.  Oblivion is the tightly built nest secure in a tree amongst three limbs and Reality is the unexpected spring storm that blows it clear across the street to the neighbor's yard. Reality came home to roost today by way of telephone.  

Mom says that Dad's stress test showed that he has had at some point a heart attack.

Doctor says that, while the heart did receive damage, it is receiving blood and working fine.

Stacie says What do you mean my parents won't live forever?

I'll think about that tomorrow...