I think someone needs to send me to the funny farm. I slowly feel myself losing my mind. I hear little voices morning, noon and night. These voices will not stop talking...they ask the same questions over and over again. I swear sometimes I think these little voices know the answers to these very important questions. Why won't the voices stop? I also see things. Visions that scare me. Why do I see frosting running down the side of my table like it is bleeding? Why do hand prints magically appear on my walls and in technicolor, no less? Why do I have a floor that produces toys and clothing consistently? Why can't it stay clean?? Today I went mad. These things took it's toll on me and I wanted to go away. I wanted to go to a happy place. A place where I got to be waited on and to be fed chocolate. I wanted the sun to shine on me. I wanted to feel like I had no cares in the world. I wanted a hug. When these things could not be done for me, I cried. I decided that sometimes a mom needs a time out or a 911 call to the nut house...just so I could rest. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.
1 comment:
The good news is your children should be old enough be clean up their own messes. A little iron-fisted oversight might be required, but who doesn't like whack-a-mole
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