A Surprisingly Sane Blog

Great.  Just fucking great.

My brilliant 3-year-old just got into the homeopathic medicines sitting on my nightstand and downed them.  I had to call poison control, and they told me that it shouldn’t be too much of a problem because the particular medicines she took (kid’s cold and flu stuff and teething tablets) have such low dosages of the active ingredients that they won’t do any real harm.

Except for the fact that my kid is all loopy and flying high now.  And I’m about ready to rip my hair out of my head clump by clump.

I know.  I’m a shitty ass parent.  And why the HELL were medicines within the reach of my daughter in the first place, you ask?  Go ahead, just say it.  I should be thrown in jail and my kids should be taken by CPS.  I was never cut out to be a mom, anyway, so it’s just as well.

In my own defense, the teething tablets and cold medicine were on my nightstand because the kids weren’t feeling well last night.  I kept the meds within reach should I have to get up and give them some in the middle of the night.  And then I forgot to move them because we’ve been busy running around nonstop and the kids have been absolutely awful for two days straight and OHMYGAWDI’MGOINGTOFREAKINGFLIPOUTTODAY.

I would like to die right now.  Thank you in advance to the brave soul who faces a lifetime in prison for doing the honors.

Current Mood: Alarmed

I was folding a mountain of clothes last night when I shuddered because I realized I was resisting the urge to make sure that there wasn’t a single wrinkle stuck under the folds of my daughters’ clothing.

I’m particular about folding.  And the order inside my cabinets.  Luckily, I take a little pill or two for that.  But it doesn’t stop the fact that the urge is still inside of me to spend 20 minutes smoothing out my daughter’s Ariel panties because by gawd, my world will come crashing down should a fold be hiding in that pile of toddler underwear.

I always joke about the fact that I wish I were obsessive-compulsive in a “cleaning” sort of way, but really, I know that wouldn’t be any better.  I’m extremely anal retentive about objects behind closed doors- such as my dishes and silverware and covered bookcases- but the crap left out in plain sight is difficult for me.  I don’t know where to start with it, and I get this panicky twinge from deep inside when I see clutter.  I always try to fix it, but for some reason I can’t seem to get it cleaned up when I’m have a bad OCD spell.  Really, it’s because I have this weird habit of getting distracted from one mess to another, so I end up leaving piles of both messes in plain sight.  It’s frustrating and stupid, but like the wrinkles in a basket of laundry, I can’t seem to get past it sometimes.

Luckily, with the help of medication, I can function without making sure all the glasses in my cupboards are spaced exactly the same distance apart.  When I think about this particular aspect of my mental illness logically, it all seems so freaking stupid.

But on the days when I can’t get anything accomplished because I can’t get rid of those wrinkles in a pair of panties… well, I have a lot of trouble thinking logically.

Today is one of those days.

Be very, very glad you’re not me.

Current Mood: Alarmed