The deMented Mom

I dare any of you to deny it. I don't care how many of you declare that your family/kids/husband/dog/friends blah, blah, blah, come first, you are full of shit. We are individuals. We journey into this world alone and we leave it alone. It's all about survival. We are biological entities whose main interest is survival above all else. Of course I love my husband and kids; I love them more than anything. I would gladly take a bullet for any of them without a second thought. But my husband has this irritating habit of frequently stating "It's not all about you, you know". I usually take this bit of criticism, flip him the bird (in my mind) and humbly acknowledge that nothing is about me at all and how could I be so selfish as to consider my self interests at all. So today I snapped. When did my Person Card expire? When I got married? When I had children? When I was born a girl in the first place? Ok, maybe I'm a bit of a navel gazer. I'm not above ...

Me: Do you think they have 'family' rooms on the psychiatric unit? DH: Who in the hell would want to room with their family? When I lose my shit I'm going into seclusion

I realized something that took me by surprise last week. We were away camping and despite my good intentions I only managed a 12k and a 6k tempo run for the entire week. (I biked and swam but the perfectionist in me figures this doesn't count). By the end of that week, I felt jittery, irritable, jumpy and just plain shitty. I could not figure out what my problem was. Not PMS, not alcohol withdrawal (though camping does entail a bit of imbibing) and something a bit more than just plain bitchiness. Holy crap, I was actually going through exercise withdrawal. I mean, I had heard other runners talking about the 'runner's high' and being 'addicted' to the sport but I really didn't pay much attention to it...everyone tends to wax prosaic about their chosen obsession. A quick Google search came up with scads of articles debating whether or not this 'addiction-withdrawal' phenomenon actually exists. A great article in the Science Daily published in Ma...

I realized something that took me by surprise last week. We were away camping and despite my good intentions I only managed a 12k and a 6k tempo run for the entire week. (I biked and swam but the perfectionist in me figures this doesn't count). By the end of that week, I felt jittery, irritable, jumpy and just plain shitty. I could not figure out what my problem was. Not PMS, not alcohol withdrawal (though camping does entail a bit of imbibing) and something a bit more than just plain bitchiness. Holy crap, I was actually going through exercise withdrawal. I mean, I had heard other runners talking about the 'runner's high' and being 'addicted' to the sport but I really didn't pay much attention to it...everyone tends to wax prosaic about their chosen obsession. A quick Google search came up with scads of articles debating whether or not this 'addiction-withdrawal' phenomenon actually exists. A great article in the Science Daily published in Ma...

Well I spent the day at the mall with my two daughters on that eagerly awaited yearly jaunt to hemorrhage money on those 'back-to-school' outfits that they "have to have" and end up languishing in the closet because they are too uncomfortable/short/long/tight/loose/scratchy/dorky, to be worn. I LOVE to shop. It's my Valium washed down with a Cosmo, I swear. Shopping with a pre-pubescent Miley Cyrus wanna-be and a 13 year old who seriously thinks her mother is beyond redemption is not my favorite way to part with my cash but a necessary evil forced upon me as penance for the torture I inflicted on MY parents. Apparently I'm not one of the lucky ones with horseshoes up my ass. Casually flipping through the clothing I had this flash of deja vu...I looked up and around the store-Leggings, big sweaters and sweatshirts, flannel shirts, hip slung belts, ankle boots, wristlet purses, LEG WARMERS, short jackets and skinny jeans. The only thing missing were sequine...