I keep telling you my life is crazy. I don't think anyone believes that because life is always crazy; everybody has problems. So here's a small portion of yesterday:
It was second son's birthday. He turned 21.
I started baking.
Boys came home from school. The only day youngest son got a perfect conduct score was the day his eye swelled shut and I rushed him to the doctor after 2 1/2 hours of class. The other child isn't doing classwork or homework. I lost my shit and yelled until both were in tears.
Husband comes home. He hates his job. He is stressing. He isn't dealing with anything very well. Long story short, we got into an argument.
Rattle snake bit dog in the face. Husband kills snake. I rush dog to vet.
A hoard of people come over to celebrate 21st birthday. While I am gone, menu is changed, groceries bought, oldest son grills because he's trying to make up for taking car without permission then getting wrong key stuck in ignition, husband finished cake, and younger boys manage to sneak in extra TV time.
I come home without dog, toddler gets sprayed in the face with cleanser because no one is watching children, we have too much food, adults get drunk, husband and I spend an hour cleaning kitchen, I crawl into bed to deal with 12 Facebook notifications about the dog and remember I forgot to send an email regarding my art. I realize I didn't sew. I realize I didn't do anything to promote my art. Feel like failure.
And that's a typical day for me- lots of rushing, screaming, something weirdly unexpected, and feelings of inadequate crushing disappointment.
I am very surprised I ever post anything.