Never mind that it’s been raining here for the last 20 days straight, I’m being deluged with the small and tormenting vicissitudes of life, and I’m getting ready to give up and let myself drown at the bottom of the laundry pile.
My husband is in Denmark. I miss him. I’m absolutely know he’s working terribly hard, but why can’t I ever work in Denmark? I’m just saying…
My oldest son is at Scout Camp, and it feels like I’ve lost my right arm. He was my lieutenant commander this summer. I not only miss his help, but I miss his company.
The day after they both left, the entire household fell sick, including me. We are currently all lying around, having watched 10 hours of television, eaten delivered food, and taken sundry medications to allay our symptoms. Three year old children with chest colds are not that delightful to be around when your own head is beating out of its skull.
And did I mention the rain? It feels like we’ve moved to the Northwest.
A great friend of mine dropped off some Ben and Jerry’s ice cream the day my husband left, and I haven’t felt like eating it! I had envisioned sending all the kids to bed, climbing in my own bed with a book, and eating the entire pint. What deprivation I’ve endured to have the ice cream in my freezer and not feel the slightest inclination to eat it!
I think the very worst part of the week is that all this whining doesn’t actually make me feel any better, it just makes me feel like a whiner. Dang. I was hoping a good tantrum might make it all better. Maybe I’ll just try some sleep.
Is there ever a place for a tantrum? And will it ever be a satisfying one?
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