Bummer

Just can’t seem to get my give-a-damn up and running. Don’t know if the girl’s teething is starting to wear me down—constant runny diapers, fits of rage that spring from seemingly nowhere when her teeth start bothering her all of a sudden, or perhaps just when she decides she can’t take it anymore. Could be that I’m tired of constantly feeling like a failure of  a parent since my son can’t go a freaking week at school without getting on yellow, much less red. It’s gotten such that now, instead of asking if, tomorrow when he behaves can he [insert reward here—play video games, watch a movie, whatever], he asks  if tomorrow when he gets in trouble, will he get a spanking or will he write sentences.

I’m bone weary and I know I have no right to complain since I just had an entire week off. I know that I’m very lucky to have the job I have and I’m even more lucky to have the children and husband I have.

I just don’t know why I’m so funky lately, and not in the funky-chicken kind of way.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m one of those folks who has S.A.D. I’ve always kind of blew that off as bullshit, but this year I’m really thinking that maybe it’s the real deal. Either that, or genetic code is finally kicking in and I’m coming into my family’s store of crazy bi-polar/manic-depressive/whatever. Either way, it sucks.

Wish I had time to exercise so I’d be able to get some endorphins, which might make things a little better. Wish I ever had more than an hour or two at most when I wasn’t inside during the little bit of sunlight we have this time of year.

Wish I just cared a little more.