Crazy, baby.

I’m grumpy. And I don’t have a coherent thought in my brain.

The economy has forced me down to 20 hours a week at work. This doesn’t mean there’s less work to do; this just means I have to spend my four hours at top speed trying to crank through my every-issue-to-do list. It also leaves no time at all to deal with any other situations or requests that may pop up, and there are always plenty of those in a given day. Plus I’m one of those weirdos who is energized if I work through my afternoon doldrums and go a full 8 hour day. Send me home at noon and I’m a lobotomized lump around 2pm, even if I run errands or do some housework.

Why does the bathroom floor get so disgusting so fast? Is it because we don’t have an exhaust fan? I don’t remember our bathroom growing up getting so disgusting in less than a week and there were four people using it. It makes me grind my teeth.

Waking up in the morning feels like the Tin Man before he got his oil can. Lots of time on the exercise ball required to get my hips feeling adequate again.

There are never enough bowls in the cabinet. Why do we eat so many things that require bowls? Why am I becoming depressed and overwhelmed by the lifetime of dishwasher loading/emptying before me?

Why am I becoming a parent in Hawaii, home of the nation’s most lax and unenforced driving laws? I thought I was lazy because I didn’t see the sense in paying $300 for a car seat when the $90 one rated well. But here, if I called the cops on every parent pulling a Britney and driving with a toddler on their lap, I would never get off the phone. I did that while I was first here until I realized the cops don’t give a shit.

Grind, grind.

And while we’re at it, new neighbors, I understand that toddlers have tantrums and it’s best to remove them from the situation before things can really escalate. But do you have to take them outside to scream? Some of us like to keep the windows open and are irritable from having contractions for a month. And then when I hear how you deal with your kid, I spend the next hour weighing whether or not I’m going to be bad mother because I think most of the parenting I see in public is ineffective and lacking in appropriate boundary-setting follow-through. The most common responses are “ignore the behavior until it becomes intolerable to you and scream at them” and “Now, I think that’s maybe not a good idea whatever fine don’t listen to me” and you know what? Those ain’t working for ya, pal. And it doesn’t work for the kid.

But then I think, am I too mean or are they too nice? Why am I so judgmental? I’ve never wrangled toddlers at a Walmart before, how do I know mine won’t be the same holy terror I see all the time? On the other hand, I don’t believe in corporal punishment, and I can’t recall my parents EVER spanking me, but it was clear there were going to be consequences to whining and bad behavior. And you better believe we acted accordingly. And my parents seem to think we did okay behavior-wise. My mom was our primary caretaker and I never ever felt scared of her, or by her, so I know that it’s possible to enforce rules without fear. Why do I already feel guilty for knowing I’m going to be a strict mom when there isn’t anything WRONG with setting and enforcing rules? Especially when it comes to safety and teaching respect and kindness for yourself and others and your surroundings? Where are the brownies?!

I feel like I’m taking crazy pills. This is why ideally I need to work a 40-50 hour week. Too much time inside my brain is like Wonka’s river cruise.

Grind, grind.

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