So I had some time off work recently (by time I mean a day or two when TSMA wasn't talking to me, I worked nights, and the kids were with their dad) and I cleaned my house. I mean CLEANED. It was fucking spotless. I washed all the floors, bleached all the toilets and food contact surfaces (which being the mother of 2 boys and a very tom-boyish girl, sometimes includes the toilets). I washed, dried and FOLDED all the fucking laundry. I found clothes I didn't realize I still owned. I found underwear that I'm pretty sure got stashed and hidden for the shit stains, shoved under beds (no, they were not mine, I think they belonged to the 5 year old that still can't wipe his own ass). Anyway, I did all this in about 6 hours before work one day. Then I came home, had 18 hours off and have worked 7am-5pm every day since.

My point is, my house, in all that time I haven't been home, is a mother fucking shithole. I found a God damned chicken wing, A PIECE OF POULTRY, in my kid's bed today. I washed those sheets a week ago and we haven't eaten chicken wings in months. WHERE THE FUCK DID IT COME FROM??? Did it stick to my North Face while running the line check at work and I failed to notice it for something like 9 hours before I got home? And if it was stuck to me, did none of the shit bricks I work with feel it necessary to let me know??? I mean, seriously, some of those assholes walk in back with a third pan of fucking ranch dressing down their aprons and legs and they can't tell ME, their boss, that I have a God damned appendage of a fucking bird stuck to my boob or ass or muffin top??? Jesus fucking Christ.

Oh and it gets better. I walked into my bathroom tonight to turn on my tub, praying the whole 23 steps there that I would have hot water (my water temperature regulator thingy isn't working properly) and I sat my cell phone on my bathroom counter and I pulled my hand back in actual DISGUST because the counter was so caked in toothpaste and apparently all the fucking hair I lose daily, that I didn't want to set it down (keep in mind, I've dropped my phone in a toilet mid sentence while pissing and reached in and picked it up and continues my conversation-OKAY, this only happened once and yes, there was A LOT of liquor involved). ANYWAY, what the fuck??? I basically detailed this bathroom a week ago. And I am the only one that uses it. When the Hell did I start going bald? I mean, There is A LOT of hair on my head, but based on the amount accumulated on my counter after a week, you'd think Chewbacca was shaved bald in my fucking sink.

Then I walked out of there, toothbrush in hand, planning to spit in the snow drifts outside and wash my mouth out with (what I'm sure would be yellow) snow, I stumbled over piles of dirty laundry in my bedroom. I LITERALLY washed every single piece of clothing not on a hanger or in a drawer this last week. So tell me why I am getting my feet caught in the sleeves of shirts and leg holes of underwear STREWN across my bedroom right now?

I crawled into bed, just after all this, thinking I would deal with it all whenever I get a day off, and as I straightened out my sheets my foot got caught on something that wouldn't free me and I couldn't move my leg more than 6 inches or so and it threw me into a complete panic. As I kicked and writhed against the stupid ass monster that was clearly trying to take my life, I thought about what it could be. Was I going to miss my kids' growing up because a Sasquatch was about to devour me? Was it because one of my turd faced kids became a zombie and is about to start knawing at my flesh? I reach towards my leg, still kicking violently, when I realize The Beast Below is a pair of fucking underwear TSMA slid off of me like, a decade ago, in, you know...the MOMENT or whatever. But shit, Martha! I've washed my sheets since then! Many times!

Where in the Hell are all these chicken wing, love panty, Yeti hair, bombs of filth coming from???

Anyway, my name is Kate and I handle your food. In a much more sanitary environment than this, so explain to me what the actual FUCK happens in my house when I'm not here.

Life is Stupid Sometimes...

I've hit that weird place recently where I sometimes fall and cannot get myself out of (yes, I heard the old lady with the Life Alert thingy when I wrote that, too). I am currently sitting in bed and until I grabbed my laptop was staring blankly at the television which I had the Disney movie Brave playing one. Yes, I am at home, alone, in bed watching children's movies...or...staring at them blankly. Anyway, I've had a lot of...just...shit happening lately. Between work and home, it has become overwhelming. I sat and brainstormed ways I could off myself this last weekend in a way that wouldn't permanently damage my kids. The biggest pulling factor to stay alive was knowing they'd end up in full custody of my ex-husband and with the irrational choices he's been making lately, it was just too terrifying to actually go through with the crashing my car into a brick wall, or whatever other crazy ideas that crossed my mind. Then I sat and thought about ways in which I could have myself committed for something other than being a nut job, because I'm not actually bat shit crazy, I just...I'm exhausted. With everything. With life. With not knowing where my life is going. With trying to work and be a mom my kids can be proud to call so, and a daughter and an ex wife that isn't a total and utter cunt, and being a girlfriend that doesn't get terrified of all these things and then act like a passive aggressive nasty little woman even she doesn't recognize.

I don't know how to get all these things in place and lately I feel like I don't have control over any of them. I don't know where my life is going. I don't know if I even like my job, the job I so loved a year ago. I can't define the type of mom I want to be in terms specific enough for my own satisfaction. I have this idea of how I want to influence my kids and who I want to be for them, but I cannot find a way to do this for them and it MAKES. ME. CRAZY. They are only so moldable and influenced for so long before they see us as sad, old, stupid adults. I cannot lose these precious years I have with them that are quickly coming to an end.

 I sadly don't care what kind of daughter or sister I am anymore because that whole...situation...infuriates me...beyond anything I could ever describe. I keep trying, so hard, to be the ex spouse I want to have as my own...but as it was in our marriage, he remains exactly the same selfish, thoughtless prick he always was and believes, somehow, the fact that he's now found another (very kind) woman to take the responsibilities he had to pick up when I left him...I can't even talk about it because the level of selfishness and stupidity he has risen to the last few weeks makes me ill.

 Finally, the way TSMA and I communicate sometimes is just...it's stupid. We each have these lives we're trying to live and trying to incorporate the other into when we can and that leads us to spend time apart and when we're apart, he gets distant and I get in my head. Then I try to express my feelings without being a twat and they never come out the way I want and he gets defensive and analyzes and...it's just not good. Fortunately it doesn't happen all that frequently, but its frequent enough for me that I want to find a way for us to do this part of our relationship better. There's not a reason we can't. It's weirdly our only fault as far as coupledom goes. (Yep. We're just that awesome.)

So, I am just over life right now, as it is. It can change, it can not. I must have said the serenity prayer 123,453 times in the last week. Serenity, courage and wisdom. Yet, I still can't find a way to accept anything for what it is, I don't know how to change it and I feel like a big, dumb, fuck for that.

Oh yeah...and remember it's now winter in Chicagoland. We all know what a ray of fucking sunshine that makes me.