Funky Fresh

I'm feeling out of sorts. Yesterday I was Cranky McCrankypants, and today I seem to be walking around in a discombobulated daze. I think I need a me-day.

I look forward to the Saturday Mornings I get with Ellie. Besides the extra cash we so desperately need that Harry's overtime brings in, I get all morning with my girl. The time I get to spend alone with Ellie these days are my absolute favorite times of the week. We just click. We cuddle in front of the TV, play games, read, run around outside, scream like banshees, etc. You know, the norm mommy/daughter stuff:)

This past Saturday was no exception. Both of us were in a great mood. We even ventured out to Target to pick up a few things, and I allowed the stinker to play in the toy department for over an hour. She LOVES being the leader on shopping expeditions. And those first few aisles of Target are Toddler Heaven. Seriously.

Then Sunday comes, and all hell seems to break loose. Ellie is kind of attached to me (read "barnacle"), and if I suddenly disappear, she roams around the house, calling my name, searching every room for me. It gets to the point where I can't take a shower or get dressed or anything really without her looking for me and interrupting a few blessed moments of quiet. She only really does it if she knows I'm in the house; she doesn't do it at Teri's or if she sees me leave in my car. Basically, it boils down to if I'm under the same roof, I'm Ellie's bitch.

It's getting to me.

I love my little girl. Love her love her LOVE HER. But I need a few minutes to breathe. Yesterday, I was feeling suffocated. Add to that Harry yelling right behind Ellie's "Mommy! Mommy, where are you?" with "Leave Mommy alone!", and you have a recipe for headache central with a little added stress on the side. I wanted to shout back, "Both of you, please be quiet!"

Yeah, it's getting to me.

Between Ellie's searching, Harry's reprimanding, Ellie's whining, Harry's reprimanding, and Ellie's crying, I want to run away with the circus never to be heard from again. Instead, I go and console her because I am a sucker. I HATE to see and hear her cry. And it's not like she's fake-crying. This is all-out wailing and big, fat tears-streaming-down-her-face crying. Meanwhile, Harry just stands there. Dude, console her a little. Poor kid's upset.

Is she getting what she wants? Not really. She doesn't want to be yelled at, and she doesn't want me to console her. She wants me to play with her. She wants me to watch her build a tower. She just wants me close by.

Harry tries. He does. He'll ask her if she wants to go outside for awhile or play downstairs so I can get a break, but I hear them out there or down there, and the tension doesn't go away.

Add to that the constant cleaning and picking up, and I'm just a big angerball. And I ain't talking about Ellie. I get that I married the man knowing he's not the neatest person in the world, but damnit, he IS an adult, fully capable of cleaning up after himself. How many times do I have to clean up crumbs or sweep the floor or pick up little pieces of toilet paper that must have ripped off the roll when he was trying to get some (SERIOUSLY. Instead of throwing them away, he threw them on the floor? How lazy can you be? The garbage can is also on the floor. Aim for that).

Yeah, I'm bitching. I'm just tired.

Maybe I want to be a slob and have someone clean up after me. Time after time, I'm tempted to not pick up like I normally do so he could see what the house would be like. In the end, I just can't do it. I can't have Ellie live in clutter or filth of any kind. I just can't. So I keep picking up. I keep cleaning.

Apparently, the toilet and the shower and the sink magically clean themselves. Did you know that? And the counters wipe themselves clean. They must because my husband has only cleaned our bathroom 1 time since we moved in over a year ago and he only cleans the counter after he makes dough on it. There must be elves who do that sort of stuff for you because they end up clean at the end of the day.

Bitch, bitch, bitch. That's me Bitchy McGee.

I get pissed at myself for feeling like this. I have a pretty freakin' fantastic life. I KNOW that. I just want a little pampering from time to time. I'm a little high maintenance when it comes to being married to me. Not monetarily but emotionally. I'm hard to live with. I want things done yesterday. I want help without having to ask for it. I want to be appreciated. I want to be told I look pretty when I know I do. I want to be lavished with priase once in a while. I want to feel like an important person.