Yep

Yep, still pissed - hurt, bleeding, and pissed. Quit raggin' on me about my BASIC PERSONALITY!

I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy... but maybe people just suck

Warning - if you were looking for the holiday spirit, you better go read my sister Sue's blog post, which is awesome. Very much in the holiday spirit, the true meaning of Christmas. I, on the other hand, have probably done nearly everything you are NOT supposed to do on her holiday do's and dont's list: overspent on Christmas presents, yelled at someone in customer service (I am ashamed, truly... I told the poor guy on the phone at amazon.com to "shut up" when he was trying to talk to me like I was a two-year-old, sheez, but I probably deserved it), and generally not made a very big effort to help my family focus on Christ this year. What happened? I don't know.

Let me steal from a post I started and never finished, entitled, "There Are Aliens in My Brain... or maybe I just have Woman Brain." Huh?! It meant that my brain was overactive, alive with a thousand possibilties. Sometimes, I just take on a lot of stuff, like I can think of 20 things to do, for every minute where I can only do one. It's multi-tasking on speed. It's nuts, but I've lived the alternative, vegetating with no purpose, just passing time, trying to foreget my resposibilities and whatever constructive thing I could be doing with my life, just because I can't deal with some big issue, or there are things I am avoiding. I mean just sitting on the couch, reading novels for days on end, barely cooking mac and cheese for the family and the kids have been wearing the same clothes for two or three days straight. I can't go back to that depressed, useless state, I just can't. And I know this over-scheduling isn't all that great either, but I can't go back to who I was five months ago. It's like Matt 12:43-45 -
43 When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest, and findeth none.
44 Then he saith, I will return into my house from whence I came out; and when he is come, he findeth it empty, swept, and garnished.
45 Then goeth he, and taketh with himself seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter in and dwell there: and the last state of that man is worse than the first. Even so shall it be also unto this wicked generation.

I swept out and cleaned my house, so to speak, and filled it up with a monkey-load of new tenants, so the old garbage couldn't come back. But boy, howdy, did I fill it up with new tenants, and while they don't create the nasty environment the old tenants did, it's just that I have trouble managing the new tenants. But I'm glad to have a noisy, boisterous house full of new guests. At least they don't make me wish I was dead, and beg God to replace me.

But I had a bit of that old feeling return last night, when I'm trying to get everything ready to get out of town, pay the bills, get the laundry clean, etc., and I'm getting reamed out by several of my family members, because I'm taking too long. "When are we leaving?!!!!" It's a version of ,"Are we there yet?" I've delegated as much as I can, and I'm glad they were all willing to help, so don't yell at me that I didn't delegate, because I did. And also don't yell at me because I chose too much to do. I had my activities pared down to the BARE minimums - clothing, food for the baby, pay the essential bills, and pack my laptop (don't give me any crap, that task only took me five minutes, anyway!) It's just that NO ONE in my house has a brain for the details. Seriously! I could remember that baby needs formula, or that the dvd player needs the ac cord, or that the bills should be paid so that there aren't horrendous late fees and dings on our credit report, it's always something, so why do they allow themselves to get so stressed out, when it's like this every time? They don't want to take care of the details, they couldn't possibly remember them, because their brains just aren't wired for the details, and I gave away as many tasks as I could think of. Okay, seriously, Zen wants me to make a WRITTEN checklist of things that need to go into the church bag every Sunday so we can get out the door faster. It's a good idea, I know, but it tells you how little the male brain is wired for the details. Every Sunday I don't check, something essential gets left behind (no baby bottle, no spit rag, etc.), so it's a thousand little experiences like that over the last 15 years, that have led me to try to track it all myself, because I know they just can't do it. So, anyway, I get reamed out last night, and I'm just standing there, in an almost-catatonic state, so overcome with hurt, because I've been trying like crazy ALL DAY LONG to get everything done for everyone (do they not know I take care of so much for THEM?!!!), and yes I delegated a lot, so don't yell at me (Sue) that I don't delegate enough. And all of a sudden it just seemed so useless and pointless, and I just wanted to curl up in a ball and lie there for five days. I almost didn't go, I just wanted to be alone for five days and not try to be with people. But I dragged out the last shred of giving that I had left in me, and packed my own bag, and got myself in the car. I've come out of it a little, and have tried to function today, but I am still bleeding and wish that I could just be alone for a few days.

Sorry I came back to blogging with something not-very-positive, but I write more when I have issues to discuss. Whatever, I'm out. But if you need a giggle or two, like I did tonight, go read these two blog posts from a guy named Dug, which I found linked from Sue's blog, Bad Boo and Open Mic Day, which is a blogging classic.

I Can't Take It Anymore!

You have no idea how many times I have had the thought cross my mind during my busy, busy days, "I have to blog about this!", and I've missed writing a lot of cute little family stories, little memories that I'm sure won't come back to me. I swear my brain is swiss cheese. Where have I been? What have I been doing? I've been working furiously on my eBay store. No, there are practically no rewards to show for it yet, but they're coming, they're coming. It's why I've practically dropped off the face of the earth. Maybe my rocks and sand have gotten mixed up. You know, that cute little visual aid at church somebody pops out with every now and then: You can fit more in a jar if you put the big rocks in first, then pour the sand around it, than if you put the sand in first and try to fit the big rocks on top. It's supposed to be symbolic of getting your priorities straight. "Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives..." Oh, wait, that's a soap opera! Never mind! I haven't been that much of a heathen since I was at college. Anyway, a lot of the things I enjoy, and probably should be doing, like reading and commenting on the family blogs, and writing my own posts, have gone by the wayside lately, and I just can't stand it anymore!

I was sitting tonight watching the church's Christmas broadcast, with all my heathens around me acting like a bunch of monkeys (aren't we glad we could watch it on tv, and not try to keep everyone reverent at the stake center?). After the prayer, some remarks, and a song or two, Zen wants to tell everyone the poem he learned as a kid, and was reminded of on the wall of the port-a-potty at Man Camp. I'll spare you the crudity here, but Zen said it was poetry, and I said, "Sheer poetry!" (Go watch Christmas Story.) Gil was hacking his lungs out, and begging to go take a Mucinex. Zen said, "Okay, but you can't have TWO Spongebob [disposable] cups!" This makes everyone laugh, including me (I'm trying to be reverent and listen, you heathens!!) Not a few minutes later, Gil is wrestling with Connor on the floor, and while Connor is punching his back, Gil says, "Work on my glutes a little!" Zen tries to round them up, and five minutes later he and Gil are play-punching each other on the couch. Gil figures out how to make Baby Emma giggle, and Dani has to get in on the action, and invents her own peekaboo game to make Emma laugh some more. There was a talk where the speaker (Elder Eyring?) talked about someone visiting a poor family, and there was a little boy who just wanted a big bowl of oatmeal for Christmas because he was so hungry all the time. Zen turned to Gil and Dani and said, "Why can't you just want a bowl of oatmeal for Christmas?" Hmmm... Maybe they'll all get packets of instant oatmeal in their stockings. I can just see it now. It'll be this "thing" we do every Christmas, in lieu of coal... By this time, Connor has snuck off to play with his trains, and I try to sing the hymns at the top of my lungs to drown everyone else out (Sue, aren't you glad you weren't here?!) Oh, brother! But you know what? I loved it. I thought, "Here I am, surrounded by all my heathens who are making me laugh, instead of having a marvelously glorious spiritual experience. But they are MY heathens, and I'll take them as they are." It may have not been very spiritual (although I did have tears in my eyes from the family antics), but I felt a great deal of love for my family, and gratitude for the goodness of our lives.

I'll leave it at that, but pics are coming, the pics are coming, I promise!