I better die in the first wave

The thing is, I'm in a kind of grey space right now. Stress is high, coping is low. There isn't much joy** in life right now.

I actually realized this a few weeks ago, when I started thinking I would want to be taken in the first wave.

You know, the first wave of the alien attack* (or maybe the zombie attack?).

No sense making it through the first wave, or the second wave, and joining the resistance. Shit, I can barely cope with family life right now when I have power and modern conveniences and ready access to pharmaceuticals. Plus, I'm exhausted all the time. I can't imagine taking care of my family when we are hiding from aliens (or zombies), not to mention the total lack of wi-fi access.

I used to think that I'd be one of the strong ones in an emergency. I'm pretty self sufficient. I have the common sense. I can do things, especially if I'm told I can't. I may not be the most physically fit, but I could make do. Plus my extra insulation just meant I'd go longer if food was scarce. And fuck if I was going to let the aliens win. Or the zombies. Or the Republicans.

But lately, the grey is heavier. And I started thinking that if there is no joy, why would I really want to go to all that trouble? And why would I want to drag Noah through it, when it would be a world even more chaotic than he deals with now?

At least when I'm lying awake because I can't turn my thoughts off I have new topics to obsess over. Less boredom, more morbidity.

I probably should call that number my therapist gave me. I might need a bit of a pharmaceutical tweak.

 *Thanks to the TNT summer series Falling Skies for this morbid train of thought. Loved the show though, even if I won't be fighting next to Noah Wyle!

**I wrote this last night. Sometimes before I go to bed I write my best stuff. Sometimes it's the craziest. You can decide what this post is. The fact that I wrote this at all is actually making me laugh right now. So maybe I do have a bit of joy in me, even if it is twisted at the moment. I mean really, aliens and zombies? Shit, it really is the Republicans we need to be scared of.

Unless they were taken over by the aliens...

A Recipe for a Pissed Off Mom

Take weeks of trying to get Noah off one med and onto another one so he's not really controlled on anything yet and is riding a thin line of mania mixed with mean and nasty.

And then add in a good dose of Mommy and her fucking hormones because apparently my normal level of craziness isn't enough, so we had to add in perimenopause.

Then throw in a pinch of Noah deciding to take two packs of gum from the store yesterday via his pocket, and then lie to us about it when Rich found it.

Mix in a good dose of two boys waking up three times between them during the night.

And let it slow simmer on a rainy Saturday when Rich is at work and all the boys do is fight, wrestle, and say NO to me.

And there you have it! A big pot of Bitch Ass Mommy is not Taking Any Shit.

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You might say I'm struggling with the whole therapeutic parenting bit the last few days.