“Shut-It, You Crazy Lady!”

…I said to myself.

Unfortunately, I ignore myself just as well as I would ignore a perfect stranger saying this to me.

*sigh*

I have never claimed to be sane. Not even close. It is actually the opposite. I know I am crazy. I know I am difficult. But, I am what I am…the bad comes along with the good. Yeah, I might be able to keep the house in order, the kid alive and put in a full day at the office. But that doesn’t come without its fair share of ‘trying to do too much at once’ induced meltdowns.

Lucky for me, I married a man who knows this. Not to say he didn’t have his fingers crossed behind his back during the part of our vows about loving ALL of me. I wouldn’t blame him for that. But he knows this, and so far, he accepts it.

However, I try to reign-in the crazy.

I really do.

I will simultaneously tell myself to shut-it while I’m caught in one of my infamous I’m-mad-for-nothing-you-did-but-because-I’m-a-greedy-control-freak-lady rants. And, without fail…I will ignore myself and keep on going.

Sure, I have a smidge of justification for what I’m saying. But nine times out of ten, I am just blowing things out of proportion because that’s just what I do. I can take myself from perfectly happy and content to frustrated to downright pissed in a matter of minutes.

What’s worse is that I can FEEL it. I know it’s coming. I try to fight it.

But I am at the mercy of my wack-a-doodle hormones (definitely the hormones, not me).

It plays out a little something like this (yes, I am fully aware of just how bipolar this makes me sound…and that this is a common theme in my posts…but I choose to overlook that for now):

Crazy Kelly: Ugh, stupid AT&T why the HELL doesn’t my phone work from our bedroom?!

Sane Kelly: eh, no biggie – I’ll call mom back later when I have a free minute to stand in the foyer and talk.

Crazy Kelly With A Handful Of Dirty Glasses: There are clothes scattered in the living room….agh…

Sane Kelly: no worries – you’ll have this place spotless in half an hour and can relax the rest of the night. Just don’t think about it too much.

Crazy Kelly That Just Tripped Over A Flip-Flop And Landed On The Coffee Table: WHAT THE HELL! How hard is it to kick your shoes off by the door!?

Sane Kelly That Is Now Slightly Irritated: Breathe…I’ll come up with a nice, productive way of asking him not to leave shoes on the floor.

Crazy Kelly With A New Bruise On The Shin And Arms Full Of Dirty Clothes And Last Nights Wine Glasses With A Crying Baby Who Got Woken Up When Mommy Started Screaming (refer to the previous “Crazy Kelly” for reference): THAT’S IT! HE CAN WASH HIS OWN DAMN CLOTHES!!

Not-So-Sane Kelly, She Is A Coward And Is Hiding From Crazy Kelly: *crickets*

…about this time is when Christian comes home…

Crazy Kelly Who Just Dropped Easton’s Bottle On The Ground: AGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! *CRAPPY PHONES AND CLOTHES AND BILLS AND I BROKE MY NAIL* AGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Sane Kelly Peeping Out From Under The Covers: Shut-it, you crazy lady!!

Crazy Kelly (Ignoring Sane Kelly) Who Is Cleaning Up Milk And Is Now Crying Because She Is Totally Aware Of How Crazy She Sounds And Doesn’t Quite Know Why She’s So Mad In The First Place: BooHooooHoooAhhhBaaaaHaaaaHooooHumnmm (totally what I sound like when I’m crying, BTW). Easton is hungry and I spilled his milk and I’m the worst mom ever. I don’t spend enough time with him. He’s not going to love me! BoooHoooHooo

Baffled Christian: It’s okay baby, don’t cry over spilled milk.

Whew…that wore you out too, didn’t it?

That is just a hypothetical example. No really, it is.

But it’s pretty close to how it all goes down. And I’m hoping some of you can relate to this. Maybe not quite to this extent…but to some degree. Because I’d like to think that the female hormones are largely to blame and I can’t be held fully responsible for all this crazy.

AGHH!!!

AGHH!!!

That’s just too much crazy for one person.

 

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4 thoughts on ““Shut-It, You Crazy Lady!”

  1. I currently have a bruise on the top of my hand from packing up the house in two days and doing it all at mac speed. Not to mention my bloody gash on my face, which made me cry. OH, and I freaked out on Peter whether or not he was taking a shower at night or in the morning so I could plan accordingly to super clean every spot……maybe it is genetic and it is not our fault…

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