Yes, I'm a little extra bitchy lately

...and I'm tired of apologizing for it, I'm tired of downplaying it, I'm just plain tired.  So I'm just going to go ahead and lay it all out.  Now you know and there's no reason to ask me "are you ok?" or "why are you acting like this?"

*  I hate winter.  With a seething passion.  I'm tired of being cold.  I'm tired of sweaters and boots.  Beyond over wrestling a coat onto Harlow every time we have to leave the house.  I understand that for some people this is just an annoyance- but it's honestly traumatic for me.  Every winter, it's the same thing.  Every year it gets a little harder to cope with.  I'm at the point where I really do feel like I'm going to crack and kill someone, just so I can climb inside them to keep warm.  I want to hide until the sun comes back out and I can wear sandals again.

*  My baby is sick and nobody can tell me why.  Everyone just refers her to someone else.  Pediatrician to dietitian.  Dietitian to rehabilitative services.  Rehab to Gastro.  Who know where we'll go next?  I doubt they'll know either.  I know I'm tired of it.  Just tell me why my baby can't safely drink anything.  Just tell me why it hurts her to eat.  For the love of god, please tell me why this is going on?  She's so skinny and I feel so bad.  It doesn't even have a name, it's just a bizarre collection of symptoms that don't quite fit together.  So I can't even say "Harlow has XXXXX, so we will go to the doctor who specializes in XXXXX and s/he will tell me what to do to either cure or at least manage XXXXX"

*  I think the big kids must be stir crazy.  At least this is what I'm telling myself, because the alternative is "my kids are evil demons from hell that must be destroyed for the safety of all humanity."  As you can see, "stir crazy" has a better ring to it.  They don't even try to listen to anything we tell them anymore- I can't wait until I can just throw them outside and tell them to come back in the fall.  (literally, Tori lives outside all summer- that girl can't get enough of sidewalk chalk and bubbles!)

*  I need a vacation.  Like a real family vacation.  Because of Lonnie's schedule, we've never had one, I've taken the kids to Canada, SC, and WV multiple times by myself.  I'm sick of it- I want us all to get away for a while- but with him just (maybe?) starting a new job today, I don't see it in the cards for a long time still.  Not to mention, with Harlow having therapy every Friday, plus there are other appointments that will be coming up that we need to work around.... grrr.... I just want to see the ocean again; is that too much to ask?

So I think that sums it up.  Yes, I snapped at you the other day.  No, I probably won't return your phone call right now.  I am aware that I'm being an anti-social a-hole.  I'm ok with it.  This is how I deal with shit.

Oh, one funny-ish thing did happen this week...

Harlow and I were at the thrift store (because it's my favorite store ever!) and we accidentally went on "Senior Discount Day" OMG- that is a mistake I will NEVER make again.  We were probably stopped by little old ladies every 10 feet who wanted to poke at her and tell me all about their grandchildren.  Due to my state of increased bitchiness, I also am afflicted with low tolerance for irritation- a dangerous combination.  Anyway....

Little Old Lady #72: "Oh what a cute baby!  She's just the prettiest thing I've ever seen!"

me: "Thank you" and I try to keep walking, quickly

#72: (grabs cart to steady self while I pray she doesn't fall and break a hip- because honestly, I'd probably laugh and then the whole world would know what an asshole I am)
         "How'd you get such a pretty baby?"

me: (ok, am I being accused of stealing this child?  Am I so ugly I couldn't possibly have a cute child?  What exactly are you questioning here you old bat?)
         "Oh she looks like her dad"

At this point, I'm hoping this is the end of the conversation and the dinosaur will go away... BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE...

#72:  "Well, you're lucky to have an attractive husband so that you get a beautiful baby like this"  and she walks away.

Now I'm the one left shaking my head, trying to make sense out of this.  What the hell did that mean?  I know I'm no supermodel, but seriously?  Half the moms I see when we go out are wearing pajama pants and sweatshirts.  My hair and makeup were done, I wasn't dressed up, but I looked ok.  What the hell just happened?

That's my week.  Sick baby. Bratty big kids.  Much stress and annoyance.  I need a drink.....