The Chaos

When I was younger I used to call it my "nervous condition." I think I got it from a book, and I thought it was a clever way to describe my response to everything. Now that this internet thing has taken off, I've been able to research my "nervous condition" and, while the internet is not a doctor, I have half the symptoms of, like, every anxiety disorder ever.

My Thanksgiving was wonderful. I went to my brother's apt and spent it with him, Liz, Hector*, Maya*, Zoe*, and Ally*. It was so peaceful! We watched movies (Role Models, Music Within,) ate all the fuds we could stand, and just relaxed and enjoyed the company. That night, I stayed up late, as usual, crocheting, listening to Christmas music, and cuddling with Ally. I woke up early (when they got up to take the girls out) and wasn't even bothered by it! Jason and I watched another movie, Manic, while we had breakfast (leftovers, haha), and then we all went to see New Moon.

There was no fighting, nothing broke, there was no mess. It was the best Thanksgiving ever.

Then I had to come home. I wasn't on the HIGHWAY before my nervous condition flared up. I got mild chest pains, the shakes, and just generally didn't feel well. By the time I got to the house, an hour and a half later, I was in a rage. I had already been informed that Zeb had punched my parents $3K 46in  LCD flat screen television, breaking it, natch. And he wasn't in trouble. I WOULD HAVE GOTTEN THE SHIT BEAT OUT OF ME, AND HE DIDN'T EVEN GET HIS FRIEND TAKEN HOME!!!!!! The injustice and double standards infuriate me. And I know it is selfish, but these are the things that trigger my nerves!

I came in and all three kids were in the house, running amok, as per usual, and I immediately started crowd control. I don't understand why my mom let's them come over. She doesn't like having them around. Don't get me wrong, she loves them, and she loves being needed, but she doesn't want to fucking watch them. Which is why whenever I am there I am the one who does all the damn watching of them. And the putting in timeouts. And the "WHY ARE YOU DOING THATs?!"

CC is currently being potty-trained. Which means she is wearing panties and peeing in them because she won't say if she has to go to the bathroom or not, even if you ask her. This resulted in her sitting on my bed, and then peeing on my comforter that will not fit in our backup washer that we have been using since the main washer broke. We don't use the heat in our house, so now I am stuck using two thin blankets and hoping I don't freeze to death because god only knows how long it will be before I can get my comforter washed.

This was just today. Is it ANY wonder I freak out all the time?

*cat, cat, dog, dog