I miss blogging. I miss writing. I miss being a size five.
In case I haven’t told you lately,(and I don’t think I have so you’re due to hear it again) I hate these medications I’m on.(mood stabilizer and antidepressants) Not only have they silence my words and held my thoughts hostage- they’ve also made me jump three dress/pants sizes. They’ve turned me into someone I’m not. Someone passive, quite and well, enjoyable. Makes you want to run out and get ya some huh?
Writing use to be something I did on a daily basis. Something I did out of both enjoyment and necessity. There wasn’t an option, I was going to write because I loved it. I’d get up at night after the monster had fallen asleep and sit on the couch in the dim-lit living room with the only sound being that of my fingers hitting the key board. Now, I stay my ultra large ass in bed because I seem to have no motivation. I seem to be a blank off white canvas with no color or design, nothing extraordinary to talk about. My thoughts are literally being held captive by this medication that seems to work wonders on my mood (thank God) yet is wrecking everything else.
Fact of the matter is this; The medication is working wonders. My mood has improved drastically, my depression (despite from dwelling over my weight) is gone. Therefore, I can bitch about it all I want, but in the end I do know it’s doing exactly what it’s suppose to. The combination is what I’ve been in search of for years, but in case you have realized by now- I can always find something to bitch about, it’s what I do–I’m a bitcher, so just buckle yourself in and hold on tight.
Things on the parenting/home front have been quite, much to my likely. Max hasn’t attempted to smuggle anymore toys from the school via his Mickey Mouse underwear and I haven’t secretly threatened anyone’s kid for fucking with mine. (because let’s just be honest, you know I have in the past) Yeah, I’m that kind of awesome parent.
The monster and I made a plan at the beginning of the week to read at least one book a night. Since reading is such a big deal in a child’s development especially at the age he is right now I decided I’d better step it up. A little back ground (here comes the bitching) I hate to read! I hope by starting this at a young age Max won’t develop the same hatred for books that his lovely mother has but instead grow to appreciate and love literature. So far we’ve done well, we’ve read a book every night since Monday with the exception of last night when we just lost track of time. He’s eager to pick the book and happy to sit and listen while I read, the only problem? He wants me to read the book at least three times. Yes, that’s over and over and fucking over again. It’s fabulous, but then again—so is motherhood!
Here’s looking towards the weekend, my friends. Happy Parenting!