i must be getting sick

I'm easily agitated these days.

It really doesn't take much to get under my skin.

So yesterday morning when I woke up after having just changed all the sheets on the beds in the house the night before, to clean sheets that had poop smears all over them, because one of my children REFUSES to go poop in the potty and instead inspects the content of their bottom and then RUBS their hands all over their sheets, comforter and pillows, I lost it a little bit.

I told my child that if they didn't complete the rest of their pooping in the potty, I was going to give them an enema. And four hours later, that's exactly what I did, despite the worst fit I've ever seen my child throw in their entire life. And I learned a few very important lessons about giving an enema to a child that hasn't had a complete evacuation in probably the last 14 months.

First, even though the box says that the urge to go will be extremely great after a mere five minutes, don't be surprised if you have a head-strong four-year-old that they will hold it for fifty five minutes, which I can only suspect contributes more to the laxative effect.

Second, when that first slug of poop comes out, and you might think that it's over?

It's not over.

Not by a loooong shot.

Third, it's best not to put a child who has just had an enema in your bed to take a nap. Because the chances are quite great that it will look like a poop bomb went off in your pristine bedroom and bathroom. And when you are on your hands and knees scrubbing poop off the floor and poop fingerprints off your cabinets and sink and walls, you will shake your fist at what was probably Karma.

So today, we decided to get rid of our old couch that we've had for the past 12 years. And I'm not sure what really came over me us, but once we moved our old couch out in to the garage and were trying to figure out what we would put in it's place, we were struck with an insatiable desire to shake things up.

The layout of our house was designed so that we could have a living room, dining room, nook and family room. This configuration would work great if only one or two people lived here and you had teeny tiny furniture. Even when there were only two of us, I've never really liked that this house has so many small rooms. And I particularly never liked the six foot by seven foot space that was slated by the builders as a "dining room."

For who?

ELVES?

After five hours of moving furniture and another five hours spent at a furniture store to select a sideboard and media center that will be delivered within the next month (Merry Christmas to us! Our shopping for each other is done!), what was once our family room has now been transformed in to our spacious dining room. And what was once our dining room and living room is now our spacious family room. Suddenly, instead of having four small rooms, we have two HUGE rooms.

I have a new found love for this house which is good because to move right now would be financial suicide. I also have a crick in my neck from exerting myself so completely today and a dent in my wallet from making a few purchases to compliment our new "living space."

So tonight, I come home and I'm checking my e-mail as is often the case at night. And I'm struck with how many comments I've received over the past week that I've let get under my skin. Now I know that when I share my life with the world, I am allowing people in that may be of the extremely lame persuasion, so that's a risk that needs to be weighed before I hit "post."

Still, it bites a nerve when I receive feedback that comes under the guise of friendly, but which I know is judgmental criticism. Usually I just delete these comments, but what with the lack of sleep and pooping all over the house, and stress of trying to figure out what to do with work, relocation, preschool and four-year-olds that challenge just about EVERYTHING I say and do, I'm easily agitated these days.

See. I said it again!

Of course, there was the comment I received last week wherein someone called me ignorant. Then there was a comment I received yesterday wherein someone suggested that I am an excessive spender. And then, there was the comment I received today wherein someone wanted to know how I maintain an alcoholic lifestyle and still breastfeed my baby. Please do tell!!

Well, let's see.

Now please bear with me, because I am a prejudiced halfwit who likes to throw money out the window with one hand while drinking VAST quantities of wine with the other and trying not to fumble my suckling baby who is cradled to my chest with my knees.

With four small children and two part-time jobs, we are extremely careful with our finances. Not that we really need to justify this to anyone, but we save 15% of what we earn in a 401K, 5% (it's actually 10%!!) in a savings account, we use coupons wherever possible and we do our absolute best to use cash or pay off any credit cards each and every month.

I think what might be confusing is that when we do buy things, we buy nice things, quality things that will probably be passed down to our grandchildren. However, we do not spend money in excess.

(Well, except today. But Charlie insisted on the flat screen 52-inch HDTV.)

On average, I will have one glass of wine three or maybe four times a week. The last time I had a glass of wine was when Charlie was out of town. And for those four nights that he was gone, I had a glass of wine every single night. By myself!

I do not pump.

I do not dump.

I do not drink more than a glass of wine per night.

I do not drink a glass of wine every night.

I typically do not drink wine immediately before I breastfeed but guess what?

Sometimes I do.

But if not for a glass of wine a few nights a week, I would probably be in a constant state of agitation. And you know, some might argue that allowing your toddler to sit on a dining room table and watch back-to-back Christmas movies while you rearrange furniture is far more harmful than the risk of alcohol ingestion via breastmilk, from one glass of wine, that isn't fully metabolized.

Now if you have any other inquisitive! inquiries! please leave me your name and telephone number and I'll call you at my earliest opportunity. Although I can't rightly say what I might call you since my mother reads this blog.