But getting back into the swing of blogging is proving more difficult than anticipated. I think I've had a minor switch in priorities, plus I'm dealing with some health stuff.
Had a migraine the other day. It wasn't a full-blown, throwing up every time I move one, thank God, but it did make me feel like crap. I took on of my new sample migraine meds, and found out that the muscle burning thing like I'm not getting enough oxygen happens with this one, too. Yay.
Then today, my back went out, so I'm gimping around. There's a ton of laundry that needs to be done, but bending over sends my back into horrific muscle spasms, so chances are it's over for the day, you know?
Tomorrow's church, and Steve's working until three in the morning, so it'll be up to me to make sure we wake up. The last time it was my turn to do that on a Sunday, we missed church. Oops.
Actually, I'm having a stage where I'm just not that into church. I don't have any interest in going or helping in any way. I would mostly like to be able to go on a vacation alone for a couple of weeks. I would love to go to an isolated cabin in the woods, with enough groceries to last a month so I don't have to leave, and just rest. No kids, no husband, no friends, just me, a pile of books, and, if he wants to come, God.
My creativity is in the toilet, too. That's probably part of the reason blogging isn't as exciting as it once was, because I've got nothing interesting to say.
I'm on my second pack of birth control pills, and this funk started about the time I went back on it, so maybe it'll let up once my body gets used to the extra hormones? My friend Sarah recently started birth control and she said at one point she got really depressed, so I'm hoping that that's all this is and it will pass for me like it did for her.
It feels dumb to be on the pill at thirty-two years old, but I don't want any more kids, and we're still considering our permanent options. Actually, we know that Steve will get a vascectomy, but the when and where is an issue.
Would you believe that Steve's insurance won't pay for birth control pills? Yeah, me neither. You'd think the stupid bastards would be all about preventing pregnancies since they are a helluva lot more expensive than the pill, but they're stupid.
I don't know how long I'll be on the pill because of that, but interestingly, my libido has increased since I've been on it. Knowing that I won't get pregnant has definitely relieved a lot of pressure.
When Steve and I got married, I went on the pill for a while, but had some pretty crappy side-effects, so we just decided to give my fertility to God. Which would have been stupid if I was really fertile with ovulations every month, because I'd have ended up with 8 kids instead of three.
But, I only have two or three periods a year, which at best makes me fertile anywhere from four to twelve days a year, which isn't great odds for pregnancy when you consider the fact that I don't have sex every day, or even every other day, or even, well, you get the picture.
So anyway, I was okay with letting God decide if and when we had kids. I was even okay with having more than three right after Michaela was born [which is a bit odd, I admit, since my pregnancies are difficult to say the least]. But as Michaela has gotten older I've realized that I'm tired of babies and diapers and pregnancy brain.
I'm tired of being stuck at home all the time because it's hard for me to take all of the kids somewhere [I have some mild agorophobia that becomes severe when I've got my kids with me. I always feel like one of them will wander off and be gone forever, and I couldn't deal with that, so I just don't go out].
And even though I feel like a complete shit for saying it, there is a pretty major sacrifice that's necessary if I really want to give my kids the kind of care I think they deserve. No one will take care of my kids like I will. No one shares my parenting philosophy, and while I'm not the best parent in the world, I think I am the best parent for my kids because I love them more than someone else would.
Oh, I know some people can love kids that aren't their own as if they were, but I don't know any personally. And very few day care workers and teachers can give kids the love they need because there's too many kids that need too much.
But, there are times when I wish I could have a month or so where I can just rest. It's weird and feels wrong to want some time that's just my own, but I do.
I'd love to go to college and study art and writing. I'd love to be able to get oil paints and leave them out without worrying that someone will paint the walls with them. I'd love to be able to walk through the house without tripping over fifteen Barbies and Hot Wheels on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and then have to swear and moan silently so I don't wake the kids.
Yeah, I know, it'll happen all too soon and I'll be wishing they were little again, but right now, at this moment, this is how I feel and I don't need any guilt trips because I'm not enjoying every minute of being a stay-at-home-mom, and that I sometimes resent the fact that I'm not allowed to think of myself first.
I haven't written about writing in a while. It's still a dream of mine, but I've kinda put it on the back burner. The words come when I sit down and start to write, but it seems like there's always something that's more urgent than my story.
It's a problem that a lot of aspiring writers have, which is largely why they remain aspiring. I know that by letting life choke out the writing I'm losing the battle to be published before I even begin. I know that it'll always be something. Right now it's the kids, soon it will be something else, like aging parents or something. Then it'll be health problems because I'm too damn old. I know that, and yet right now, I just don't care.
Right now I'm being swallowed alive, and I just don't have the energy to fight it anymore.