Zen and the Art of Motherhood

OK.  I need to breath.

No, not just short, shallow breathes.  You know the ones.  My kids are famous for these, especially when I tell them to turn off the TV.

No, I'm in need of some cleansing breathes.  Ones that reach deep into the diaphragm then work hard to blow out all that stored stress.

That's the theory at least.  If the truth be told, I've been huffing and puffing all week long and those great moments of calm are nowhere in sight.  And that, my friend, bites.

What's got me so worked up? 

In short, my life.

What was I thinking when I had four kids?  They were just so darn cute, I guess.  But now? Not so much.  Between the laundry, the homework, the messes and the meltdowns, I'm about ready to blow my proverbial top.

And then there's the house. The projects I look at everyday, only to run away hyperventilating. There's also the bills.  These just happen to go hand-and-hand with the lack of money to pay said bills.

Last but not least, there's me.  Imaginer of many, finisher of few.  Its already the end of March and I'm nowhere with my This-is-My-Year kick.  I am sad to report my Couch to 5K exercise plan has now morphed into Couch with Doritos.  As for my diet?  Let's just say if I was on a weight gain regime, I'd be doing great.

There are days when everything seems to swirl above my head and put me in the front-row seat for my very own Beat Yourself Up show.  And if you haven't noticed already, that day is today.

The one thing I'm thankful for today is this blog.  Yes, I realize you may not be feeling the love as you read this written venting session, but for me, this outlet keeps me sane.  OK, maybe not sane, but as close as one gets in these parts.

Hopefully the show will end soon and I'll be back to my in denial normal self tomorrow.

Its My Pity Party and I'll Vent If I Want To,