No one gets me

Seriously, no one gets me. Sometimes I feel so cut off from the rest of humanity. Not like Bella, who chose it. OK? So we're clear? I'm not some whiny emo teenager here, ok?

Wow, so that sounded a tad defensive. See, here's the thing. I'm wife, and mother, to attention-deficit. And I have no idea how to deal with it. Up until I met my husband, seriously, I'd never met anyone with ADD. I thought it was a myth concocted by shrinks to explain bad behavior, get press, and make oodles doping kids up on ritalin.

Turns out, it's more serious than that. But what kills me is that even though I've learned that it's a real disease, apparently no one else in the educated world has.

Now, I know not everyone has time, energy, or inclination to read my blogs. We'll shame them later. BUT if they did, maybe they'd have a clue into my life, and how hard and lonely it really is, instead of dismissing my gripes. "He's all boy, isn't he?" they say about my son, or, "Wow, he's wide-open, huh?" Um, sure. I guess those apply, but it's so much more than that.

And my family doesn't get it, either. I try not to throw my hubby & kid in with my brothers and father too much, just makes for really tense times. Because they don't get it.

And when I go out, my friends don't get it, either. They tell me I'm really quiet, and then I feel boring. But it's hard to be awesome and the life of the party when I'm so fucking tired. I haven't slept in four years because of this. Sleeping in, for me, is getting uninterrupted sleep until 6AM. Sad, huh? And when I try to explain my kid, well, you saw what they say.

Inside, my 24-year-old self is screaming at me to let her out. To be fun, crazy, and let loose. But it's hard when I have 3 other people depending on me for everything. And it's always on my mind, crowding out all the fun.

Sometimes, I wish I could become a vampire, super-strong, no need of sleep, able to clean the entire house in under a minute. But I'm just me, with an apple-shaped body and gray hair and sunken eyes, and a to-do list that never gets finished.

One of my Facebook friends wrote, "You are only as strong as those who support you." I guess that means I have the strength of 1, then... is it enough? Do you get me?

Hormone Power

Step right up ladies, and sign up for an exclusive vacation to Hormone Power! We have special rides and areas dedicated to your favorite Hormonal activities! On the midway you'll find our most popular game, Deck the Husband! Hurl irons, rolling pins, or pots and pans at him, for prizes of shoes, bags, or a complete spa package! Or take a leisurely cruise on Cry Me A River, where viewers are treated to touching scenes from Beaches, The Family Stone, and other sob-inducing movies. It's OK to tear up, ride cars are equipped with handy tissue dispensers and makeup wipes! Feel like snarling? Why not enjoy an afternoon in our snark simulator, complete with trashily-dressed strangers you can insult but who won't yell back. Safe Snarking is conveniently located next to Chocolate Rx, our most popular gift shop. There's so much to do and see at Hormone Power, you can't get it all done in one day! And the best part is, while you're visiting us, it's not visiting your poor family!

*Warning: Hormone Power, its investors, advertisers, affiliates, etc. (Park) cannot be held liable for any damages incurred by raging hormones. We cannot replace mascara or self-respect lost on Cry Me A River. Photos of real husbands will not be allowed at Deck the Husband. Should you choose to participate in venting your negative emotions on other Park patrons (Patrons), Park is not responsible for injury caused to you if/when Patrons retaliate. Chocolate Rx is simply a chocolatier, and is not intended to treat, diagnose, etc. any medical condition; consuming too much chocolate may make your hormones worse, and if this causes disturbances to our other Patrons, sedatives will be administered and any spa packages won or purchased will be cancelled. Don't say our name didn't warn you. Who do you think runs this place, anyway, a GUY? Right...he can't even find the remote, let alone his ass with both hands. Geez, I frickin' have to do everything around here! Why can't you people pipe down and take care of yourselves for once? What? Who are you? No, don't come at me with that big needl...*

So, if you read my last post, you'll know that some knuckle-draggin', hairy-backed, tobaccy-chewin', immoral guy needed to get a quick present for his best girl, and what better place to shop than someone else's luggage, right? It's quick, easy, convenient, and hey, it's free! In fact, they're even getting paid to do it! Talk about a bonus!

So yesterday, I called my insurance company to see if this particular theft was covered. Upon discovering that NO, it was not, and even if it was I'd have to pay the deductible first, I practically hung up on the poor guy, and promptly stomped upstairs to my desk, so mad my ears were steaming. I sat down and started browsing; not for a replacement camera, but for my camera, the exact one my husband picked out for me. Silly and unreasonable, sure, but it's not often that he picks out something for me, unprompted I might add, that I end up loving. By the time 20 minutes of searching had passed, without seeing anyone selling my camera, I had to wipe away tears.

In an effort to allow the caged, "normal" part of me to interact with the world (instead of the hormonally-charged, unpredictable me), I sent my husband an email:

Hey, maybe next time, I'll just bring in a gift, and give it to the ticket agent, and tell her to throw into a crowd of baggage handlers to distract them while my bag goes by. I mean, if I'm essentially going to be buying them electronics anyway, I might as well have some fun with it!

His reply prompted several moments of gleeful, malicious giggling:

I just had an image of a bunch of Dobermans crammed in a room, dressed in coveralls, drooling over a piece of steak that's about to be thrown in with them...

And thus we see, in one day, irrational anger, inexplicable tears, and inappropriate giggling...Oh, PMS, why oh why do you only come around once a month?

And while we're on the subject of inappropriate giggling, I just realized something: that ticket agent and anyone who rifled through my suitcase probably caught strep throat! MWAHAHAHA!!

Dear Smooth Away

Dear Smooth Away:

How do I love you? Let me count the ways:

I love the way you've made this look so easy! One simple pass should get rid of my unwanted leg hair! I must have done something wrong if it took me an hour to get the hair off my lower legs...

I love the versatility of your product! One simple pad should remove all of my unwanted body hair...except for my armpits, but I must have done something wrong there, too...

I love the way you've convinced me that I need your product to simplify my life. Now I can get rid of all of my razors, all of my exfoliators, and all of my free time...

I love the crafty marketing you used to convince me to buy your product, instead of, say, a sander. The sander would probably be quicker, but where's the fun in that? And it's funny, but the "microfine crystals" seemed a lot more like sandpaper than I would have thought...

I loved the thrill of fear I felt during the hair removal process, seeing the fine white powder of my skin getting "gently" buffed off...

I truly adore the way you promise no razor burn! How did you do that? I must have done something wrong in my hour-long use of your product to de-hair my legs, because the lotion you recommended I apply burned, and left me with razor bumps.

But best of all, I love the stubbly, poky way my legs felt the next day.

Thanks, Smooth Away! Thanks to you, I can kiss my free time, my outer dermis, and my smooth legs good-bye! I know you said I can use this on my face, but I'm just not confident enough in my abilities to take a sander to my upper lip...