Operation Just Breathe is not going well

I promised myself this week I would chill the you-know-what out on everything, from adjusting to a new baby (who is just the prettiest, sweetest little thing!) to this job hunt thing. So how am I doing? I'll give myself a big fat D.

I am just writing through some frustrations here -- no need to call the mental health professionals yet. So, for the five people who actually read this blog LOL, bear with me. But man, I am kind of a headcase right now. There is this stupid voice in my head that tells me I will never get hired anywhere. It's the same stupid voice that as a kid told me I was fat (I wasn't) and ugly (nope, I was kind of cute, too bad I didn't know it then). I hate that voice. I hope my kids don't have that voice. What a waste of energy to listen to it. But I couldn't help it yesterday. I felt so down, and kept hoping it was just post-partum stuff.

I had gotten my teenager's financial aid papers in order and FINALLY ready to mail to the U of Iowa, and I had to write a letter pleading poverty and ask for special consideration for financial aid. I just feel awful that I don't know how I can get his college financed this fall. I'm terrified. He's worked so hard in school, he's an accomplished student, runner and now musician, and the combination of my lack of preparedness and losing my job six months ago is so unfair to him. I feel like a lousy mom, though I know lots of families face the same pressures right now. It sank my mood, so after finishing that and a bunch of other crap I laid down with Baby C and stared at her sweet little sleeping face. My god, she is so pretty, she nearly takes my breath away. I willed her serenity and innocence and purity to wash over me, just anything to stomp out the anxiety bubbling up in my throat, but nothing. I was so frustrated -- I'm damn lucky, why the hell am I wallowing???

Reminder: I'm just writing through some stuff. I am not going to jump off a ledge and not seeking sympathy here. Just working through it.

I got the paperwork mailed early yesterday evening. I'm still scared. But it's a weight off my shoulders, temporarily. The toddler man was adorable last night, the baby was sweet and snoozed a bit in the evening and the husband and I had a nice dinner of tilapia tacos while we watched a Foo Fighters documentary. I think I have a crush on Dave Grohl. Anyway, it was nice.

This morning the anxiety is back. I felt myself growing impatient with the toddler -- though after 20 times of telling him to not touch the TV, who wouldn't get a little impatient? (He pushes some button that makes the sound disappear, and hitting the mute and volume buttons doesn't bring it back on. Very maddening.) Then he is grumpy that Spongebob is not on and it's like, how do you explain to a 2-year-old that Spongebob *would* be on if he stopped touching the doggone TV buttons? Argh! But he's so darn cute, I can never stay mad at him. I hugged him a bunch and felt better. Anyway, he's at daycare now, Baby C is sleeping and I'm going for a RUN. Back later, and in a better mood, I'm sure!

Thanks for indulging me on a ridiculous rant. Ugh. I will be normal again some day, right?