They're Coming to Take Me Away

I am sick, just SICK over the fact that I'm not going on the youth group retreat this weekend. Chad helped me see that with Jenna having rough nights, and with me in an almost-constant funk (which I finally admitted is probably post-partum depression), that it would be a lot easier on me if I didn't go. I know he's right, and in a way I was relieved, but I hate missing out on time with the kids -- especially when several of them are dealing with some pretty big stuff right now. Plus the other adults going are several of the ones that I really like to spend time with and I hate missing out on that, too. Just being with Brenda Paulk makes me a better person, period. I know, there will be other retreats.

So instead, I'm going to my parents' house for the weekend with Julia and Jenna. My parents' house, where there is no chaos. And people get to sleep whenever they want to. Not that my parents are lazy bums. They both work full time. But at night, they get to go to bed and sleep! Whenever they want to! That's what I'm doing as soon as Jenna goes off to college. I'm going to bed.

Back to the the post-partum thing. The other night I cried because I saw Chad putting frozen waffles in the toaster. He was putting them in the toaster because the roast I had cooked wasn't cooked all the way through and he had to be somewhere and didn't have time for it to cook more. He wasn't upset about it or anything, he was just toasting some waffles so he could eat something before he left. So I'm crying in the kitchen and he's trying to comfort me, probably thinking, "What can I say to my whacked-out wife?" Then I get it under control, but then -- KA-CHUNK! The waffles pop up and that gets me going again. I just want order in my life -- any kind of order would be fine. It's a bad day when waffles get the better of you.