See it’s like this. I dyed my hair black all through high school, but I always wanted to do at least my tips or roots or something (anything!) a funky color. My mom said no and wouldn’t budge. Once I became an adult I was working one job after another and funky hair just wasn’t an option. You’d think that somewhere in time I’d have grown out of it. But right now I’m in a spot in my life where I have no one to report to outside of my family, and I could use a little funky in my life. Even my mom says it makes sense. Not that I asked permission, but I did warn her. Oh, she has loosened up some in the decade plus since I graduated high school so it would have been cool. But as I said, I wasn’t looking for permission. Just validation. Which I got. And I’m going with turquoise.
I have never before put flowers in the ground. If I had 25$ more I’d finish my line but it’s at an ok stopping point as it is.
It’s fairly well documented that I get baby fever something fierce when my youngest is about 3 years old. Sure enough, my kids are basically 4 years apart, currently 11, 7, and 3.
You guessed it; OMG do I have the fever! Like you wouldn’t believe.
Now, this is obviously the worst time ever to have a baby and I already have three, so… no. No more babies especially not right now! (No self, no!) Luckily, I’m fixed. Follow that link. It sums up nicely why a 4th baby is right out. That and my pregnancy with Sambam nearly killed me. There is an entire category that gives you the play by play there.
So Pat does what Pat does, and he took my to the pet store. I have to say, the entire trip and purchase, because of course there was a purchase, was 100% his idea meaning he can’t even get upset at me for it. In fact, he thanked me! He freakin’ thanked me for allowing him to bring a furbaby into the house. If that isn’t BPD manipulation, I don’t know what is. I’ve only wanted one of these forever.
So, meet Sweet Pea. Named because she is as sweet as sugar, and because she peed all over my husband in the early hours of joining the family. (We didn’t have her home/potty set up yet and there had been a car ride.)
Also, as I’ve bitched about money on here in the past few months, it’s worth stating the following:
- All bills are paid up to date.
- Kids have new and a responsible amount of clothing for the coming season.
- We have all material needs, and some wants, met and recently.
- David, my brother-in-law who lives here, just found a job and all the above should remain true for the foreseeable future.
- Babies cost more than we spent on Sweet Pea.
- She has my husband trained to snuggle her when she whines at him.
- My heart is full of glee.
This week in my store:
My newest shirts
Speaking of my store, you can find a link to the WTBL new items up along the top. It’ll take you here. I actually own the pink shirt. No joke, I love it! All items in the WTBL store are great ways to support the blog.
Things done elsewhere:
I opened an instagram account. Like a lifetime into it being an option. You can see my most recent 10 photos to the left. I’m going to try and take a photo or 12 everyday. Consider it a little glimpse into my life. You probably, however, still won’t see much of my oldest. He’s at that age.
Quote of the week:
So I spent a good 15 minutes typing and proofing a very important email to my school’s advising and financial aid offices. And of course my family, especially my youngest, senses that I need to be left alone and gives me space. Hah! If only. No. They were up my butt and interrupted me every 5 seconds. Especially the youngest, my darling daughter Sambam. I finally get her to back off some and I get the email finished. I turn around and ask:
Me: “Ok, I’m done! Now who wants to bug me?”
Sambam, very matter of factly shaking her head: “Nobody.”
In closing, this confession:
I totally want a Tardis dress what I would wear with converse sneakers. It just feels like a complete outfit.
Full disclosure: I’m currently sipping on about 2 oz of rum in a fruit punch kickstart as I type this Monday night.
So over the past, oh, 8 years especially, I’ve seen a pattern where I do my most drinking when I’m depressed. (Or the 1st of the month working at the bank.) This isn’t good. I know that there is nothing wrong with alcohol in moderation, but when I’m at my worse, there is no moderation. I proved this about a year and a half ago.
Then my sister got sick. Really sick. Alcoholism isn’t the sole cause, but it certainly exuberated the problem that was there. (Something genetic, and autoimmune related, we don’t know what but the doctors agree no amount of drinking could have killed her liver this bad that fast.)
Over the past year I’ve warred with myself over whether I should stop drinking altogether, just better monitor and limit it, or leave it alone since I’m always safe with it (in my own home, not driving) and not an alcoholic.
Those suffering from Borderline Personality Disorder tend to have addictive personalities. Meaning, we are a lot more prone to abusing alcohol and/or drugs. I’ve always known this and even at my most depressed where rum and vodka are a nightly escape, I’ve always recognized when it’s gotten out of hand, as I watch for it, and I always stop before I lose full control. I never question the glass of wine on special occasions, but I’ve been careful with drinking for the wrong reasons. I allow myself a few nights of wallowing in misery, but much beyond that, I recognize where it’s going and stop it before it becomes abuse. This is a conscious choice I make.
Now… I start to feel bad over even thinking about drinking. I think the emotion I’m looking for is guilty. How can I choose to have a drink, when my sister is literally dying from drinking too much?
Well, because I’m not my sister. I still hold the power within me to choose when too much is too much and stop with ease. Both in an evening and in a pattern of evenings. Because I have no medical reason I can’t enjoy a glass of wine on occasion. Or destress with a shot of rum after an evening of my daughter being particularly 3.
Because really, I have nothing to feel guilty about, I remind myself.
Will I drink in front of my sister? Well, at least not anytime soon. But after she gets her transplant (we hope) and it’s all behind us, wine might again get passed around on Christmas, just not to her. Or it never will again, and that’s ok too.
Will I ever get drunk again? Maybe, but it’s lost any and all appeal. Not only does escaping my depression via drinking not actually work, but the thought actually depresses me even more. I’d rather sleep it off, or lose myself in a book or movie.
Will I allow myself tonight’s shot of rum guilt free? Well, I’m working on that. It’s not for the best reason, but it’s literally only 2 oz, and it’s been a long time now since I’ve had a drink.
I may decide in the future to never drink again, but really, as I’m teaching my 11-year-old, who is currently very anti-alcohol as he watches his beloved aunt maybe die because of it, there is nothing wrong with alcohol in moderation. Special occasions, or limited amounts even frequently. Red wine is good for the heart, and I think most can unwind after a long week/day with a single drink and not have it be a problem or abuse.
If you do have problems with alcohol, please get help for it now before it becomes too late! My sister is all of 28 so there is literally no such thing as being too young for complete liver failure. What can you do for me to comfort me in my grief? You can get help if you need it to not die of something very preventable.