In honor of my new medication we're going to talk about my OCD/anxiety. Every mother that has more than one child has anxiety. Don't be a liar. I have anxiety 24/7. My brain doesn't turn off and I can't sleep. Lets talk about some of those triggers.
Dirty clothes. I can't handle when my kids have even the smallest spot on them. I follow them around with napkins and wipes to keep them clean. Harlow eats pasta naked. I won't let them wear certain clothes if I know they are going to play outside. So they wear the same shit to daycare every week. My fear of dirty clothes has worn off on Cash. If he even gets a drop of water of his clothes the entire outfit must be replaced. I can't tell you how many times I've turned around and caught him butt naked because "My shert got wet." Harlow could give a shit. She'll wear clothes til there's mold on them. Sticky hands and dirty faces. I try to teach my kids good hygiene. I'll lick my thumb to get that dirt off their face and I'm washing their hands with wipes after they do anything. This has backfired since Cash now eats donuts with a fork to keep his hands from getting dirty. I also don't do dirty feet. They must be wiped upon removal of shoes or sit outside until you're to be cleaned. Again, backfired. Cash will take his shoes off soon as his ass hits his car seat "Mommy my feet are so durty you have to wash them or I can't go on."
Wet clothes lead to mismatching outfits. Another trigger. Cash will go up to change a sock that has a piece of the dogs fur on it and come down with clothes that don't go together. That makes me nuts. I'm FAR from matchy matchy but certain things should be worn with certain things period. Don is notorious for putting pjs on them that don't go together. I've even fold them together, bottom underneath the matching top. I've explained the process a million times. I can't make it any simpler. I shouldn't be surprised he doesn't take more pride in the bedtime attire. This dude lives in a Jack Daniels cut off t-shirt. A womans size medium spandex cutoff. I will wake a kid up and change their pjs. In fact, I have. I told you people I'm on medication. OCD/Anxiety is real life up in here.
Kids jumping on me gives me anxiety. I'm not a jungle gym get the fuck off me and go beat the shit out of each other. I'll watch from my bed. Harlow can't sit still when I'm on the couch and she insists on being all over me until I jump up and scream like someone is trying to touch me with dirty feet.
Toe nails that aren't painted make me cringe. Especially when you're wearing sandals. God damn it women get with the program. Do us all a favor and pretty up those Mama June forklift feet with some polish. God made nail polish for a reason. Don't wear chipped polish either. Have some dignity. I will call all of my friends out on their unpainted nails. Some of them now make sure they are painted before we get together or they have an excuse on deck because they know I'm coming for them.
Whining. I CAN'T DEAL WITH WHINING. It gives me anxiety like nothing I've ever seen before. My head will spin and I'll spit green slime if I even hear the beginning of a whine.
I am going to NYC on Friday. Don is going to be home with the kids. I left out outfits and pjs for every day I'm gone. Left to right, Friday to Monday. I am freaking out about the fact that Don won't know how to comb Harlows bangs after her shower and the next day she'll wake up looking like a cockatoo. Who is going to do Cash's hair? He has soccer pictures on Monday and I won't be there to do it for him. I won't sleep all weekend. I'm not going to miss them. I'm more worried they will be out in public looking like a hot mess representing me. Come on ladies there are very few men who can dress kids in clothes that make sense let alone give a little girl a water spout on the top of her head.
The list is SO much longer than this. I just picked the top few of the day. Thank God we switched medicines because just reading this is giving me anxiety.
Yea I take meds, yea I lost my shit on any and everything but I have kids with clean clothes, clean feet, perfect hair, and my nails painted. Except for today. My nails aren't polished, I'm in dire need of a manicure and I've been called out on it. Twice. Touche.
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