I’ve been hovering on the edge of an anxiety attack all day, and I just want to know WHY my anxiety is so heavily tied to my job and dealing with administrators? I got an email this morning from another sped teacher asking if I would be willing to have a meeting with my vice principal AND my immediate director of sped involving a situation with another teacher and a student of mine.

I’m not in trouble. I KNOW i’m not in trouble, and yet, here I am, right on the edge.

Of course, everything that’s going on at home is not making anything any better, as Brandus is on edge and so sad and so stressed, and I’m sad and stressed that HE’S sad and stressed, and so we’re just…yeah.

Write wills, people. And don’t try to run away from creditors. There is no reason on this entire freaking EARTH that I should be having to cancel magazine subscriptions and who knows what else that are in the name of a DOG that died seven years ago. A DOG. Because they didn’t want to put their own name on things.

I am currently in a joyful, “I HATE EVERYONE” mood, so much so that I actually hissed at my husband like a cat last night before swooping upstairs with my computer to hide under the covers and read fanfiction.

The death in the family thing I dont feel up to explaining again, because I’ve told the story so many times by now that it’s completely nonsensical to me and the really short version is: My mother in law died at her home after being in the hospital, released without telling anyone, and we got to clean her blood up off the floor. The last two weeks have been AWESOME!

I am currently depending heavily on xanax in order to sleep at night because between the husband’s current lack of relaxation and my own anxiety issues, I am basically pretending to sleep by some strange sort of glorified dozing which means I sit up and glare at the clock every half an hour.

The kid has gone crazy, which seems par for the course with all the other crazy. He’s handled all the traveling pretty well, although we’ve somehow lost two winter jackets and a sweatshirt, but he must be hitting a growth spurt because he cannot stop eating.

We’ve been staying in hotels with free breakfast whenever we’re trying to deal with the mess that is the MIL’s estate/house/royally-fucked-by-lack-of-will-stuff, and Voldemort eats 2 bowls of cereal, a piece of toast, sausage, orange juice, an apple, and a yogurt, and then an hour later when we are trying to meet with the estate planner or close out bank accounts, he pipes up with, “I’m STARVING.” We had to make an emergency pit stop to buy him more shoes, too, because he suddenly couldn’t walk in his old ones and we realized it’s because his toes were crunched up at the end, so now my five year old child is wearing Big Kid Twos and eating us out of house and home and we’re going to have to take out a second mortgage feeding him when he’s a teenager and wearing shoe size 72 and standing 18 feet tall. Otherwise, he’s handling the death of his grandmother fairly well, especially because we’ve let him keep all of the change we’re finding out the house, and he cackles as he feeds into into his little bank that counts it and I’m going to have to steal it because $50 in change would be very helpful right now.

Brandus is alternately dealing and shutting down – angry and then depressed – hopeful and anxious. So he’s either yelling at us or sleeping or having low level anxiety attacks about everything that could and can and will go wrong.

I wish there was a font specifically for sarcasm so I could design a cheery tshirt that says, “IT’S AWESOME!!” in giant glittery sarcasm font, because I really don’t think I can express myself in any other way.

There are way too few commas or sentences or something in this post, so I’m going to go glare at the broken caffeine machine and tell it how much I hate it for it’s denial of my Dr Pepper.

The Spiral will be dark for a bit – we had an unexpected death in the family and will be dealing with all that comes with that.

Will update sometime next week, I hope.

My little boy – my lover of pink and Dora and fairies, has entered Kindergarten, where he is exposed to little boys who don’t play with Dora or fairies and think that pink is “for girls.”

My little boy looked at me this morning, where I was holding a pair of jeans and his favorite pink shirt, and said, “I don’t want to wear that to school.”

He wouldn’t tell me why, but I can guess. I can guess the same way I can guess why he told the teacher his favorite color is blue. I can guess the same way I can guess why he’s running around pretending to be a ninjago when he’s never shown any interest before.

Peer pressure is a weird thing, isn’t it? It only takes one comment from someone else before you never want to wear an outfit you were so proud of. It only takes one, “EW, PINK IS FOR GIRLS,” comment to make a little boy who loves pink stop admitting to it.

For now, I’m holding to the fact that my little boy still wears his pink shirt on the weekends, that he’s so excited to have a playdate with a little girl where they plan to watch the new Tinkerbelle movie, that while he looked a little sad about not wearing his pink shirt to school – he still smiled and told me that pink is still his favorite color. Just not in school.