not really feeling that great. sinus stuff is going on and the baby is hurting me in places i didn't even know i had. not even really in the mood to update this blog, but i'm trying to finish something i started. income tax got here last friday; all that's left is $200 of it and that went into savings. we didn't waste it... for the most part. both kids got new tvs, a ticket was paid, the cable bill was paid so the kids can have tv again, james bought all the parts he needed (or thought he needed) to fix the montero, a new stove was bought and i finally bought a bed. no mattress. just the most beautiful headboard/footboard and frame. james went and spent $250 on a fucking tattoo. excuse the french, but i'm frustrated... no... scratch that. i'm pissed off about it. he claims that since he bought the stove and bed for ME (whaaaaaaaaaat?) he wanted something, too. which i could understand if the bed and stove were only being used by yours truly! not the case, but he says and i quote, "i could sleep on the boxspring and floor like we are now." ohhhh whatever! we are married and have a family. we are not in high school or college. we don't live in a one bedroom apartment anymore. we need a bed. plain and simple.

sometimes i really do feel like he hasn't grown up. like... and god strike me dead for saying this... he wants the idea of a family (wife, kids, being a father etc....) but he still wants to act like he's single in the money department. it's stupid. maybe i'm wrong, but what if i'm right? what if he never changes?

tylenol and biscuits

Woke up with blood in my mouth yet again. Perks of being sick: runny nose, headache, dry mouth, and splitting lips in the middle of the night. Normally normal life must continue when I'm sick. (Kids, husband, housework, etc...) Not the case today. At 3:30 this morning when James woke up for work, he was extremely sweet and brought me Tylenol, toilet paper, and water. He even baked biscuits for when I woke up at seven. Believe me when I say this is not a normal morning in the house of Jones.
Even though it was nice to be babied for a while, I still can't wait to be well again. I absolutely loathe being sick. I feel like I can't perform my daily routine to the best of my abilities and it drives me nuts. I can't stand for my house to be dirty and/or out of order like a lot of people I know. It's not even an issue of cleanliness.... it's more about pride. (I'm convinced if I were a hero in some great novel, this would be my weakness.) What if someone were to drop by unexpectedly? What if my mother-in-law showed up and saw my house a wreck? Not that she keeps her house at all, but still... Then I stop and think about James. He works so I don't have to so the least I can do is keep our home looking and smelling nice with supper on the most nights. I do get frustrated and angry when he forgets to do something I've asked him to, but a lot of that's me overreacting.
This is where I start talking about my anger and frustration. You'll note I use the word frustrating a lot in describing how I feel. This is because I really am frustrated and/or have no other word to describe the way I'm feeling. I get so angry sometimes and I lash out at the people I love. Don't misunderstand. I don't beat my kids or my spouse. Nothing like that. But I do get loud and I do get scary. I don't want to be like that. I don't want my kids to grow up with an angry mother and wife, and I really don't know how to fix it. I don't even know what to fix. I don't even know what I'm angry about. See? Frustrating.

No toe dipping, just jump right in,

Alright. I've caved and decided to start a blog with hope that it may help with some of my built up frustration. I'll begin by being narcissistic and talk about myself. My name is Rebecca Jones, maiden name Parker. My daughter, Emily, will be four in July. My son, Xander, will be two in June, and my little bun in the oven, Oakley, will be here sometime in May. I know, I know. What was I thinking having my kids so close together, right? Trust me, I'm there with you. I ask myself that every day, and then I remember my reasoning behind the decision. See, my husband, James, is ten years older than me, and while it doesn't bother me in the least (we're on the same level... most of the time) I didn't want him to be in a walker at their graduations and wedding. Call me shallow, but it all makes sense. I want us to be able to enjoy our kids while we're young and healthy and spry.
I won't lie and say that it isn't frustrating. It is. My kids are beautiful and smart, and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. But part of me is tired. I'm worn out and I don't know if I'll ever be rested again. This is where my problems lie. I constantly go, and do, and do, and do for everyone, and I never stop to do something nice for myself. Maybe I'm a closet masochist. Who knows.
Again, this blog is an attempt to talk myself through some of the feelings and frustrations I'm having. Hopefully, hopefully, it helps.