Between illness and an already crazy life, this momma is rundown. Our house is a disaster, but a pretty accurate representation of all the other aspects of our lives right now. Nothing is ever simple anymore. Evie has these mystery fevers, Liv is constantly teething and constantly biting me everywhere. Thanks for pointing out all my rolls little one, nothing like a nice chomp on my stomach to remind me of how much time I don’t have for the gym. 

I’m trying to be something other than just a mom so I’m scheduling date nights and going out for drinks with my sisters. I’m saying yes to things I should say no to and running my gas tank so far into the red zone that the low fuel light should now read Bitch your fuel is gone! 

I had a simple surgical consult yesterday about having all four of my wisdom teeth removed. Of course it’s never that simple. Apparently, one of them is hitting my nerve, and at a high risk for damaging my nerve. Which would leave my face partially paralyzed. 
How am I supposed to use my full range of facial expressions to demonstrate my sarcasm and sass to my husband all day if half my face doesn’t work. 
CT scan is scheduled for next week, followed by another consultation. 
It’s not like it’s hard for me to make it to these appointments with three small children or anything. Schedule away docs, we love sitting in your freezing cold office. 

Also, since when is it so expensive for them to pull a damn tooth? Maybe I will take my dad up on the whole pliers offer.

Also, I have to decide if I’m enough of a bad bitch to do the whole thing awake, and if I’ll be able to handle no narcotic to help with pain after. See both anesthetic and narcotics would mean no nursing Liv. I could get past the sadness of not nursing her for a few days, but let’s face it, I hate pumping. The last thing I want to do on top of recovering from my wisdom teeth is pump. To top it off, every time I go an extended period of time without nursing I get mastitis. Basically, I get an infection with a fever and flu symptoms which usually leads to me begging Sean took take me out back behind the barn with a shotgun and put me out of my misery. 

Mastitis= bad.
The point of this endless rant is that I’m sorry im not sorry I’m flaky right now. I’m a flaky friend, sister, wife, writer, hell even a flaky mom. 

I’m tired. I’m stressed. I need to actually eat a whole meal, and read more than a few sentences at a time. I need my husband to finish filling out the damn forms he’s been working on for almost two years so I can go off of this sex strike. I need a shower, a stiff drink, and a stiff… you know. 

That would do momma some good. So fill out the damn forms husband. 

What? Yes. I’m here. I’m awake. Sure, have another fruit snack kids. You can live off of fruit snacks right? 

So as I tell Evie 100 times a day… be patient people momma’s trying. 

One Reply to “Just call me momma flake. ”

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