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Need an emotional release, and a reminder to self. The UTI I have is wearing me down. It’s the end of day 1, on antibiotics, and I am not sure it is helping. Either that, or I over did myself today in trying to do something, so as to not seem lazy. I also and took my daughter to get new shoes, since a boy in her school wrecked her only pair.

We sold an Elliptical machine, and initially we were elated for the extra money. Whhoooo hooo! $120. I can get shoes for my daughter and maybe one or two items of clothing since she is wearing well worn, hand me downs, and has a very limited wardrobe at the moment (no back-to school shopping this year at all). There is a shoe and pants shortage. Anyway, can’t find the shoes yet, since she has a wide foot. Found one pair of pants, and one T-shirt, and some socks. Plus bleach since we have no dryer right now (which we can’t afford to fix yet), and it seems like line drying is not always so good for towels after awhile (-$27). Then Hicham buys an expensive cake to celebrate, and gives half to very supportive neighbors, which is OK, but damn it -$13, more. Tomorrow we need brakes, which are cheap I hope. I still need to buy shoes, and have the energy to take her, or delegate it to my husband. The money will go fast, and we will still be a few bills behind and probably late with rent again… I can’t stand it anymore. There is so much shame to being behind, and everyday it hurts to loose my temper because my kids are asking for normal things like cold-lunch, fruit, leggings without holes, or a new pair of shoes, and I have to say no. It is hard. I almost want to throttle my husband for not appearing to take our situation seriously. I can’t do it anymore! Arghhh! My well meaning neighbor mentioned going to nordstroms and getting something for myself, which I’d love, but a) I have no energy and b) it is going to be gone soon. For the record, I may have money issues. No money has ever been my money, even if it was. The hubby is well meaning in that all money is our money and there is no such thing as my money or his money. My birthday money, goes in the pot, my small inheritance from my Opa’s trust fund, gone into tickets to Morocco. For the most part I agree, money is for the whole family, but it fucking feels nice to have some autonomy, and be able to save it for something you deem essential—like money for a road trip to visit family, or clothes, just enough plain everyday clothes, and bras with no holes, a class in town, or fresh fucking peaches.

Meanwhile I am sick, and parenting when feeling cruddy is a NIGHTMARE. This is where I write the note to myself to remember that no one is comforting me, or asking how I’m doing, or offering to step in and corral the kids, or cook dinner or breakfast. Bloody hell. I small hand holding or a hug would go a long way. I am so tired and sore, so exhausted I can’t sleep, and my mind has no taste for mind numbing TV. I mentioned twice to my husband, please get up at 7am and take care of the kids. I could be ready to get up, but I swear to god, that hour from 7am-8am, is particularly wearing and nerve wracking. Not good for one’s health, when one is sick. He’d better help, and not be grumpy about it. We should be a team, right?


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