Why I Should Never Have Access to the Nuke Codes

I had my first psychotic break this week.  Actually, several.  I am not sure what the true impetus was.  It could have been the school bus fiasco.  It could have been when my husband suggested we register for Saturday and Sunday morning hockey.  It may have even been the 2-page letter sent home from Jack's 1st grade teacher outlining weekend assignments that include diagnosing types of sentences.

But I had one.  A psychotic break that is.  It manifested itself throughout the week. It first came when I broke down as I wrapped my niece's birthday present in my usual selection of Christmas paper.  I teared up when I realized that wrapping a 3-year old's present in snowflakes is not something normal people do.  And I do it all the time.

I liked this paper because it had Hanukkah colors.  Christmas, Hanukkah, birthday parties....I liked the flexibility.

Next up was my accosting the swim instructor.  After 3 years of lessons, I cringed as the kids were handed swim noodles and floating boards.  I snapped and stormed over to the instructor:

"Really?  It's been three flippin' years!  Can you teach the kids maybe a stroke this decade?  I mean, REALLY.  Swim noodles?  This is America!"

I guess when this session is up, I had better find a new facility as I'm probably on the barred list now.  Again.

The third episode had me screaming at the bus company about their on-time record (currently at 8%).  Atheist-Friend was there for that one.  After the dispatcher yelled at me about the 10,000 kids in the school system and how I shouldn't expect a bus to arrive at my house on-time, I cried.  Atheist-Friend is not good when people cry, so instead of an empathetic "there, there," she took me on a death march around Beverly to "burn off some steam."  My legs still hurt.

As I flipped through some of my recent blogs, I realized that I am now a perpetrator of "blog rage."  I am selfishly using this forum to express my anger and frustration at the whole wide world.  I need to calm down.  I need to ease up on the coffee.  And most importantly, I need to find the funny again.

And I did.  Stay tuned for tomorrow's blog:

How Marianne Got Her Groove Back.