I've been called out.

I don't like the month of February.  I never have.  Now, before those that have birthdays, or children's birthdays, or whatever in this month take offense, this does not mean I don't like you.  Or them.  I just don't like February.  It's short.  I know it's only like, three or four days, but that throws me off.  I'm always relieved to see March because it means that I've paid all my bills and gotten all the appointments and such out of the way--and now life kind of gets back to a normal pace.  I know it's just weird.  I know it makes no sense.  But I also know that I'm the girl that takes two weeks to get used to daylight savings and springing forward time changes.  (Which I also hate, btw. Springing forward, especially).  
When times were harder, financially, February used to kill us.  I dreaded it all year long...and it's become habit, I guess.  I thought I would make it an entire month before posting again--letting all my February crap settle before I took to my keyboard.  However, Amy told me that I needed to blog.  And it's 3:36 am.  And I feel really, really sick.  Like, the when you have the flu.  And all your body just aches.  And you're so tired, and your head is fuzzy...but you can't really relax.  I think Syd has the same thing, because she was tired at like, 8:00pm tonight.  After waking up from her nap at 6. (This will all become more relevant, soon...I'm just setting stuff up).  Basically, I'm sick, I'm tired, and I'm trying to explain myself after I've been out of the game for a while.  So bear with me.


Today Sydney had her first meeting with the Speech Therapist.  Not surprisingly, she qualified for help.  Kids who Count have to first assess your child, see where they are on some sort of scale, and if they qualify, your child will be accepted into the program.  With her physical skills, she would have been passed over, the Therapist told me.  She's got mad physical skills.  :)  However, because she's really low on commonly used words, and she didn't get that she had to "feed the teddy bear with the spoon", (It was a whole bit in the series of tests), and she had no interest in pointing out to the Therapist the items on her laminated pages, she scored so low that it balanced everything out.  Thus, Syd is now official.  Officially what, I'm not exactly sure...but we are now totally committed to this program.  I'm relieved.  I'm glad that she's getting help, and that I'm getting help.  Because this has been something that's been eating at me for a while now. 
I'm also kind of sad.  I know kids develop at their own levels.  And I don't know if it's because I'm not feeling my best anyway, but I guess what it comes down to, is that I don't want anyone to tell me that my kid is sub-par.  Does that make sense?  I started tearing up when the Therapist, who was really kind and fun, btw, but when she started telling me how Syd was going to score.  Having someone put a number on your--I can't even think of what to call her, because her importance to me is greater than anything I can think of at this moment, but having someone put a number on that, is rough.  Especially when they break it down and tell you what it means in respect to all the other supposed children out there.  That she's really behind.  That even crack-babies are talking better than she is.  And before you assume I've just caught whatever Charlie Sheen has and will now start saying the most asinine things you've ever heard as truth, let me say that I KNOW that's a terrible way to think.  But I thought it.  And it broke my heart for her, and for me...because I'm so rotten and I think such awful things.  Please believe me when I say that I honestly am contrite about my thoughts.  Some of the time I really hate the things that I find in my head, however fleeting they may be.   
Syd was tired.  I would have put her down for a nap, but the Therapist had a cancellation and so she came right at Syd's nap time.  And let me say that she was a good girl.  And for the first thirty minutes she really tried.  But then she was done, and she was ready for bed, and she was pretty pissed that we apparently weren't getting all her hints.  Or allowing her hints to pass as her telling us she was done, and ready to sleep.  So she resorted to crying that mad cry when she stares at you and keeps getting louder and louder, until you give her what she wants.  It's a fairly easy system to figure out, I'm sure she's not too happy about me trying to change the rules.  
Anyway, that's all I'll say about that for now.  There's a lot of things I'd like to say, but I can't really be held accountable for my thoughts around 4 am.  Because usually they seem to be bleak and destructive towards myself.  
I will say this, though.  If Oprah were to have a couple kids, and then have to worry about them being on the norm with everyone else, she would be more of a yo-yo dieter than she already is.  Because I am in a place right now where I am literally all over the place.  Sometimes I can't eat anything because there's too much to do, and I'm too distracted.  And then other times I can't stop myself from eating a ton of some kind of comfort food at a ridiculous time.  I think this hurts my mental state, as well as my physical state.  Because I seem to be on the verge of tears a lot...and hating myself for various reasons.  And I don't say this for sympathy...I say it for solidarity, maybe?  Like, does this happen to others?  I've mentioned the person I blog-stalk just so I can be mad at them for the rest of the week because they say dumb things.  Things that are something straight out of high school, and try to pass it off as healthy adulthood.  I don't know why I read their stuff.  Sometimes I fantasize about responding to them, and I have so many great things to say...so many burns that they'd be crying for weeks.  And then I realize that that's MY high school self coming out, as well.  The one that I didn't recognize then, but do now as a definite bully.  
Anyway, do I live my life that way?  I wonder this, sometimes.  I try to tell myself that I'm not overly shallow and boring, but maybe I am.  Maybe I'm that person that others turn to when they just need to hate someone or something. 
On that note, I hope March brings better things.  I hope I can be more positive and generous and less angry.  I hope I can improve so I'm not in the "permanently bitchy and pessimistic" section on the scale of my life.  This was all way too much information.  But that's kind of why I've been pretty quiet in the blogging world lately.  I'm trying to be better.  I think a new month will help.