Our black cat is named Mugsy but we call him many different names including Muggbutt, Mr. Mugglesworth, Mudgy and Mugglebottom. He's a big, furry, lovable cat who has Herpes in one of his eyes so it's often very runny. Some days Tony likes to ask me if I've seen Muggy's butthole and of course I say no even though sometimes it's hard not to with the way cats walk an inch from your face across whatever you are doing, tail held high. He actually stepped on my peanut-butter toast the other day!! Muggy has the biggest butthole of all our cats, not that I'm paying attention, but my husband has told me. Mugs likes to perch on this one counter corner in the kitchen right by the door so he can swipe at anyone who walks by and doesn't give him a treat. He loves his treats. He sits there and meows and meows and meows. When Tony is out of town I give Mugsy treats just once a day but he's used to getting a lot more when Tony is home. My mom claims to love cats but does nothing but say mean things to Muggy when he snags her sweater as she walks by, but then she'll go get the treat packet and shake out more little brown square treats on the counter than Tony may give him all day. Mugs comes and goes as he pleases, as do most cats, but he is a big lover and can be rather aggressive with getting love from you. His nose seems to get all puckered when I scratch under his chin and this morning he let me give him a big, long belly rub on the bed. Tony always asks me if I pet the animals to which I reply no because I think it is such an absurd question. I just don't dote on them the way he does. Me and the animals have an understanding, we live together, I feed them and scoop their poop and give them lovin but I have my own life. Am I saying Tony doesn't have a life? No, he does, he has more life than many of us half his age. But I not only married the Mayor of Candyland (hahahaha, he hated when I called him that in a prior blog but all it means is that he's so happy-go-lucky it doesn't seem possible) but I also married Dr. Doolittle. Then again, maybe I'm not giving myself enough credit in this department. I mean, I allowed if not welcomed and sought out many of the animals that live with us, if not all of them. I love animals even though they make my work as cleaner of this house a lot harder. Sometimes the things you love most cause you the most stress and you actually wonder for a few minutes in the heat of an especially stressful time if it is really worth it, but of course it generally is. The fact that Boris is always sneaking himself a special human snack off the counters is incredibly aggravating and yet it's our fault for leaving it and trusting him. And of course I don't actually question whether or not having kids was a good idea, and even if I did there's nothing I would do about it because the wonderfulness way outweighs the madness. Like Teagan's guaranteed daily diaper blow-out. I spend more time treating her poop stains than I care to admit. Like Tyler wanting me to read the same damned Thomas magazine to him over and over and over or hearing him say "mommy" ten million times in a row for no reason it seems other than to hear himself say it! At the end of the day I can laugh about it and I'm trying more often to laugh about it when it happens. Tony says I allow myself to get too stressed out by the kids and all my "work." He's right. I probably don't spend enough time enjoying it because I'm all business, trying to get things done around the house like keeping it in some semblance of order, trying to make sure people are fed, diapers are changed, that my guests feel at home, blah blah blah blah blah. I had a little breakdown at the therapist's this week, although it was probably hugely blown out of proportion due to my hangover. Was the fact that I was hungover directly related to my little breakdown? Perhaps. Trying to cut loose and have fun and not staying in control. But that's the old Tiffany, the pre-children Tiffany or at least the pre-Teagan Tiffany. I've been working so hard to stay zen and it hasn't been that hard considering all the work I've done in therapy lately so I just don't get it. But that IS typical Tiffany, questioning things when they are going well and then subconsciously stirring it up a little, adding a little drama or hiccup to make it feel normal again. Not that I'm a drama queen by any means, but I'm emotional and introspective and somewhat suspicious I suppose. I'm loving being a mother and I know I'm a good one but geez, I've only got two kids not five or eight or...I think my true calling has yet to be discovered. The real reason I'm here, the real things waiting for me to get done. Then again maybe I'm digging too deep and just trying to imagine some greater cause because I'm not taking care of making me happy, just everyone else. Times like these I can see how people can be so devoted to their religions, but I'm not religious so where does that leave me? It sure feels like the needle is stuck again. I need to stop creating drama, feeling sorry for myself and not taking charge of my own needs. What are my needs though? That feels like the hardest part of all of this. Is it daily yoga or running or some sort of exercise? Is it being hyper-strictly bordering on obsessively regimented with my health and nutrition? Is it making one piece of jewelry a day? Is it painting or drawing or doing photography every day? Is it writing every day, either my blog or in my journal or starting my book? Or maybe just curling up with my hubby on the couch for a little snuggle time each night. I've turned myself into a quasi ice queen and poor Tony is suffering.
My "homework" from my therapist this week was to think about where all my guilt comes from and why I don't think I'm good enough. Oh and then she wants to see me Monday so I don't even get a whole week to do my homework ;) Guilt...I dunno. I can speculate but don't think I will here, I think I'll keep that can of worms between my therapist and me. Not good enough...well that kinda follows the guilt thing. None of it too tragic but impactful all the same. My therapist impressed on me this wasn't a crisis but rather a flare up of old behavior, then after an extra long end-of-session hug she told me I would get through this, that I was strong. Then she said something to me that keeps ringing in my ears, she said "you are one of the strongest people I know." Wow.
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