Worry Wart

I've always been a worry wart. This in turn, has made me into a planner, so that I could try to combat all of the worries I could possibly foresee. My planning skills make my husband mental, but keep me feeling as secure as possible.

These days the worries are all the more intense- from worrying about keeping my job in this ever sinking economy, to worrying about something happening to my kids, to worrying that I'll never be able to own a home with the credit market the way it is. Worries, worries, worries, everywhere you turn.

Aside from rabid planning, worry often turns in to anxiety. Lately when small things begin to snowball in my stressed out brain, the anxiety builds until my skin becomes hot an itchy and my insides feels like their going to turn inside out. The anxiety hovers on the edge of my consciousness, always ready to strike, to put me in a strangle hold of fear and tension.
It breaks up my concentration, and leaves me out of focus and irritable.

Though I've been trying different ways to help me through the anxiety attacks, I think I'll always be a worrier at my core. But, it's not always a bad thing. Worrying over bills keeps me on top of our finances. Worrying about the kids keeps me a vigilant parent. Worrying about loosing my job makes me work harder in order to keep it.

So here's to my worry, and to all of the other worriers out there as we try to muddle through the best we can...

You Know You're a Lame Ass When........

- New area rugs are the highlight of your month

- Invited to go out for drinks at one of the hippest places in town, with some of the coolest women you know, you decline in favor of crawling into your pj's and cuddling with your dogs while watching the latest episode of Dollhouse

- When you find yourself looking forward to taking your daughter to see the Hannah Montana movie, because it will an exciting night out on the town

- The last place you went out to eat ended with the word "buffet" or featured people in costumes
-"Sleeping In" is anything past 6 a.m.

WTF Snow!?!

Open Letter to Mother Nature

Dear Mother Nature,

We've had some good times together, right? You had the grace not to rain on my wedding, and have given us some lovely summers at the beach. The winters, I deal with- I know that's my burden to bear for choosing to live in Maine. So in the winter months, I clench my jaw, wake up an hour early, and go shovel out the damn driveway so I can inch my way to work. I accept that.
But seriously? I'm done. Why is it you keep choosing to dump mind boggling piles of snow on me on Sunday nights? Do you not think my Monday mornings are quite joyous enough? Do you snicker while I swear out in the driveway, coffee-less, and falling on my rear in the snow just so I can start my week off wet, cold and generally pissed off? And seriously, do you really have to do this in March, while I'm carrying the emergency work pager, so every single person I work with can call me at the butt-crack of dawn and tell me they're not coming in to work? Seriously?!
So now I will humbly grovel for your mercy. Please, no more. One more shovel full of snow on a Monday morning, and I may go postal......

Yours Truly,

Sarcasta-Mom