Well. We just signed the papers for the real big fat mortgage on the house. Also just realized that we need a new transport vehicle as trusty red truck is nigh unto death. Also our really untrustworthy tenants have moved on and left us hanging with two mortgage payments. I am all awash in middle class worry and woe. My o my do I hate all of it.

I want to be like that James Spader character in Sex, Lies, and Videotape. I just want the one key. I'd ruther forage for food than stare at this computer screen some more.

That's probably my middle class privilege talking, yes? Amazing how fast all of this stuff traps you but good. The part that breaks me up is that I'm pretty sure I'm on my own with the angsty middle class woes. Jeff seems pretty much ok with all of this. I about broke my heart this morning when I felt the crushing weight of STUFF and DEBT as I looked at the mortgage papers this morning and then I said, "do you think I need anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medication?" And he said, "maybe so. you do seem to have a hard time with all of this."

Sometimes I wonder if it's me or if it's this life. I really wonder. Because I was ok with fewer keys, you understand. I struggled, but I was able to find myself and peace. I have been yelling as loud as I can lo these years that I need things to be more simple. Not so many projects, not so much stuff, not so much debt. Let's take care of what we have, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.

But I am still right here, signing the damned papers. Who can I be mad at about this?

And my tooth hurts (o dentists) and I don't know how to have friends I guess or how to not be hurt hurt hurt every time I see Jeff's parents. Do you know what did it this time? Firstly, she told a ohsofunny story about how she thinks that Matilda has the same "high energy" as Ossie (read: bad children) and that it must because they've been raised by Mr. Mom. And then she laughed and laughed at the funniness. I want to cry because

a. I love my kids and think they are both grand and not bad and Ossie is perfectly kind and considerate and not even hyper! And Matilda is 11 months old! But neither child is like cousin Gabriel who is Perfect Model Child who likes sitting still and not getting dirty and reading books. He's lovely, yes. But my kids like dirt.

and

b. Where am I in any of this? Am I not doing any parenting? Does that mean that I must not be doing anything because if a real mother were involved these children would somehow be different? And riddle me this world o world: why do people assume that because Jeff and I co-parent as equally as we are able that this is a difficiency on my part and some great magical quality on his? This is conscious work over here to make sure neither of us is telling the other how to take care of the kids, neither of us is treating the other as babysitter.

Also, and this one is so small, so embarrassing, but still, I can't shake it. What happened was this: Jeff's mom made dessert and Jeff's dad gave me and Jeff equal helpings. And then, after I was several bites into mine, Jeff's mom came tearing across the room (a small party in full swing), grabbed it out of my hand and forced upon me (nevermind my protests) a helping of dessert that was positively gargantuan. THIS was to be MY dessert. The small, normal-sized helping was for her. I know I looked bewildered and confused as this happened. And then, as it sunk into me (she thinks I am large and must need huge helpings--and believe me I am not making that up--this woman is NOT subtle about anything), I started to cry. Quietly and unobtrusively, but yes, in public. And then I pretended that Ossie had to have something upstairs and left and I never came back down and now Jeff's mom thinks I hate her (which...) and ugh. It's a very silent drama happening. And Jeff told me that he felt "inthemiddle" and I told him that no sir he was not because I am not saying a word about it to him. But I doubt myself with the Gannons, that's true. Doubt doubt doubt.

I don't feel good about myself these days. That is the theme, eh?

I think, too, that I am in dire need of some spiritual guidance. With relief I gave up on atheism last month. I've been willing myself into it since Randolph County but I can't keep it up any more. It's not me, not at all. I must have someone or something to pray to. I know in my head that this must be some kind of human wretchedness, but my heart and my spirit need it. I am so thirsty and so tired and so alone in the desert over here. God must have mercy on me.