Am I Mental?

So, this past month I have been trying to figure out if I am having a nervous breakdown, just incredibly busy, a little depressed, perhaps over-tired, or maybe just the stay at home mom of a rather challenging four year old. Does everyone feel like this sometimes? Because lately I think I may be verging on psychotic (ask my family, if you think I exaggerate!)


In all seriousness, it has been rather nuts these last few weeks. We are in the throws of building our cabin. Not just a hunting cabin, although Clay will certainly use it as such come hunting season, and it is on the hunting property. No, we are planning it more for a fall/winter weekend retreat .... a place we can go to and have a bonfire in the evening, go snowshoeing during the day, sit around the gas stove at night and watch the deer in the field in the fall. It is coming along nicely, but as with all projects it involves a lot of time and effort and planning. Clay is understandably, shall we say, "focused" on this and only this, which at times has me feeling like a matador trying to wave a red cape in front of a bull to get his attention. However, since he has been dreaming of building this cabin since .... well .... birth, I keep trying to remind myself to be patient. And, in truth, I, too, am very excited about it and look forward to creating many wonderful memories there.


No, I think my crazy up and down moods mostly hinge on Miss Isabelle's own crazy up and down moods, but what do you expect from a four year old, right? She just happens to be going through an especially difficult phase right now with a lot (and I mean a lot .... did I mention A LOT) of defiant behavior (insert backtalk, slamming doors, stomping feet, yelling, screaming and more whining then I would ever care to admit) here. Before you start picturing my daughter as the horrible neighborhood child next door, let me be sure to tell you she still has her wonderful moments too, where she gives me a million kisses on my cheeks, flashes me that adorable grin and says something hysterical. Isabelle's cutest thing at the moment is her love affair with "Fat Cat" her prized stuffed animal, which as you probably surmised by now is a fat orange cat she takes everywhere with her, whether it is bike riding, a t-ball game, the grocery store, or to Wisconsin for our recent visit with her cousins, Anya and Gideon.

But while trying to recognize the normalcy of her not-so-nice behavior, my frustrations lie more in the increase in Isabelle's acting out and the fact that she is not afraid to engage in it non-private settings (Not so fun for yours truly.) This combined with Clay's one track mind and our busy schedule, I think has pushed me to my patience quota for the day more frequently then usual and has left me rather rough around the edges. For example, this past weekend. It occurred to me as I drove back home following my previously mentioned visit to my brother's house, that Kurt might be pondering his sister's mental health, considering that I turned into a puddle of tears Sunday evening following about the billionth meltdown of Isabelle's that day (okay, I exaggerate; it was about the 10th, but you get my point). Hopefully, I did not scare Kurt and Chrissy too badly as I adore them more then they will ever know.


Nonetheless, as I watch Princess Isabelle splash contentedly (for the moment!) in her bathtub, I feel a familiar lump in my throat as I think of how beautiful she is and how lucky I am to have her. It is what is so remarkable and amazing about children ... they make you crazy.... nuts... insane ... but you love them so fiercely, with such a rabid devotion, and there is absolutely nothing you would not do to keep them safe, make them happy, and help them grow into the best people they can be. Which is perhaps precisely why I sometimes find myself questioning my own mental health! But I'm guessing I am as mentally stable as the next mom, and like that next mom, we have our "made for television" moments straight out of a Hallmark movie and those that, well, let's just say might make it onto one of those "Nanny 911" shows. It doesn't mean we are crazy, mental, depressed, or anything else. It just means we are human.

So, tomorrow I will awaken Princess Isabelle and we will either "go to the ball" or "wage war" as needed. Bring it on. This mom is ready. (straight-jacket and all).