Our toilet leaked and that was my fault.
Mr. O isn't sleeping so very well and that's my fault.
Mr. O is a holy terror and it's because I'm doing something wrong so again, my fault.
I *know* that it's not my fault. I mean c'mon. I can't directly effect things so much that it's like the world around me is ending. Perhaps it's because I've been reading The Night Circus where everything does rely on 2 characters. Who the heck knows? I can tell you that I've spent most nights in tears because I feel like I'm failing my son.
I'm terrified that I'm going to screw him up.
I'm terrified that I'm going to be at fault if he gets hurt (he has a bruise in his ear...how the hell do you get a bruise in your ear?!)
I'm terrified that I'm not cut out to be a stay at home mom and that I'm going to ruin all our big plans by failing at this one important thing.
I'm terrified that I'm not going to be motivated enough to get through my classes this semester.
I'm terrified that I'm not going to be able to keep us within our budget.
I'm terrified that I'm going to miscarry our new baby.
So I spend a lot of time, banging my head against a wall, trying not to overburden my husband with my pregnancy hormone induced crazy train.
I've got some errands to do today and it's sunny and beautiful and I'm hoping that I'll be able to shake these feelings I woke up with.
I think some Ozzy Osbourne might be necessary today. Spotify, here I come.
