It's the baby fuss-fuss.

Forgive me if this is disjointed.

A bunch of my friends are leaving right now to head down to Ani's house. Sweet baby Lily's funeral is Sunday. My financial means are not at a place where I could hop a plane and go ... even if I could afford it, there's no flights out of Columbus to Little Rock at this short notice anyhow.

I was so angry and frustrated at Princess last night, she was SO BAD. I mean, we had to leave Target because she wouldn't quit arching her back and screaming in temper fits. I was so super embarrassed. And I got so angry driving to work this morning at her, because she kept yelling MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY! until I would say "what!". One time though, I said what and she points to herself and goes ... "It's the baby fuss-fuss". Baby fuss-fuss is what I used to call her when she was so little and tiny. At that precise moment, it totally hit home. I'm sitting here bitching that my kid is "bad" and that she makes me so angry ... and Ani is preparing to bury her child. What is my problem? I should be THANKFUL that she's so ornery, and blessed that she wakes up every morning and says ... "Hi Mommy!" I should rejoice that she jumps on the bed, instead of yelling at her not to do it. I don't know if I could survive without my little fuss-fuss.

You have no idea how much my heart is breaking lately. It's like my body just can't make enough tears to keep up with what life keeps handing me. I know that God doesn't give you more than He trusts that you can handle ... I just wish He didn't trust me so much. And I wish He'd quit continually rubbing salt in my wounds while He's at it.

Again, sorry if this is disjointed ... don't mind me ...