My Pretzel Personality

Ask pretty much anyone to name something that is twisted, and they will say a pretzel. Unless they know me. Then they will say it is my personality. I'm okay with that. I have long accepted that I am strange. Most people have trouble thinking outside the box. I was never given a box, or if I was, I probably packed any of my "normal" personality traits in it and mailed it years ago.

I used to drive my husband crazy with my "creative thinking." Now, he just rolls his eyes and walks away. I have never been able to take the eggs out of the carton from one side to the other. I told my husband it keeps the eggs guessing who's next, but it actually distributes the weight in the carton so one end is not heavier than the other. That, and it's fun to watch someone else open a carton I have already gotten to, and compulsively have to put the eggs back in order. My daughter is embarrased by me because I read magazines back to front. One of my favorite pasttimes is to sing heavy metal songs in my best operatic voice. The bonus to this is that it embarrasses the heck out of my kids, especially if I do it in Walmart. I talk to my fish, pick things up off the floor with my toes, call my cats dogs, eat the ridges off a peanut butter cup, then suck the peanut butter out, sleep with a teddy bear that has one eye and no nose, and I won't kill bugs (with the exception of mosquitos) for fear that I might cause them pain before they die. I love to watch shows about horrific murders (I've seen Hollywood's Most Shocking Murders three times,) but then my strange little mind starts to run away with me, so I end up locking all of the doors and sleeping with a light on. Now, I know all of this just sounds like I'm bragging (LOL) but I do have a point to all of this. In order to properly parent any child, much less three children with RAD, a parent needs to be well rested and emotionally energized. They need to take care of themselves before they can take care of their kids. I've forgotten how to do this. I'm so used to taking care of others, that I have forgotten how to take care of myself. When asked recently if I could go out with my husband and not talk about the kids, what needs to be done around the house, or my husband's job, I answered, "Sure. We just won't talk." One of the last times we went out, we talked about jobs needing to be done around home and went to the movies. We saw a kid's movie. The story of my life!!!

I'm supposed to make a list of some hobbies or activities that relax and recharge me. My list looked something like this:

1. Eat all the middles out of the Oreos and put the cookies back in the package.

2. See how many mini marshmallows I can put in my mouth and still sing the Star Spangled Banner.

3. Decorate the house for Halloween in July.

4. Wear swim fins and a snorkle in the bath tub.

5. Make racecar noises when driving the kids to school.

6. Pretend to talk back to my Rice Krispies-- Wait, who's pretending?!

I must admit, some of the things I think about even scare me. On the outside, I appear to be somewhat normal, something my children are very thankful for. I can play by the rules, be a team player, and stay "inside the box" when I have to. But tell me the sky's the limit, and I will paint it purple and fly with the raccoons. Not even sure what that means, but it sure will be fun to find out. I wonder if I have enough glitter to recreate the solar system on the side of my van, Hmmm?