This past week has been really rough. The Rabid Ferret seems to be on an extended visit. Working retail during the holiday season hasn't really helped that any either, but that's not the only thing. I just have no more tolerance for people anymore.

Everyone seems so fake and idiotic right now–and I KNOW, I know… It's winter. I always get hit with seasonal depression, yet it always seems to blindside me, nonetheless. Well, you know what they say about the definition of insanity…haha.

Problem is, I don'just feel blue–to the you the truth, I'm not sad at all–I get enraged by everything people say or imply or post on facebook. You name it, it manages to piss me off. The Ferret has very nearly packed up her red suitcase and left, but I'm still pissed off all the time.

For instance, my sister has been on and off the phone with me for the past couple of months, crying that she needs to get out of the house and spend time with her husband (who's in grad school) because all she ever does is take care of their three kids day in and day out. She feels alone and frazzled and depressed…etc.

She FINALLY sets up childcare for a Friday night and her hubby gets tickets to some Celtic X-mas thing and now she's posting on FB, trying to sell the tickets becasue her son's X-mas concert is on the same night.

The reason I'm angry is that nowadays people act as though they need to sacrifice EVERY ounce of time, energy, and sanity for silly things like that. Sure, the boy will be disappointed if only his grandparents are there, but he'll get over it and my sister will have gotten her much needed and deserved night out. He's going on 7–there will be 5000 more concerts and games and science fairs and what-the-hell-ever…

POINT BEING: He's not going to be damaged over something like that. Shit, our parents didn't show up to every event we had. It didn't matter, as long as they showed up whenever they could.

I know I shouldn't care–but I feel as though they don't TRY to teach him to get over the small things. They just chase their kids around trying to make everything unrealistically picture perfect–teach them that mommy and daddy will never live their own lives. Never try to teach their kids to care about other people's needs.

I guess it pisses me off because of the way we were brought up. No, my parents weren't always there. No, we didn't have very many toys or go on vacations, but we understood why Mom and Dad were tired after work and we understood why we couldn't have the latest game system or talking doll.

We drew and played imagination games–instead of following my mom around the house complaining of boredom (mainly because she would have given us chores to "entertain" ourselves with.)

See, this is part of why I'm no longer interested in being a mother. There's this unspoken belief that once you have kids, you should be ashamed of trying to LIVE–of trying to have a date with your husband once a month or having a seperate indentity. Suddenly being human–being a WOMAN–is selfish and everyone will agree you shouldn't breed.

Horseshit. This isn't the 1950s. Life is messy and sometimes messy can be wonderful.