Don't make me pee on my territory.

I am not pleased with how many people I'm "friends" with on Facebook.  The other day I got a request from Ant's best friend's sister.  This is the girl who HAS TO come over any time Bubba does.  And she's usually sick.  She's either hacking like crazy without covering her mouth (and giving me dirty looks when I ask her to) or vomiting in my sink.  I have hated Eva Mendes for a while now and just recently I realized why- she looks just like this little princess.  Ahh.

So here I am trying to decide if this new blog place is worth moving to and I would like some feedback.  There are a lot of things I want to vent about but I can't on Facebook because I'm "friends" with the child.  Right now he's drinking out of my favorite glass in the whole wide world.  THIS IS NOT ALLOWED.  Go ahead, call me insane- I know it.  Chris told me I was crazy for putting my favorite glasses on a high shelf to keep Ant away from them.  I could pretend like I do that just so that he won't break them, and that may be part of it, but I also just don't want him using that one.  It's mine.  Sorry.  I reminded Chris that he has a favorite plate.  He said yes, he does, but he doesn't need to use it all the time.  He even volunteered to go home and break said plate to show how little he was attached to it.  Um, don't do that.

Mom thinks it's a privacy thing, or a lack thereof.  I can see that.  On the trip I got horribly grossed out when Chris packed our bathroom stuff to move to Tracy's and he put my toothbrush in Ant's toothbrush holder.  It's not the long rectangular thing that holds the whole toothbrush; I might have been able to deal with that.  It was the kind that you shove down over the head of the toothbrush.  No, no, no.  I expressed my stress to Tracy and she had a few new toothbrushes on hand, thank god.

Did I complain about that already?  If so I'm sorry.

I will go cook dinner and try to rein myself in a bit.  I will rescue the glass at the first opportunity and put it on an even higher shelf.  Or I'll pull a Jody and just hide it in my room.  Chris thinks I need my own apartment that I can keep just so.  Yeah, I do, so don't inspire me to go get one.

I don't hate this kid- far from it.  But I don't want his cooties.  You may not believe it, but it's hard to confess to being this immature.  I can't help it.  My counselor challenged me to figure out what I need and I thought Mom was probably right about the privacy thing.  I posed that to Chris and the conversation didn't go well.  He took it as though I am never happy.  Well... of course not.  But I would probably be a little less controlling if he would return my things- respect my stuff.  Ant does much better at this than Chris does, but Ant receives the anger from it.  How the hell does that work?  Now I feel like an asshole.  I often feel like the asshole.