May 15, 2008 by Marj Hatzell
WARNING: DANGER. DANGER. DANGER WILL ROBINSON. MAJOR RANT AHEAD. IF YOU DO NOT HAVE IT IN YOU TO BE FACED WITH DOOM AND GLOOM, SLOWLY STEP AWAY FROM YOUR COMPUTER NOW. I REPEAT, STEP AWAY FROM YOUR COMPUTER NOW.
See, I was gonna write about how awesome the weather is and how today is Thursday, which means veggie day (CSA delivery) and how I had nothing scheduled today except for breakfast with my BFF Dr.Betsy and how I am helping my friend by watching her (sleeping) daughter while she stays with her mother at the hospital and how life is going really well and I couldn’t be happier and HAPPY, HAPPY, JOY, JOY, TRA-LA-LA-LA-LA, it’s so freaking AWESOME how AWESOME it is around here! AWESOME!!!11!!! Eleventy!
Instead we had a fifty-minute meltdown with Bug Boy, Bugaboo wouldn’t eat breakfast, Darling left in a huff because we were arguing (over the fact that Bug Boy wouldn’t take his meds) and I had to literally shove the pill in Bug Boy’s mouth to get him to take it. As in, the microscopic pill. The HALF PILL that he takes that dissolves in his mouth in ten seconds? That one. He decided that the OCTAGONAL HORSE PILL was easy and the little teeny half-pill was TOO HARD TO TAKE. Then I had to wrestle him and shove it in there because in over fifty minutes he got more and more anxious, started the throwing up nonsense (third day in a row he MAKES HIMSELF GAG) and was hiccuping he was so upset. And wouldn’t take it. And threatening to take away Wii and computer and tv and bribe him with Wii and computer and tv wasn’t cutting the mustard. In fact, even when I said, “YOU’LL STAY HOME FROM SCHOOL AND MISS CHESS CLUB!” And he was all, “Nooooooooo! Not chess club! Anything but chess club! I HAVE TO GO TO CHESS CLUB! AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!” He still wouldn’t take the pill.
See, it’s all about control these days. The boy is so anxious that he starts hyperventilating and literally gets hives. This makes me regret taking him off of the anti-anxiety med he was on for a few months (it doubled as a seizure med and we felt it was unnecessary) because since January when he stopped taking it he is so anxious BRUSHING HIS TEETH gives him hives. Sigh. In order to make himself feel better, he’s become a bit of a control freak. What I mean is, he wants everything a certain way at a certain time at a certain temperature in a certain order. I’ll tell him it is 8:15 and he says, “IT’S NOT! IT’S 8:13 and you are TRYING TO RUIN MY LIFE!” or I tell him it’s time for Sunday School and he says, “IT’S NOT SUNDAY SCHOOL! IT’S CALLED CCD! YOU ARE TRYING TO RUIN ME!” or I say, “Hey! Wanna snack?” And he’s all, “NO! It’s a HEALTHY SNACK!” Holy. Stinking. Crud.
Eggshells. Organic cage-free eggshells. I’m walking on them.
I tells ya, I doona think she kin take much more, Keptin! She’s gonna blow, fer sure! Srsly, I’ve had it. I know that spring and anxiety and health issues have much to do with it but I am sooooo tired of being patient. I am soooooo tired of being attacked by a pack of wolf-children every day from four until eight. I am soooooo tired of the husband working late (I think on purpose to escape H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks on earth). I am so tired of people not getting my jokes and thinking I am some sort of flighty whackadoo. Like some of the other moms in Bug Boy’s class? They look at me as if I have three heads. Hello! Our kids are in the SAME CLASS. SO THERE! And when I make the joke about Bugaboo being like a cross between Speedy Gonzalez and a Chinchilla, that’s funny because SPEEDY GONZALEZ IS A CHINCHILLA.
Whew. That felt good. Nothing like a good cathartic meltdown, eh?
The good news is that once Bug Boy took the freaking pill and ate his freaking egg and we cuddled on the freaking couch, he was sooooo freaking much better. Except he missed the bus. So we cuddled until right before he had to go to school and we whispered and talked about when he was a baby and hugged and apologized to one another for our rough hour and made promises that we’d start all over, pretend the mornind didn’t happen and learn from it and move on. The end.
Except it isn’t. I pray tomorrow is an easier day. See, the reason I am a SAHM mom is not only so I can be available to do things like BE TOO STOOPID TO SAY NO to volunteering in class and go get Bugaboo every five minutes when he runs his random fevers and go to duPont Hospital for Children with my kids four-to-six times a month. It’s because it takes me six hours to recuperate from their morning antics and recharge my batteries and clean up my freaking pig-sty-of-a-house before the deluge of children that hits me each day. I need six hours to deal with kids for four hours. For those of you not good at math, that’s like…there’s absolutely no correlation whatsoever, so pay no attention to the man Queen behind the curtain. Because DG has lost it for sure and she’s sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth and sucking her thumb and muttering to herself about walking to Hawaii and living in a leper colony.