Welcome Fucking Home
2004-11-10 at 1:00 p.m.
Things are trying to get back to normal (pffft!) around here. I always feel so discombobulated after returning home from a trip. I wander around, not sure what it is I should be doing.
E has given me a baptism of fire the past few days, just to reconfirm why I need to get the hell away from here in the first place. He had two rages yesterday and one this morning. So much for Pro-zac! I wonder if I should even refill them. Yesterday's rages revolved around his lumberjack appetite. All he wants to do is eat. I try to offer healthy snacks to keep him full, with the occassional treat so he doesn't feel deprived of sweets.
Yesterday, his para sent home a good note, raving about the day he had had. I was stunned, because his morning here was not exactly pleasant. As a reward, I gave him a slice of chocolate mint pie.
(Why do I have chocolate mint pie on hand with a lumberjack in my midst, you ask? Well, because a neighbor kid was selling it as a fundraiser and I'm a sucker for shit like that, that's why... )
As I'm slicing the pie, I prepared to tell him that this would be his treat for the day - not to expect more after dinner. He beat me to it and said, "I won't ask for dessert. This will be all for the day."
Good, I'm glad he understands.
Until after dinner, that is. He finished his food and asked for more pie. I reminded him of our deal and he flipped out. I also reminded him that if he doesn't start watching what he eats, he'll have a weight problem when he's older. (At eight years old and 80 pounds, he's already a tad on the pudgy side - nothing really to worry about, but something to be aware of, anwyay) I try not to cause him to have a low self-image, but at the same time, he needs to learn some self-control.
Kev!n, at well over 300 pounds and I, at not much under *snarffle*muffled*muted* pounds, struggle with our weight and have all our lives. I'm trying to save E from the heartbreak of being overweight. He doesn't seem to care. He just wants to eat everything is sight and will rage until he gets what he wants.
I told him that if he would stop throwing a fit like a two year old, I would give him some strawberries, one of his few healthy indulgences. He refused. I told him that he sometimes has to accept that the answer is no. He told me that I sometimes need to shut up...
Welcome home, mom!!
I told him that he just bought himself second floor accomodations at the 13'x12' Hilton for the rest of the evening. I had to physically drag 80 pounds worth of smart ass up two flights of stairs to get him to go to his room, but I wasn't going to stand for being spoken to that way.
The little shit.
This, combined with Gr!ff!n's new phrase, "I cahn't!" whenever anything is asked of him, and I'm ready for another damned vacation.