Woe is me, dammit

2004-10-05 at 1:06 p.m.


I'm having a day where everything I touch turns to pure shit.

In addition to deleting a rather long, detailed diary entry this morning, I also burned my neck with a straightening iron, jammed my finger on the drum of the washing machine and I "clapped" a fly in mid-air (as cool as this was to have had such good aim, I was then left with fly guts on my palms... not pleasant for anyone, let alone a squeamish germaphobe).

I also had run-in's with all my children. I threw a pot of boiling macaroni down the drain, because I stupidly forgot to place a colander in the sink. This is NOT the first time to have done that. Even as my mind said, "Hey dipshit. You didn't put a colander in the sink", my arms just kept emptying that macaroni.

I'm not having a good day.

It started with this morning, which actually started last night. Allow me to cast my mind back, if you will...

Yesterday, I stripped every bed in the house and sprayed every mattress with Lysol. I allowed the beds to air most of the day, then I vaccuumed them. I then remade the beds with fresh, clean sheets. In all, I did ten loads of laundry yesterday and I'm not done yet.

Yesterday afternoon, I went outside to retrieve E from his bus. Usually, I see to it that J and G are safely occupied, then I sneak out a little early to have a few minutes to myself. Sitting outside is one of things I miss most about my life before children. Think about it... once you have kids, something as simple as sitting quietly outside is forever changed. If I take the kids with me, I'm constantly having to watch them to make sure they don't run into the street. They never stay where they're supposed to stay and I end up so frustrated, I'm ready to come unglued.

This is what happened yesterday.

The kids caught me sneaking out and followed me. NOTE: If I were to have forbid them to come outside with me, G would have stood at the window, screaming and slamming a $50 pair of wood blinds against the glass. J would just ignore the warning and come outside anyway. So I figure I was saving myself grief by allowing them out. They ran for a bit, when my neighbor came down the street, followed immediately by E's bus.

I tried to corral the kids away from the street with the bus approaching. They both ignored me. I raised my voice. They ignored me. I threatened punishment and they both just kept running away from me. It never ceases to amaze me how infrequently my children behave, especially if they have the chance to publicly humiliate me. I had to run after them (I don't run, by the way) and grab them both by the arms and drag them to the awaiting bus.

E started right in abusing me, with this newfound snotty attitude of his. He condescends to me like I was shit stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

After he'd been inside for about an hour, he elected to go to his room and take a nap. I explained what I had done with all the beds that morning and told him I would appreciate if he used the bathroom prior to lying down and to remove his quilt in case he did have an accident. He said, "Whatever!" and proceeded upstairs. About an hour later, when dinner was ready, I went to his room to wake him. I found him, his quilt, his clothes and his sheets SOAKED with piss.

*Sigh*

Now, I have all the sympathy in the world for a kid almost nine years old who still wets the bed. I was a bed-wetter, as were my mother and brother. I realize it's nothing he can control. But when he's asleep only an hour and still manages to soak a bed, it tells me he did NOT use the bathroom before his nap as I had asked, nor did he remove the quilt that's so heavy, it takes the entire day to dry after it's been wahsed. A wet bed would have been bad enough anyday, but on a day when I had just done so much work... it rubbed me the wrong way.

I stripped his bed wildly, as I screamed, "GODDAMNIT! When is this going to STOP?! You are almost NINE YEARS OLD?! When are you going to learn to use the toilet?" Just then, I noticed E's windows were open and the neighbor across the street was out. He heard every word I said and how loudly I said it. I'm sure he thinks I'm the world's worst mother and neighbor alike.

I'm just so frustrated that 99% of what I spend my day doing, is as a result of other people and their refusal to listen to me.

K took the older boys and E's friend swimming again last night, and after the way E treated his dad, it'll be the last time for awhile. Evidently, all E did was use profanity the entire time.

~ He refused to shower and get dressed after swimming.

~ He slapped his swimming trunks against the shower walls so loud, it startled the hell out of everyone there.

~ He demanded that K take them to McDonald's for milkshakes and when K told him no, E called him a "stupid cheapskate".

Now, I'm the first to admit that K is alot of things, but cheap isn't one of them.

K said he was so hurt and so embarrassed by the way E talked to him in front of the entire men's locker room, the he refuses to take him swimming again for a long, long time.

Despite his horrible treatment of others, E still think the world owes him, and owes him BIG.

It continued this morning with E refusing to get out of bed. I decided to start taking a hard stand with this child even if it means risking his rages and wrath. I'm tired of him holding the threat of violence over my head. I'm being held hostage by my own child.

For not getting his ass out of bed, I took away his TV for the night.

For not getting his ass out of bed five minutes later, he lost playing outside for a week.

For making me drag his ass out of bed and not getting dressed when he was asked, he lost his TV for an additional week.

For the shabby treatment of his father last night at the pool, he loses swimming for a week. (Maybe longer if K decides he doesn't want to take him again - I wouldn't blame him if he didn't)

I'm not sure why E is resisting going to school all of a sudden. I think maybe the honeymoon period of a new school is wearing off. Whatever it is - I don't like it. If he does this again tomorrow, I'll have nothing left of value to him to take away.

Finally something snapped and he got dressed and came downstairs as he was told. From then on, he was back to being his sweet self.

These episodes are taking their toll on me. Physically, I'm exhausted. Mentally, I'm a basket case. It just sucks the very life out of me to deal with this.

J and G have their moments, too. J contradicts every word out of my mouth and wants to argue about everything. G hits me and shrieks when he doesn't get his way. I find myself longing more and more for my trip in 26 more days.

And sometimes... just sometimes, wishing I could go back in time. To maybe June 1, 1995. Maybe I'd have said, "Hey honey, let's go to a movie!" instead of "Hey honey, I'm ovulating! Get undressed!"

I might regret saying that, but for now... let's just let it stand.



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