Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Today everything went wrong...

Oh, I did not want to get up this morning. My bed was so nice and cozy and it pleaded with me, "Please, don't go." I should have listened.

So, Alex has this thing going, I'm pretty sure it's allergies because it's not just Alex. There's me, too. and Goofy and the Little D. and it sucks. The amount of slime running through this house would put Figure It Out to shame. Anyway, so, Alex needs meds. We have liquid. Liquid is fine for everyone BUT Alex, so Thing1 picked up some orange koolaid mix to hide his in. and the heathens found it. This morning, I'm on a frantic search for anything to put these meds in and the only thing I can find is hot chocolate. Alex can't have milk, he can't have chocolate and he can't go without meds so, the lesser of the evils, hot chocolate mix in water it is. Alex balks. He throws the sippy cup and it starts gushing everywhere. Fine. I fix another drink and put it in a glass. I turn around to grab his oatmeal, he sticks his hand in the glass and it overflows all over him, the table, the floor... Fine. I get the oral syringe. Mama "wins" but neither one of us are happy about it. I just barely get him on the bus.

Then, you know those kids that are just SLOW in everything they do? Like dragging feet, take an hour to get dressed, didn't brush their teeth before school, eating at the bus stop because they refused to get a freakin move on slow? Yeah. The Goofy one had yet another one of those mornings.

When the kids are out the door and I think I've got the morning to myself and there's not a single thing aside from my lovely cyber-friends that needs my attention for the next few hours, I get a text request for a phone call. I don't like phone calls. It's been a while since I had a good rant on exactly how much I hate my phone but no worries, I will not subject you to that now, I'll just say... Walter's sooooo gonna get it when he gets home. Remember I was telling you about Walter shocking the hell out of me with his argument with a friend? It was a stupid one but jaw dropping just the same considering the fact that I thought I taught my boy better... Walter's friend popped off with a joke that he was "straighter than the pole your mama dances on" which Walter didn't find funny at all and shot back a comment that at least his mama could get on a pole. I thought, you know, kid stuff. They'll fight it out and be back to playing whenever. The phone call says different, that the bickering goes beyond pole dancing mamas and extends to "girlfriends" and $40 hats and physical skirmishes. The "girlfriend" gets quotes because 1) he's 12. 2) He's in Missouri, she's in Texas. 3) I'm not completely convinced that his duck faced, oddly posed, skimpily clad, pre-teen "girlfriend" isn't a a fat, balding, middle aged man with a hankering for little boys. but, anyway, I hate my phone. and I hate when my child goes to someone else's house and ignores my parting shot of "Don't embarrass your mother." Do they think we say these things just to hear ourselves talk? As with in any story, there are 3 sides- his side, the other side and the truth. I'm betting the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

There's no way this day can go but up, right? HA! Next came the thing on my page. well, not so much a thing as being unliked loudly. twice. by the same person. In a post where every single one of my rules were broken with "moron" and "idiot" being thrown around and people shouting here and there and outrage running rampant and I said  f--k it! have at it. open season. All rules are out because as far as this subject goes, I'm just too damned tired to fight it. For the record... There is no connection between planned, violent behavior and an autism spectrum diagnosis of any kind.  Just go ask Jim, he'll tell you.

By the time I'm done with that, I'm good and mad and looking to vent my frustrations. With 30 minutes left before the Goofy child gets home, I'm going for a workout. a hardcore, kickass workout. and let me tell you, 2lbs makes more of a difference than you even know. 2lbs on the hips is nothing but when it's dangling at the end of your arms while you twist your body into poses it was never ever meant to contort into, that 2lb effing sucks! I was cussing that woman up one side and down the other. a 20 minute work out gave me 10 minutes to lie sprawled in the floor gasping for breath before I had to drag my sweaty self out in the cold air to get my Goofy child off of the bus.

The Goofy child is not a happy camper. Didn't see that one coming, did ya? First, some other bus gave out balloons today. but not to Goofy. and that was just not fair. Even though his own bus driver gave him a fire truck to make up for not having balloons. Then, I get hit with the news that today was a pajama party and he didn't get to wear his pajamas because I (with the implication being the worst mom ever) didn't put any on him. So, I, being the adult in this duo and perfectly capable of owning my mistakes, shoot back, "Well, what did you want me to do, send you in your diaper?" (while thinking, damnit! that would have made this morning so much easier!!!) "Mom, it's a pajama party. you wear your pajamas. not what you sleep in. you should have give me pajamas." Since my little spawns of darkness didn't pull their tricks out of thin air, I reach into my vast inventory and pull out the decoy play. which leads into negotiations. I offer the library, he counters with the park. I tempt with no story time, he sticks with the park. I counter with computer time and he takes it. So, I lost my computer for the afternoon but didn't hear another word about pajamas. win/win. I get him set up and moan and groan about my legs being jelly. He takes a good long look at my legs and says, "You filled your legs with jelly?" um, no. "Well, I thought you said your legs were jelly?" I love that kid. and I love that he's fully engrossed in Sonic long enough for me to shower.

So, things are looking up. It's turning into a fun filled afternoon of hilarity ... until Trouble walks in the door. According to Walter, he's the injured party in this whole thing. and I don't even care. Here's the bottom line... There are rules for everything, man. You have to know the rules to play the game and you have to master one level before you move to the next. You can't keep a girlfriend until you know what friendship is, you can't know what friendship is until you can deal with your own disagreements, know when to pick your battles and still have affection for the person when it's all said and done. When you argue over something, you argue over something. you don't start insulting mothers and bringing other people into it. You don't get bragging rights for a cheap shot. You want to kick a man while he's down, that just makes you a pussy. You want bragging rights, wait till he gets up and then take your best shot. What your friends think of your "girlfriend" doesn't matter. Your friends have nothing to do with your relationship and your relationship has nothing to do with your friends. Your "girlfriend" will deal with your friends out of respect for you and your friends will include your "girlfriend" out of respect for you no matter the personal feelings on either side, if they can't do that, then you need to reassess your relationships, not necessarily fight to the death over who says what. and above all else, don't embarrass your mother.

6 comments:

  1. I love your approach to adolescent relationships. I really mean that. Hope you have a better day tomorrow.

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    1. LOL! Thank you! Tomorrow would have to be better, I think ;)

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  2. Hope you have a better day tomorrow!

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  3. You are too much awesomeness, Mac!!!! I love the noisy fun of your family, and I adore the way you share your "Everything went Wrong" day by making us laugh! xoxoxo

    By the way, if Walter's "Girlfriend" does turn out to be a lonely, stinky fat man, let us know!! If he's anywhere near my town (I'm in Texas, but I promise it isn't me!)I'll go kick his butt! Well... I promise to make jokes about it and pretend I did anyway. tee hee!

    And I like the way you tell your kids, "Don't embarrass your mother." That's brilliant! In my house, all the boys say "Don't embarrass your kids" when I walk out the door. I just stick out my tongue, wrap a sweater around my waist to hide the huge hole in my jeans and promise to comb my hair next week...

    I hope that tomorrow everything is lovely and smooth for you!! Hugs!!!!!

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    1. What can I even say to that but... I FREAKING LOVE YOU!!!

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