So here we sit on a Friday night watching DVR'd Clone Wars episodes. Monkey has done nothing but whine since I picked him up from school. He earned a time out in the car for throwing his buddy's backpack around, whining some and raising his voice. Honest, it doesn't happen that often, but when it does I just want someone to put me out of my misery. He had to sit for 6 minutes on the stairs when we got home and think about it. Right. He's thinking about what he's onto next. No remorse. Ants in his pants.
Everyday he expects me to get him a drink, a snack, set up a game or video or whatever craft he's got it in his head to make that day. I'm like Goddamn Mr. French around here. I know! I know! I only have myself to blame. He used to not be able to do these things for himself and I got in the habit. When he finally could I failed to immediately make the appropriate adjustments, and now I am paying paying paying. Shut your mouth, Dr. Phil. I know. Being so exhausted all the time makes it really hard to demand results from him when I know I'm not showing him my own results. That's a big can of worms, and I'll open it later.
I have been telling him for weeks to pick up his toys. I was not kidding when I complained we were just stepping over things. They were spread out everywhere. Stairs. Landing. Doorways. I almost busted my ass in the bathroom slipping on a Lego person. I said he was gonna wake up one day and they would be gone. He laughed. He also said, "I don't clean." GAME ON. So while he was at school the other day I placed everything that was on the floor anywhere in the house in trash bags. I placed the trash bags in the garage. I picked him up from school and waited for the approaching shit storm. Man, I was scared. I am not a heart breaker. I don't have the guts. I also love him very much, and must learn to be a soul crusher when need be. He's got to learn, and I have to love him enough to teach him. Even if it breaks my own heart in the process. Someday he's gonna tower over me. I need to make sure he's straight by then.
We came in and he was like, Wow, you cleaned up. Wait a minute...(finger to lip, scrunched up brow) where is everything? "Mom! Where is everything???" GONE. I warned ya, mister. Then he was silent for a bit. There was no tantrum. I felt the eye of the hurricane passing over me. I said, "You can have one bag of toys back for everyday you keep everything picked up." Then he said, "Look at all the room I have to play. Okay, sounds fair." MY SIX YEAR OLD JUST SAID SOUNDS FAIR. MUST BE DAIN BRAMAGE. "Hey. Wait a minute. Where are the Lego people?" That's when I started to hear the wind howling and everything went dark. GONE, I said. AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!! I NEEEEEED THEMMMMM!!!!! That's more like it. (Check mate.)
So all night that night he fluctuated between complete anger at the entire world (WHO SAYS PLUTO IS NOT A PLANET! WHAT ARE THEY THINKING!) and being completely nonchalant as if nothing had transpired to rock his little world to the very foundation. Thank goodness for ADD. I did it! Toys still in garage. He has picked up everyday. And I am now saying NO regularly.
This week has been brutal. Neenie had a hard time at work, I've been feverish constantly and so tired I feel as though I have been drugged. There was actually A COPPERHEAD in my mom's office this week. Needless to say, the stress is palpable around here. No one is looking anyone else in the eyes cause we are all just trying to keep moving. KEEP SWIMMING! KEEP SWIMMING! I am quite ashamed to say though that when my mom comes home and I ask her how her day was (and if she has the power to answer me) and then she asks me how my day was I am basically answering the question "Did you get along with yourself today?" Most days my answer is embarrassing. "It was hard today."
Do you know what it is to be bereft of feelings? To have so many feelings that they are all slugging it out for your attention internally until they crescendo into a screaming hysterical anxiety in your brain that no one can hear but you? Then, you are empty because it is the only way to continue until the next wave hits. To feel like you are hanging by a thread even though you ARE vertical and you ARE mobile and you ARE supposedly sane? It's like being hit by lightning. So much electrical charge that it lifts you up, sets you on fire then just shorts everything out including your heart and brain. That's how I feel today. As Elizabeth Wurtzel puts it "More, Now, Again".
Here I am, floating inside my body as if it is a sensory deprivation chamber filled with nothing but dark, silence and salt water. I am alone in here. I am Prometheus having my liver eaten out day after day. I am Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the damn mountain again and again.
I do not like to write when I feel blue. I don't want to come undone in front of you. It feels shameful. I don't like you to see my crazy. It's not that I'm depressed right now though. It's not the blues. I think it feels more like shades of gray. It could be that it rained for weeks and then it was one million degrees out all of a sudden. The solstice? The time? Bad feng shui? My hormones? Lyme reeking havoc with my CNS again? Maybe it's just the haze of the constant fever for weeks on end.
I just pulled up Deepak on Twitter and he posted "Love it the way it is and flow." So here I go. I get the message God. Tomorrow though, could I have a little more funny and a little less introspection? Thanks.
"It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp."