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Jamie had a rough morning yesterday. And by rough, I mean he threw a fit for 45 minutes. Tired? Probably. Low blood sugar but refusing to eat breakfast? Yes, that. Caught in an ever-deepening cycle of “throw a tantrum over some little thing, reap consequences, throw tantrum over consequences, reap more consequences,” he didn’t fully calm down until I finally got him out of the car at school. It was a beautiful morning and we should have walked to school, but I knew we wouldn’t make it with his mood so sour; there’s not much worse that watching your child freak out on the sidewalk as hundreds of people drive past on their way to school and work.
The low point: as I was trying to calm him down and brush his teeth, he said, sobbing, “Mom, it just feels like you don’t love me today.” And then my heart broke into a million little pieces. Either I am a terrible person or he is a manipulative little shit. No one wins.
Later last night, Charles caught the tantrum bug and nearly sobbed himself to sleep because he “hates homework” and “hates school.” I’m probably idealizing the relief we’ll all feel over Christmas break, but at this point, I would happily trade kids whining about having to go to work with me for kids making themselves sick over going to school.
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Tony and I don’t see each other much these days, but we do trade texts (we have a modern relationship). It’s much more difficult to feign ignorance of the honey-do list if I send it to his phone.
Me: “The good news is that the rats appear to have moved on. The bad news is that at some point, rats got into the shed and into the camping box (which didn’t close all the way due to being overfull), ate three packets of instant oatmeal and a small package of peanut butter, and made a mess. Rat droppings everywhere.”
He didn’t even bother to respond to that one.
Tony, at 9:15 PM when he was away on business: “You up?”
Me: “I haven't even sat down yet. Only Jamie is asleep. Four loads of laundry. I haven’t done the dishes.”
Tony: “Can you call me when you have a moment?”
It’s like he didn’t even read my text.
Me: “I put eggs on my nachos this morning so they count as breakfast.”
Tony: “Sounds legit.”
I got this one when I picked up my phone in the morning; I was sleeping right next to Onyx. She’s the best dog sometimes. Knows right where to drool.
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Look, some of us are still emotionally hungover from the election last month (I heard someone say that they gained the Trump Ten this fall… YES). Some of us are so busy at work (me) and at home (me, too) and with a dog that just won’t quit (also me) that we can’t manage to send out Christmas cards or make Christmas fudge or move the Godforsaken Elf on the Shelf every night (I told them this morning that Cheese the Elf stayed hadn’t moved because he was disappointed in their behavior yesterday; Jamie said our elf was “boring this year.” Sigh). Some of us are so sickened and saddened by world news, especially that of Aleppo, that we wonder, “what is the point?” I’m sorry for the state of the world, my friends, but I’m trying to make it better, one little boy at a time. I will love my neighbors and I will make that fudge, dammit, even if it’s the last thing I do!
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