I feel exactly like a huge pile of shit, glued together with shit and frosted with powdered shit so I’m going to just post one of my bitchy posts from another forum to detail my Friday. That should catch everyone up on why I have neither posted nor washed my hair since then. I’ve been trying to recover without the use of Grey Goose. 😉
Today has been one of those “three and four word prayer” days. You know what I mean – “holy mother of God” or “sweet baby J.” It’s not blasphemy, it’s just an unspoken plea for assistance.
Last night I dreamed that me, my dad, and my uncle who is a policeman were in a car chasing a semi-truck with contraband in it for some strange reason. The semi ended up hitting our car and I woke up in the worst possible pain. So, at 5 am, dh gets up and tells me that he can’t help me today and hands me a pain pill. 6 am, I finally fall back asleep. 6:30, my alarm goes off and apparently wakes up one of the little monsters that live in my house. 6:45, I finally make it out of bed and yell at the little sh*t to remember other people have to use the bathroom too. (Apparently he was mixing soap and hand sanitizer into a yucky looking goo.) I woke up chickpea and got her school uniform out. My oldest comes out looking like a homeless person and finally at 7:30, they all sit down for breakfast. School starts at 7:45 for my oldest, 8:10 for chickpea, and I have a meeting with the oldest’s teachers at 8.
7:40 – we go to get in the car and it’s iced over. The kids think it’s hilarious. I think I’m about to visit the inside of a jail for the first time in my life. At least they’d let me sleep and it would probably be more quiet than in my house. This is my fantasy while I scrape the ice off of an SUV.
7:45, we leave the house and I somehow have on both clothing and makeup and I decide that LJ (my oldest) can just be late so I took chickpea to school first. The line to her school is wrapped around the building and out into the neighboring streets so we wait and wait and wait and finally as we pull up she says “I forgot my bookbag!” Oh well. (Why do Kindergartners need bookbags anyways?)
8:11 – we get to LJ’s school and I sign him in tardy as he acts like a jerk in the hallway outside the office. I wish I had taken another pill even though it would have made me even dumber than normal while I smear lotion on the little sh*t’s – I mean, my youngest’s – face and wait for the meeting. I notice he still has spaghetti on his face from the night before.
8:15 – meeting time. Everything is good because when LJ tries, he’s a really smart kid. He just seems to think that it’s perfectly logical that a lion could break into your house while you’re at school. He’s exceeded all his goals from last year’s IEP and is not considered “disabled” at this time. Yay! (some history – our kids were adopted from foster care after the meth lab they had been living in exploded. LJ is the oldest but he wasn’t walking, talking, or potty trained when he came into care and spent some time in a group home.) So, he still will get social counseling, independent therapy, and 30 mins a week of communication and logic skill training.
I’m out by 9 (thank you Jesus) and E wants to simultaneously watch a movie, eat at McDonald’s, play in the sandbox, and take a bath. I tell him he either gets to watch Sesame Street or go to his room. He chooses Sesame Street. I finish my now cold cup of coffee and go in search for a pop tart and another pain pill. E follows me and tells me that he wishes that I had a head like a car (what????) and that Elmo can’t spell his own name. I remind him that he can’t spell his own name either which shut him up for about 15 seconds.
This continues until 11 when I realize today is early release so it’s time to go sit in the car in line again. Apparently, my old job was to sit in a computer chair while not in meetings herding cats. Now I sit in a car while not at home herding cats. I tell E to get his shoes on and he comes out of the bedroom wearing shoes but no pants. I very nearly let him get in the car that way but it turns out its a good thing I didn’t. So… he comes out in pants AND shoes finally and we get in the car. Guess what? School doesn’t let out until 12:30 – that’s why I’m the 2nd person in line. By this time my hands are shaking so bad from the lack of food, sleep, and overall sanity that I can’t fill in my crossword puzzles.
12:45, I have another passenger and dh tells me that chickpea doesn’t get out until 1:10 so I drove us to McD’s to pee and get lunch – but LJs already eaten at school so he wants a milkshake. OK. Let’s get one for chickpea too.
1:05 – the line is backed up all the way around the school and out into the street again. I end up at the end of the turning lane right before the ditch starts so I figure sucks to be the person behind me. 1:30, chickpea gets in the car and HAS A MINI PURPLE HANDPRINT ON HER FACE. How did she walk by all those teachers – who know her by name and just said “have a great weekend, chickpea!” and no one realize that the child had been slapped? I parked the car and asked her “what happened?”
“You spanked me in the face for getting a bad report card.”
I said just about every three and four word prayer I could think of while I put my eyeballs back in my head. To clarify – she got smacked on the bottom because her report card said “often disrespects teachers and students verbally and physically.” When I said something to her about it she spat in my face and that’s when she got a spanking. On her bottom. This was DAYS ago.
She’s back there smiling, sucking on her milkshake like the world is a perfect place and absolutely everything is happy.
I got us all out of the car (thanking God that E was wearing pants) and went in to talk to the principal. I just sat chickpea down in front of her and didn’t say a word – after she told the spanking story and that her friend was playing she finally told us that a boy in her class accused her of breaking a computer cord and when she went to get the teacher he grabbed her by the wrist and smacked her.
This is the point LJ holds up his wrist and says “mommy I don’t know how I got this bruise either” (a tiny round spot on his arm that’s doorknob height) and E goes “and the ows on my hand haven’t gotten better yet.” (he scraped his hand while running through the house and skidding across the floor – this morning.) When it gets to this point, normally people shoo us out of where ever we are and look at me like “why don’t you drink more?”
10 minutes after we get home, the doorbell rings and I’m sure it’s the cops coming to check on my poor abused children who can walk by 50 teachers with a purple handprint on their face and no one says a word. It turns out to be a little girl out by herself asking for donations for some charity. She stood her ground against Abbie, my personal coward of a German Shepherd, and said “You can look at this pamphlet of stories if you want – I haven’t read it but I’m sure it’s really sad.” I gave her all the money in my wallet just for honesty. LOL I turn back around and E is standing there wearing nothing but his hockey jersey.
So now it’s 5 pm and dh is home saying he doesn’t feel like cooking dinner and when was the last time I took my medicine? It took me an hour to tell him all the crap that happened today (liberally worded with three and four word prayers) and then he laughs for about 10 minutes, and springs it on me that LJ has been hiding dirty underwear again and what do I want to do for dinner?
Well, honestly, I want to go to the package store and buy a bottle of DiSaranno, lock myself in the bathroom with my laptop and a set of Project Runway DVDs and quietly get drunk while I soak in the tub. Who wants to bet on whether that will happen?
So, yeah, it didn’t happen that way. Friday I ended up sleeping for about 2 hours total and when Target opened up on Saturday I went out for retail therapy hoping to wear my body to the point of exhaustion. It worked! I slept last night!