The Way Things Are






Iíve been doing a little back-reading
2005-11-22, 9:56 a.m.

Iíve been doing a little back-reading here, mostly because somebody left a comment yesterday on a past journal entry, and I canít figure out what they were referring to, but be that as it may, I have to say that my great wallowing-in-misery revelatory epiphany of a few weeks or months ago seems to have stuck. Have you noticed that Iím happier? Have a bit of a spring in my step? Have started ironing my clothes? Bitch a little less often? No? Well, itís true. Itís all true. I snapped fucking out of it.

But do allow me to say this: November sucks, as far as the visitation schedule for Mr. Surly. He has Lil Guy for Thanksgiving this year, and I wonít go into the boring minutia on how that parses out, but suffice it to say, I am not seeing my kid enough this month, and when I dropped him off at school this morning, said this: ďBe good, have fun, I love you, and Iíll see you Sunday at noon.Ē

Yíall, itís not natural for me to be without my kid from Tuesday until Sunday at noon. Iím not liking it at all. Iím going to need to do lots of stuff between now and then to keep from dwelling on it. Lots of busy productive stuff, or drinking. OR BOTH.

The light at the end of the tunnel? I have him for Christmas, and as much as I donít have him in November, I will have him in December. So it will be good, and there will be much rejoicing. Yay.

You know what goes together like peas and carrots? The fact that I did NOT work out this morning (I got dressed for it, and then sat in front of the TV watching the early morning news) AND that I stopped at Whataburger for a #10 this morning before work. Thatís 900 calories, in case youíre counting. Iím not, but do you know how much beer I could have had for that 900 calories. That would have been a good head start on that long weekend of Drinking To Numb the Pain that I had planned.

Oh, I kid! Even though I expect the Red Curse of Whatever Weíre Calling It These Days (I refuse to say Aunt Flo, because I know a woman named Flo, short for Florence, and sheís totally nice, and I like her, and sheís part of our social circle, and I just canít reconcile my friend Flo with having my period, which never really bothers me physically all that much, anyway Ė just emotionally) (but I digress) to occur on Thanksgiving Day, something miraculous has happened. (1) Ovulation didnít hurt like a sonofabitch, more like a small hobbity bastard, and (2) I havenít sunk into the mad, twisty, black world of My Brain On Hormones. Itís like I switched it on, or switched it off. Something switched over the other way, and I feel just as normal as I ever do (snort!) Itís a Thanksgiving miracle!


However, I have an overwhelming urge to drive the 1 mile to Lil Guyís school, pull him out of class, and give him a hug, right there in the lobby. Do you think that would embarrass him? Ostracized much, Lil Guy? Mom a little too attached?

See, I yelled at him a little bit this morning. I might as well go ahead and spill it here, because if not here, where? Thereís only one internet folks, and this is it. Weíve started leaving Mrs. Beans outside during the day because she has started going a little crazy and finding something to destroy each day. As we were loading our stuff into the car this morning, running a little late, LG jumped out of the car, ran into the garage, Beans close on his heels, and came back without her.

Me: What did you do?

LG: Ms. Beans was out. I let her back in!

Me: She stays outside now! Sheís starting to destroy the house! Well, shit! We have to leave! I donít have time to lure her back outside! Why do you think I was feeding her Fritos this morning? I canít believe you let her back in!


Well, we made up shortly afterward, and I told him that Iíd let DW know that his nemesis, Mrs. Beans, was in the house, scoping out her next victim. A rug, a pillow, something left on the kitchen counterÖ

But I feel back that I lost my temper, once again, with my kid this morning. He even took a shower with soap AND shampoo, and made a small mistake Ė let the dog back in Ė thinking he was doing a good thing, and I lost it. We chit-chatted, we laughed, I told him I love him, etc. But I still feel bad, and I want to go throw myself on the floor of the school lobby, weeping and rending my garment and apologizing.

If this is as crazy as Iím going to be, at least Iím focusing on something normal and healthy: missing my kid for the next 5 days and feeling sorry about losing my temper, and not on something unhealthy: blaming my husband for every freaking this that displeases me, and blowing it all up out of proportion until Iím ranting and raving constantly about every single thing. In fact, this morning, as we left the house, I said the following (right before the Mrs. Beans debacle):

Me: Do you think we could do something tonight?

DW: Sure! Whaddaya wanna do?

Me: (making international hand signal for ďDoing ItĒ)


Isnít it funny, the things you donít realize about your parents, ever. I cannot imagine that my mother ever made the international hand signal for Doing It with my father. Or stepfather. And Iím sure that all the times I was unfairly accused or bitched at when I thought I was doing the right thing, that nobody ever apologized to me. And to my knowledge, they never felt bad about it. But maybe they did.

Would it have helped me to know that they felt bad? Would I have shrugged off the stinking gargoyle of resentment that perched on my shoulders if I had received an apology? Maybe so. Did anyone feel guilty about it like I do now, with a little perspective? No idea. But what sucks is I have a distinct memory for how my kid must have felt this morning, and I feel really bad that that feeling is courtesy of his mother.

Let this be a lesson to you. Do not dwell on the piddly shit with your kids or other loved ones, for tomorrow may be Thanksgiving Eve, and youíll have to wait til Sunday at noon to make up for it. Always apologize promptly.

5 comments so far

last - next