| Some Days Just... | | Date Created: Mar 01, 2007, 01:13 PM |
suck. That would be today. I am tired, hungry, and cranky. But there is so much to do around the house, every room is so messy including the table where we eat I can't even find a place to sit and eat that won't remind me of what a craphole this place is right now, and I finally got the boys down for their naps and I hear footsteps. It never quits on days like this. The worst part of the last couple of days has been James' disgusting, stinky, ever-present poops. It's not his fault. He has a constipation problem that is chronic that I really don't think the doctor "gets". The response is to take a very mild laxative powder in his milk every morning which he does. So he isn't stopped up, he is spitting out small amounts of poop almost constantly. A little while ago I was pulling his pants down so he could try to go on the potty only for my finger to go right into a fresh "schmear" as Will and I so fondly call these half-hourly or so deposits. I literally yelped in disgust. James yelled, "Don't be mad at me, Momoe," and I am saying with clenched teeth over and over, "I'm not mad at you. I'm not mad at you. It's just disgusting!" It is so hard not to get mad. I will go to hell because I can't keep myself calm most times. I can't explain why it's grosser to wipe his rear end 6,000 times over the potty than change a diaper, but it is. It is a feeling of overwhelming revulsion. John's make me mad, too, but his are less frequent, less stinky, and are easy to dump in the potty. The issue with John is he doesn't WANT to poop in the potty. The positive side to this is he poops a lot less often than usual. And now he and James only want to stand when they do their regular potty stops, so there is no way they can accidentally poop while they are there. I think what I am going to do is NOT let them stand to TT until they start pooping in the potty. It's sitsville for those suckers until I manage to get out of shitsville--Land of hands that never smell clean no matter how many times you wash them and toilets that clog on the hour with supposedly flushable wipes. I think I've made James out to be the bad guy here, but John is doing his part to contribute to this emergency blog session as well. He was the last to go down for nap. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I get him on the bed and he says he wants his shoes he just took off to go into the bin downstairs. I'm like, "John, we can put them there after nap." He whines and jumps on the bed. "No! No! Shoes in the bin! Shoes in the bin!" So I say okay, okay and promise to take his shoes downstairs and put them into the proper bin. Let's try this again. He lies down and says, "I need Lightnin McQueen" (his currently favorite matchbox car). I breathe heavy because I know from hard experience he will not stay on his bed and stay away from his door doing things like hanging on the doorknob and throwing books at the door until he has his special things on his pillow. [I just heard a crash from upstairs. I'm ignoring it. Now John is crying and calling my name. I will be right back. It was George. He said he threw a book off his bed because he didn't want to read that book.] So I went downstairs to the TV room where John said the car was. Only problem is the boys completely trashed that room earlier this morning while I was getting dressed. So there are pillows, balls, cars, plastic animals, bats, tennis racquets, cushions, books everywhere. I call upstairs and tell John to come down and get it himself--I can't find it.
He yells from upstairs, "You can't find it?"
"That's right I can't find it! Come get it!"
"Come get it?"
In my mind I'm thinking, "Yes, come and f$%^ing get it!!!!!!!" But of course I don't say that, lest you call Dr. Phil on me.
"Yes, " I manage. "Come down and get it please!"
Finally he comes downstairs and finds the car in no time having remembered the exact space in all the crap where he left it. I tuck him back in again, make sure he has the right string on his blanket because he always yells at me if I put the blanket on him in the direction where the wrong string might be close to his face instead of the right string. I think another thing I am going to do is cut all the STRINGS off of that blanket except for his main string so it will be easier to spot during these difficult times.
Overall, another issue that comes up pretty often even if the boys are being decently well behaved is not listening. Never in my life will I accuse Will of being a bad listener. Apparently they are just born with it. When I am trying to put their shoes on, tell them to come to the door, brush their teeth, come upstairs, come downstairs, hold my hand in the parking lot, stay close to me, use an inside voice, I don't think a 2 x 4 to the head would make them look at me or do what I say. Lately when I am saying something important such as, "There are lots of cars in this parking lot. You must stay close to me and hold hands," I make them look me in the face. This is when they look away, smile, or completely ignore me as always. UGH!!!!! I'm so tired of giving cheerful instructions that go unheeded. "Okay, George, come brush your teeth so we can get rid of those cavity bugs!" I am so sick of giving uncheerful instructions that go unheeded. "Sit your fanny down right now or you are going back to the car!" Some days they are better at this stuff. But most days they are meat heads!!!!!!!!!
I am still tired, hungry, and cranky, but at least, well, at least, hmmmmm, at least if there is anyone else out there in this readership feeling the same way, we can know we're in this together... |
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