Thursday, December 6, 2012

Hole In the Wall

Can we pretend that I am the kind of Mom that is together enough to get or make presents for T's teachers? Thanks, I needed that. I feel fictional awesome now.

His last day of school for the semester is tomorrow. Because his preschool is a lab for undergrad and grad students it starts the week after the semester begins and ends the week before exams. A couple of weeks ago I told myself to do something about gifts for the end of the semester. And I earnestly answered myself "Yes! This time things would be different and I will do something!" But there are so many teachers and so many student teachers and I suck. So...nada.

Also, I have no idea what I'm going to do with T next week. He needs school and structure to burn off his endless energy. Even with school he is a destructive tasmanian devil. This morning I was in the kitchen and I heard banging upstairs. I assumed he was in his room. He bangs on shit all the time. His brother was in the living room so I knew that he wasn't banging on C so what kind of trouble could he be in?

Um, he could be using a wooden block to pound a hole in the plaster wall. 

Who does that? How could he think I would not totally freak out when I saw it? And you know what? I walked right by it, didn't even notice. He pointed it out to me. At which point I did, in fact, freak.

It made me feel like a complete failure at this Mom business. If he is a little turd doesn't it stand to reason that I'm raising a little turd? He is my job. And I am sucking. I want him to be a kind and productive member of society. Am I not modeling that behavior? I certainly don't pound holes in the walls of our home. Ok, the house is a fucking wreck. We are filthy slobs. Is that why he thinks it is cool to destroy things? I just don't know. What I do know is I'm every bit as frustrated at myself as I am at him. I'm his primary care giver. If he isn't behaving in a way that I find acceptable it is a reflection on me. 

Ok. I fully realize I am reveling in an extravagant pity party right now. I've got another fucking cold. And I'm a baby when I'm sick. I am a gross, grumpy, resentful pile of pissed off mess who desperately misses being able to call in sick for work. 

How about a small bit of positivity? My last class of the semester was yesterday and it was not a disaster. The practical exam was pretty darn cool. We drew numbers and had to pick a vegetable in order from our CSA basket. Then we were assigned a protein and a starch and we had to make a meal with those components plus a marinade for the protein. The professors tasted the meal and we were graded out of 200 points. I won't bore you with the details, but I got 200. And it felt fucking awesome. Unless I totally screwed up the assignment due last week I think I got an A in the class. And damn it, I'm proud of myself. 

This kid is lucky he's so cute. Otherwise he'd be looking for a new home right about now.

Looks like we are in for more of the same behavior with this nut job.

The most patient cat in the universe gets a hug. 

2 comments:

  1. One time a friend of mine was going to pick up his wife and new son, and he already had two at the time, maybe 5 and 3. As he was putting them into the car, the phone rang (this would be way before cells). He told them not to move and answered the phone. Came back out in less than two minutes and they had discovered paint in the garage, painted themselves and part of the car.

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