In the past two days, I’ve inadvertently instructed my son on what a spit take is, and what breaking character means. This is not helping my quest to insist he become a dentist and somehow support his mother in her old age.
He’s been trying to be exceptionally whiny of late in an attempt to get his way, but he doesn’t have the follow through to hold the character when I scrutinize him carefully for cracks in the armor, and he breaks and starts laughing when I call him on how fake his whining is. Then he gets mad because I called him out on it being fake, which is when I make him try to do it more convincingly. Then, I catch what I’m doing and I’m like STOP IT, WHY ARE YOU TEACHING HIM THIS SHIT. But this is what I know, and what I have to teach, so it comes out.
I think I’ve had a cold of one sort or another off an on for a month and a half now. This one may actually be a sinus infection, though I seem to have beaten down the cough that was threatening to turn into bronchitis. I was better there for like a week, and then shit happens (and boy does it happen) and I got run down again and got sick again. And then I go to a party where people so sweetly insist that I sing, when I am not in a good voice to do so, but who love it so much and ask so nicely that I can’t resist. And then a guy with a guitar shows up and I sing a lot more than I ever intended and stay a lot later than planned. Which makes my voice even worse, and makes it take a longer time to get better.
Today I had a migraine so bad when I went to pick up my son, and he started whining as soon as we got home, about what I had fixed for dinner and I was just like I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR IT, D, THIS IS NOT POISON, IT’S GOOD FOOD AND YOU WILL EAT IT AND THEN YOU WILL HAVE A BATH AND THEN WE WILL DO ALL THE HOMEWORK AND YOU WILL SHUT IT OR I WILL THROW YOU DOWN THE HILL BEHIND THE APARTMENT. Ok I didn’t say that EXACTLY but it was pretty close. This after I raced to the fucking post office to get a certified letter before the PO closed, which I just KNEW was my lease renewal notice, which I also KNEW would include a massively inflated rent cost, and it was even more than I thought it would be. I stood there in line waiting for my shit letter wondering why in the Jesus Christ fuck people STAND IN LINE at the PO to buy a motherfucking BOOK OF STAMPS that you can buy at any grocery, including the one not a five minute walk from the fucking post office. SERIOUSLY, GET OUT OF LINE AND BUY STAMPS SOMEWHERE ELSE, I’M DYING FOR THE BAD NEWS. Then I was talking to myself in the parking lot as I ripped the letter open: “Well, I don’t know how I’m going to do that. I’m going to have to sell something. My body maybe. HAHAHAHAHA.”
So then the cooking and all the dishes and the cleanup and the bath and I had to clean the toilet as it was just getting gross, and the homework, not ALL of the homework but 3/4 of it, and then he was all whiny (and selling it) about having something else to eat, so I let him have a yogurt before bed. Then the painstaking reading of some book about a plane. He really wants to sound the words out and try to figure them out and I really, really want to let him but mommy’s head is pounding and sometimes I just don’t have the patience. But we got through it.
I made myself lift for a half hour, thinking this might help the head (endorphins) and make me warm up a little as it’s freezing in here. And I’m trying really hard to at least maintain this lower weight, if not lose some more weight. I still can’t run. Not with this head cold, and my foot is still not healed up and if I run now, it’s right back to limping, so I’m trying to be patient and let it heal all the way. I don’t have any plastic over the patio doors and it’s about as insulated as sitting next to a screen door in the winter, but it’s just one of those things that I never did before and now have to do myself, and don’t want to figure out how to do so it just doesn’t get done. Like the many boxes sitting around from the storage locker that had all the Christmas decorations in them, which I somehow haven’t gotten back upstairs. Or D’s broken dresser, or what to do about all the nail holes in the walls or how terrible the door looks. I just kind of look at those things and think, yeah, I have to do something about that. And then it’s time for the next thing, and so there’s no time.
I know I’m lucky to have the problems I have. And the last several days have reminded me how much fun life can be and how much I can mean to people, and I really needed that. Things could be worse.