Crazy Train

Technically speaking, I don’t think you’re supposed to do stream of consciousness writing on a computer. It’s far too restrictive. But a few weeks ago the journal I sometimes write in was cannibalized by one of my kids to write out NFL play-off predictions. And pens, pencils and other writing instruments in my house need to be kept under lock and key because the kids will also make off with those and inevitably chew off the erasers and wear the ink out of the pens with all of their drawings and writings, which I think are incredibly creative and it’s something I love about David and Cameron and the way their minds work, but it’s incredibly frustrating when you want to write out a check for lunch money, or more importantly, to the Girl Scouts, and you can’t find a working pen anywhere.

Anyway, my point was that I’m writing in stream of consciousness style, not minding grammar or run-on sentences too much because right now I’m honestly too addled to come up with anything that resembles structure, or a point. I’ve missed a couple daily posts because I couldn’t think of anything to write that wouldn’t be just maddening and whining. This past week has been a blur. So many things have happened and each of them taken individually is nothing most people can’t handle, but putting them all together compounds the problem and I’m literally one or two more tantrums from my three year-old from landing on the crazy train.

I can’t even probably remember half of the things that have driven me to the point of insanity. If I work backwards, I can recall that tonight I just finished cleaning up a half a box of Cream of Wheat that Justin knocked on the kitchen counter that spilled onto the floor when he was rooting around in the cupboard looking for chocolate syrup to make chocolate milk, which I had actually suggested as a relatively healthy alternative to his normal snack of tortilla chips before checking to see if we had any chocolate in the house, which we didn’t, but in his words, “That’s nonsense,” and he went in search of it. Even though Cream of Wheat is a bitch to clean up, I wasn’t mad at him for spilling it, but I did end up getting mad because he wouldn’t get down from the cabinet so I could begin to clean it and made the mess that much worse.

I also navigated through multiple hissy fits thrown by Alex, who is three, and was at one time (and still is, sometimes) a delightful little boy. He was upset by the pizza I gave him tonight, then he was upset that it was too hot, then he was upset that his dad touched it and got “germs” on it, then it was still too hot, then it had pepperoni, then he wanted a different piece, then David almost ate the last of the kiwifruit, then he didn’t want his “Alex” cup for his milk, he wanted another one, then someone had the audacity to throw away the crust of the pizza after we thought he was done with it, then he wanted me and not Barry to feed him the last spoonful of his applesauce. Then later in the bathtub Justin bit him so I lured Justin out with some temporary tattoos that Cameron scrounged up, but soon he was upset Cameron got two of them and he just got a shark and the other things we thought were tattoos were really just stickers. Meanwhile Alex wanted more water in the tub but when I came over there was a ton of water on the floor so I told him to get out and he sat there and cried for 15 minutes. Then Cameron was raiding the medicine cabinet for Band-Aids, at which point I pulled him away and said, “You don’t need any Band-Aids,” and as I shut the door to the cabinet I ended up bonking him in the head with the door. He didn’t think my comment of, “Well, now maybe you do,” was funny at all and made a big production out of being hurt, though he wasn’t hurt enough to go back to steal more Band-Aids five seconds later, and when I busted him and took them away he called me a dummy and ran downstairs.

Meanwhile poor Penny is in this house probably thinking, “Where’s the nearest puppy mill, because I think I might be more comfortable there.” That’s not even half of what went down today and doesn’t cover the fact that I locked myself in Justin and Alex’s room last week because I honestly thought I might need to be restrained if I was near any of my kids. This after Cameron clogged the bathroom sink and refused to say how, David got himself kicked off the schoolbus for a week, after we repeatedly lectured, punished, pleaded, grounded, and tried a zillion other things to get him to shake his lousy attitude. Now I’m stuck driving his ass to and from school until Friday. My grandma was in the hospital. My uncle died and there was drama surrounding that. I still don’t have a job and haven’t even really been that concerned about finding one, even though I definitely need to, I just don’t think I can deal with the ridiculousness of getting everyone out the door and doing the daily grind again right now. I was beyond burned out by the time I left the Evil Empire and didn’t even realize it.

Cameron is killing me. He won’t listen to a thing I say, does the most asinine things during the course of a given day, he’s driving his teachers insane, yet they don’t seem overly receptive to the fact that I think he’s quite bored during class and needs to have something more substantive to occupy his fertile mind. Barry is still dealing with the aftermath of this varicella virus he contracted a few weeks ago. He hurts and tells me about it with great frequency. I sent him specific instructions for what pain medications he should ask his doctor for because I knew what worked for him after orthopedic surgery and somehow it’s my fault that he didn’t read my e-mail thoroughly and ended up with the wrong stuff.

It’s winter and it’s hell and people in Arizona and Florida probably don’t have to deal with this shit because they can actually toss their kids outside without fear of hypothermia or getting buried in a snow bank. I mean no disrespect at all by this, but I’m actually reading a book about the Treblinka concentration camp as escapist literature.

I went out with friends on Saturday night, really looking to have a good time, but by the end of the day I was so exhausted from again dealing with moods and attitudes and tempers that I just couldn’t even relax and bailed out fairly early while everyone else stayed and had a great time. I think I need to go out and score my own personal stash of Thin Mints because I watched as the Barry and the hooligans took out an entire sleeve of them in about a three minute feeding frenzy. David had strep throat and was nice and mellow for a day while he did nothing but sleep. Cameron had it too but we caught it too early and his antibiotics kicked in before I was able to enjoy a day with him having a fever and fatigue. Of course after day two of being on meds I had to monitor him putting them down his mouth and swallowing them like you would a psych patient because Barry found two of his pills downstairs on the floor after he made the executive decision that he was not going to take them because they tasted bad.

There’s more, but I think I can’t write anything else.

© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2011



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