Home » I Seemed to Have Misplaced My “Give A Damn”

I Seemed to Have Misplaced My “Give A Damn”

Because I suggested he dip his apple slices in peanut butter. . .

Because I suggested he dip his apple slices in peanut butter. . .

So the kid stuck it to me good yesterday.

He was up early in the morning.  We hit the Park and we walked a lot.  So by the time we got home, he was pretty tired and testy.  While I was getting him some lunch, he asked for “cray” and “pay-per.”

I am always happy to oblige when he asks for something that allows him to be creative.  (Although for this reason, I haven’t yet shown him the wonder of finger paint.)  Anyway, I LOVE crayons.  LOVE them.  And the washable kind aren’t up to my specs.  So I got me err him several gigantic boxes of traditional Crayolas a while ago.  I ration them out because, there’s no point in ruining nearly 300 crayons at once.  AND since they aren’t washable, I like to know where they are at all times.

I took a handful of crayons and some paper and placed it on his little table.  But before I knew it, he was testing out his creative boundaries on the sofa.  Now, this is exactly why it’s slip covered so I didn’t get all freaky on him.  Instead, I redirected him explaining we only use crayons on paper.   Over and over and over.

This is obviously his "blue phase"

This is obviously his “blue phase”

Now I understand that he was likely seeking my attention.  He probably wanted me to draw with him.  And believe me, I would have far rather been playing with crayons than preparing him a bunch of food he was going to make look like garbage in two seconds. . .And this is yet another reason why being an adult can suck it.

Still, I can’t have him thinking every surface in the house is an opportunity to leave his creative mark.  So I warned him I would take away the crayons.  Twice.  Third time game over.  That bitch Mommy made good on her promise and took away the crayons.  Aw lawd Jesus the meltdown. . .

I got him settled with a book.  And as we were reading he asked to go to bed.  Go to bed?  This early?

Who am I to question his motives?  To nap we went.

He slept well.  For almost 2.5 hours. . .just slightly longer than a typical nap.  He awoke in a decent mood and we did our usual afternoon and evening stuff with just a few disagreements.

The problem was we were running late. . .Very late. . . because it was a running night for Chris and I made a dinner that required a little more attention, and it was bath night. . .

Anyway, by the time the toothbrush made its appearance, Mac was really tired and ready for a power struggle.   He didn’t disappoint.  I decided I had to pick my battles so I let him rub the toothbrush on every surface in the house BUT his teeth.  Of course, he refused to relinquish it.

“Sleep with the toothbrush, kid.  Mommy doesn’t care,” I mumbled at him under my breath in a tone that smacked of sarcasm and slight hostility.

The clock read 9:37.  I was getting anxious.  I had sent Chris to bed 15 minutes earlier with a gigantic bowl of ice cream for me and I just KNEW those bastard cats were licking it as it sat on the nightstand melting.

Come on kid.

“Let’s read books and get our wubbies,” I suggested plopping myself on the sofa with a stack of books.

Mac feigned interest for a few minutes but then was off like a shot again.  He was running the length of the house shouting out random numbers, “Sixteen, Twelve, Sev! Sev!”

I knew what was happening and I didn’t care for it.  He had engaged the “I’m exhausted but there’s no way in hell I’m sleeping so you can jam it evil wench” sequence.

I started to feel really cranky.  I had such high hopes I could start painting one of those canvases for the living room this evening.  Or at the very least I hoped to be eating ice cream in bed by 9:45.  Hurry kid!

I decided I had to make a move.  This had already snowballed out of hand.  I cornered him and he agreed to take the wubbies.  I rushed him off to his room.

But no sooner had I plopped into my bed and eaten two bites of my ice cream, than I was forced to acknowledge that he was upset and NOT going to sleep.

JUST FYI:  Evenings are a LOT easier when alcohol is an option.  Please remind me of that if I ever start talking stupid about getting knocked up again.

Ice cream?  I SCREAM?!  Oh well, at least the cantankerous little prince saved me some calories.

Ice cream? I SCREAM?! Oh well, at least the cantankerous little prince saved me some calories.

I took him back downstairs so we could try again.  This time I offered him a snack too.  He wasn’t that hungry but he was willing to nibble as a stalling tactic.

At 10:15, I could barely keep my eyes open and I was even starting to mentally hate on poor Chris, who was asleep.  I took Mac back to his room, resigned to the fact that I was logging a night on his floor.  We got “comfortable” and I tried snuggling him close.

But he wasn’t with the program.  He was bouncing all over the room.  I tried to ignore him.  It was less than effective.

At 10:45 he jumped on my head.  “Slow your roll, kid!  It’s time to SLEEP!  Please, let’s sleep, Mac.”

By 11:20 I had dozed off, but I’m pretty sure I felt him clock me at least 3 more times in the head after that.

At 2:30 AM I realized there was no way I was sneaking out to use the bathroom or get in our bed.

Pray for morning FAST.

At 6:30, I was quite keen to sneak out of the room but realized he was using my left foot as a pillow.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I wiggled my foot free.  I attempted to get off the floor without making every joint pop audibly.  I quickly realized that was futile so I crawled on my hands and knees to the door.

Gently. . .Carefully now. . .turning the knob. . .Door open. . .BANG!

Damn!  I had thrown the desk chair out of the room last night because he wouldn’t stop pushing it around the room.  It was now directly outside of the door, nearly AGAINST the door, making it impossible to make a noise-free getaway.

Still on my knees, I lifted the chair by the legs off the floor.  PAIN!  PAIN!  Pain in my right side and shoulders from stretching to levitate the chair out of my way.

Still seeing stars, I decided to go for it.  I quickly stood up, my knees cracking in protest, wedged myself through the small opening and shut the door as quickly and quietly as I could.

I tiptoed to the bathroom praying today would be a better day. . .

And as I sat there peeing (as quietly as I could) for what felt like an eternity, I pondered my previous 24 hours with kid. . .What makes some days SO FREAKING TRYING?  How does that happen?  Where exactly did the wheels come off the cart?

I started with my list of consistent irritations. . .It annoys me that Chris can’t quickly get this kid to bed.  So every night, every nap I’m on call.  It annoys me that it takes Chris FOREVER in the bathroom in the evenings all the while I’m struggling downstairs with an exhausted kid.  It annoys me that we can’t EVER seem to get done with walk, dinner, play, bath before 9:30 at night.  It annoys me that every evening I feel like I’m fighting a whole host of variables that are out of my control just so I have 15 minutes of peace for myself before I completely crash.  It annoys me that I wanted to paint but NEVER had a second to do it.  It annoys me when Mac has a grumpy day because it makes me feel incompetent as a parent.

And as I tiptoed downstairs to get some coffee, I forced myself to acknowledge the only thing I can control about any of my consistent irritations is ME.

It’s kinda’ nice that Mac trusts me to put him to bed.  My role is important and that makes me feel good.  Bedtime is a special time that we share and I’m lucky to have that.

I’ll bet it annoys the hell out of Chris that I get to enjoy Mac’s constant company while he trudges off to work every morning at 5:30.  I’ll bet it annoys Chris that he has to spend time actually looking presentable. . .Maybe he’d rather be a dirty slob like me but can’t because he’s stuck providing for us.

All those variables that are out of my control every evening?  If I’m honest, they’re really blessings aren’t they?  That we have a beautiful, safe Park so close to our house, we are often guilty of lingering there too long.  That we have dinner as a family every night – with plenty of healthy food on the table.  That we have clean water for baths that we can access on demand with a simple turn of a faucet.

Sure, not being able to paint or eat ice cream and sleeping on the floor all kinda’ suck.  But I woke up this morning, didn’t I?  And it’s a new day. . .and day where any of those things are still possible. . .

Ah. . .there it is!!  My give a damn.  Thank goodness I found it!  And I swear, I’m going to work really hard to make sure I don’t misplace it again. . .

It’s very, very valuable. . .





2 Responses to “I Seemed to Have Misplaced My “Give A Damn””

  1. Dani Ryan says:

    Aw, I loved this! Like you, I have my moments where I’m annoyed, but then my daughter will throw her arms around her neck, or my husband will call to tell me he loves me, and I’ll realize that the crap I get annoyed with is so ridiculous.

    The good news? I’m not knocked up, so I can still drink.


    I hope you aren’t sleeping on the floor again tonight. But if you are, you can take comfort in the fact that my daughter has a fever and puked all over me before bed, my husband has a man cold and almost sympathy puked on me before I put him in a time out so I could deal with the mess, and I’ve been awake since 4:54 this morning!!!

    Dani Ryan recently posted…Living in the shadow of my mother-in-lawMy Profile

    • admin says:

      How’s everyone feeling today? I hope you all got some rest over the weekend and everyone is greatly improved.