Wednesday, May 5, 2010

shut up shut up SHUT UP

Did I meditate today? Oh, I meditated. I meditated on the following.
1. My kid's crapping the bed gradewise in English. ENGLISH. What the fuck. This grade shit is an ongoing battle with my kid, who by the way has been tested as pretty bright. The child is not stupid by any stretch. If only he was, we wouldn't give a good goddamn that he doesn't seem to care about school or trying hard.
2. The neighbor two doors down is always doing something noisy. Mowing. Weed whacking. Polishing something with something loud. loud loud LOUD LOUD FUCKING LOUD. Who cuts bricks every Saturday for five mother fucking years?! WHO?
3. I'm PMSing hard. Sorry for the TMI. But it seems to be getting worse the older I get. And that sucks. I hate getting old.
4. The plastic-covering job I did on my veg beds looks like it was done by a one-armed blind moron, and I didn't get enough of it anyway. I am certain death is imminent for all of my seedlings come this weekend's cold weather.
5. Nothing is ever cleaned or put away in this house unless I do it or specifically ask someone to do it. NOTHING. And if it is cleaned or put away it doesn't stay that way for longer than fifteen minutes.
6. Back to #1. I can't help but feel this is my fault. I never asked/demanded much from the kid, but until he hit the teenage years he delivered on my minimal requirements: don't be an asshole, get good grades. They don't have to be perfect, just good. And then around 12 it kind of fell apart and now that he's 16, we have to bring the hammer down and start taking things away -- XBOX, Facebook, social time. I hate this so much, but I'm so tired of this same goddamned argument I could scream. And, AND, now that we're putting fairly serious restrictions on him, since Peter works much later than I do typically, it's pretty much on me to see that AJ's doing what he needs to do. I realize it's not Peter's fault, and I'm pretty certain that he doesn't want to come home and work more any more than I want to come home and work more (although I already do, what with dinner and laundry and cleaning and shit.) And I hate being the heavy. So I need to suck it up. Really, I was born to be a non-custodial parent. I would be the best fun weekend dad, y'all don't even know.

All this is to say that I tried to quiet my head. Really, I did. I was outside because the house smells funny to me right now and that is making me angry. The other neighbors are having a loud, ignorant, obscene (even to me) conversation in their garage, where they hang out pretty much every night in temperate weather. I would rather that they were dealing, as we previously suspected. So, by the end of today's attempt I was actually angrier than when I started.

If it weren't a Wednesday, I'd just say fuck this, I'm getting krunk. Now THAT's meditation.


  1. Being the heavy sucks--it's one of the hardest parts of being a (mostly) responsible mother. I'm not looking forward to when Zack hits that age.

    I am really feeling you on #5. I ran an experiment this week: a hairbrush fell onto the bathroom floor sometime on Sunday, and I decided to just leave it there to see if anyone would pick it up. Bryan even took off his shoes in the bathroom yesterday and pushed the brush over so he had a spot to put them. I picked up the brush off the floor today--couldn't stand it anymore.

  2. I came home yesterday and not a dish had been put in the dishwasher. Mind you, the dishwasher was OPEN, with the bottom basket pulled out, the top tray half out, and plenty of room for more dirty dishes to be added. It would have taken the absolute minimum effort to put the lunch & snack dishes into the dishwasher.

    So I killed everyone.

    Or maybe I just thought about it.

    In many ways I am the slob of the family but this kind of thing--where such a tiny effort could make a big difference--makes me despair.