Ahh Mondays. Could there be a more hated day in the week?
I started off my Monday but not being able to sleep until shortly after 1:00AM. I say ‘not being able to sleep’ and mean that my brain decided that despite my body feeling like it wanted to do nothing more than slip away from the world, it wanted to run 500 miles a minute. Yeesh. Then again I also spent the time before bed on my own listening to music and working on a header for the blog here that I still have more coloring work to do.
I had decided, in my inability to sleep, to merely reschedule my oldest’s orthodontist complementary evaluation to a day where I wasn’t going to have to figure out care for the youngest three or drag them to an hour long appointment with us. What was I thinking when I decided that oh sure, I could totally make it to someplace at 8:30AM on a Monday?!
Of course, she woke up early despite my sneaking downstairs to change their alarm to get another hour of sleep. There is one blessed thing about Mondays at the school my kids go to: they start at 10:00AM!
The rest of the week? 8:30AM. This doesn’t sound like a huge deal but, holy heck no matter what I’ve tried over the years I am still not much of a morning person. You take into account that I have to get the kids ready to go, and battle my sons ADHD and ODD inspired morning tantrums and… well, mornings wear me out more than waking up from however few hours of sleep I’ve managed to get under my belt. Usually, I am lucky to get 2-4 hours, unless it’s a weekend and then thankfully the kids will allow me to wake up whenever my body is ready regardless of when I actually managed to pass out for the day.
After getting the oldest three to school, I had errands that I had been holding off at the sake of the youngest. Since she’s in afternoon Kindergarten the plan was to go get pens (these kids go through pens, pencils and paper so quickly. They draw a lot, particularly the youngest!!), and get her an ice cream cone at McDonald’s since I had a little free ice cream card in my wallet that I’ve embarrassingly had since April. I’m surprised I can find it despite my usual chaotic cluttermess. ((Yes, that is one word on purpose, because I said so!))
We had an incident attempting to get the pens on Thursday after I picked up my books for school, and some supplies from the school book store that I needed. Granted, I need to go back because I forgot some. Anyway, I decided to just get a box of 60 pens. That shouldn’t be a problem right? We can share the giant box of pens, each kid can have 10 pens alllllll to themselves, the other 20 will sit in my office in case I need some or someone needs one eventually down the line. Yeah, no, that wasn’t happening this day as my 5 1/2 year old declared that she ‘doesn’t like to share!’ and made a downright show in the middle of Staples. I walked out holding one of her hands, only to just get to the doors and she’s holding the box ‘I’ll SHARE!! Give me another chance!! GIVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE!!’
This was of course after ten minutes of explaining to her what I mean about sharing the box. It meant she got pens, all for herself, that she could put in her purse and everyone else could too. She herself didn’t have any need for 60 pens after all! I was calm and nice and the store associate who was there stocking things had even started the whole deal on how it hurt her heart that she didn’t want to share, and how ten pens was great and, oh man.
Returning the pens, we had to exit, I felt like crawling into a hole and dying as people stared on our way out. Her screaming, red face far redder than her hair, as I put her into the van and had to listen to her screams and begging the rest of the way home. Yeesh!
The plan originally was to return Saturday, when none of her siblings were home for the weekend and she’d had a day to calm down and have a talk about the problem and talk about how a box of 60 black ink pens was enough to share between five people. Sans tantrum!
Saturday went, well, typical for a Saturday with just the two of us. Which is basically lots of drawing, playing tic-tac-toe and watching anime on Netflix together. Eventually we went out to do errands, but far later than I’d anticipated. I had also made the decision just minutes before leaving on errands (which included my ex, her father) that my hair was in gods awful condition and I needed a haircut. Pronto. I had taken a shower and realized while brushing that my hair was stretching, and then snapping like weak rubber. I went from having blue hair, to nearly white, to back to blue, and I suppose because I was regularly using tons of conditioner I wasn’t 100% aware how bad the length of it really was.
40 minutes after arriving to the only hair cutting place open after 5:00PM on a Sunday that I was aware of and I’ve gone from mid-back length hair to a layered bob that my ex described as “very 80’s… but that sort of thing is in right now” to “you look like someone from the 70’s” with the added in declaration of “It just… looks different, it’s different, it’s a change, you aren’t allowed to change from when I met you! Stop changing!” Uhhhh, we’ve known each other 7 years, we’ve BOTH changed in those 7 years. Then again he’s had the same haircut for 7 years, while I have changed my hair color many times over, as well as it’s length though never really THIS short.
From there, more errands, and we simply never made it to get pens nor do McDonald’s. Sunday was similar, with more errands and a trip over to the home of my oldest three’s father. Holy awkward sentence structure there… Had to pick up the kids from their weekend visitation, and get home feeling far too tired for my own good.
Geez, listen to me ramble! I had a point, really I did, but for some reason I think I lost it for a moment, or I’ve still lost it. Hard to tell right now.
Today, we made it to Staples again. The trip was peaceful, uneventful, sweet and simple! We walked in, she remembered the box, picked it up, we went and looked around at various things like tablets, all-in-one printers, computer chairs, clearance things, and then checked out. Got her ice cream cone, and I sat there as she played afterward. For a time, she was the only child, until a couple came in with their son, and another couple soon after. Then a group of parents, all couples, came in with a bunch of little boys. Everyone, it seemed, had someone there with them with their children. It was me, alone, watching her run around in her flowery tutu skirt, black and rainbow colored striped tights, and purple skirt. Everyone had someone to talk to, someone to laugh with, and I sat there alone.
“The the cheese stands alone.” It was an awkward feeling. One of the reasons I have a hard time wanting to do things in public, being overwhelmed by being alone is difficult for me, I feel so further out of place seeing groups of friends who are parents and both parents are there. Or even just couples with their kids, and then there is me. What a lonely feeling.
Still, I couldn’t dwell for too long, as soon enough the youngest was ‘claimed’ by one of those boys, and he couldn’t have been older than three, he grabbed her wrist, and ran around with her. Held her wrist/hand as they went through the tubes, the slides, played with balls, etc.
When she fell down and hurt herself, just to come over to me with tears in her eyes and rubbing at her arm? He kissed the owie before I could. Though I gave her a hug anyway, they soon enough ran off to one of the giant windows to go watch cars driving down the street. It was intensely sweet, and I wanted to cry from the cuteness overload! When we left, she got two hugs and he waved until we were all the way out of the restaurant. We talked about the experience on the way home to actually have lunch and get ready for school.
I had my first day of classes for college today. Errr, class really. Beginning Rhythm and Movement. Which was, interesting. I got there early and sat in my fan, texting Aussie (my boyfriend, who lives in Australia) while butterflies in my stomach threatened to make me have to spend time in the bathroom expelling my nerves by way of expelling my small brunch of a couple of apple slices and two fiber-one ‘haystacks’ . Only to arrive in class about 8 minutes early and be told “you’ll need paper and a pen”. For… a dance class?
Indeed! Cue a drive home, which was thankfully close but walking would have made me extremely late, and by the time I return I’ve got a minute to spare. Uggh, of course the teacher later commented on the first person in class getting ‘preferred treatment’, her tone wasn’t joking which caused me to worry, even though I was the 3rd one in and the 3 in after me were late! One of them didn’t even get there until 25 minutes after the start of class!
Though the dancing we learned today was rather simple, in its own way anyway, I struggled with a small part of it and thankfully wasn’t the only one. Lots of notes taken, a simple dance section learned and we were done. Going home to spend a little time in peace, having a diet meal that was… well, questionable in its taste, more like texture, though it did required lemon juice, lots of garlic powder, and pepper to even be able to eat it. That and two more haystacks because they’re chocolate and, it’s hard getting back on my diet. *sigh*
The afternoon was riddled with frustrations and drama. No amount of patience saved me today when my son merely decided that none of the family rules were worth listening to, he did not want to do his homework, listen to me, and no amount of healthy snacks (apple slices, mandarin oranges, a couple of haystacks, some milk!) was enough to keep him from being anything other than off the wall, rude, loud, screaming, yelling, fit throwing, growling, fist shaking, glaringly, difficult.
I spent some time hiding in my room until my ex came and invaded my happy. Since he came to say hi to the kids and all, then decided that it was just fine to plop on my bed and read a magazine. Seriously now folks, when a woman is 1. On her period, 2. Having a rough day, and 3. Working on switching over from one anti-depressant medication to another, you really need to learn to back off a bit please?!
From there, my son spent time in his room for his sanity in mine, for him to cool off (as discussed with his therapist and PSR worker) and me time to cool off. Aside from the past 10 minutes, things have been alright, if only I could get him to actually listen to me today. I wouldn’t be >thisclose< to actually considering one of the crummy wine coolers I’ve had sitting untouched in my fridge since September. I took one sip and didn’t like them, but.. oh… the stress is out to destroy me!
Tomorrow, I call the doctor, my anger is coming back in full force and I am questioning my ability to handle things with his issues along with mine. *Waving a white flag* If I can get them to sleep, perhaps my world will mellow down for a few hours. Until we resume the dance tomorrow.