grey day betchfist

Grey day.
Everything is grey.
I watch
But nothing moves today.*

It has been a grey week. The whole is-it-or-isn't-it-a-health-related-drama. The noncelebration of our anniversary. The there's-no-Christmas-tree-in-my-house. The whole business of being married this week. The resting. The child who is in Kindergarten.

It is just all very awful.

And I really, really, reallyreallyreally hate whining, but I'm starting to lose my shit over here.

The health business. I'm fine. The grotie antibiotic I'm on to kill the grotie bacteria is doing its job (and more! hello, yogurt, here I come!!!), and I no longer feel like I'm having contractions. The whole is there/is there not amniotic fluid situation got a smiley face sticker at the OB, and that is great. Really, I'm thrilled about being fine.

The anniversary blah? Well, I felt like crap all day long + I went to the ER = not fun. And how not one single, solitary person that I am related to even remembered or mentioned my anniversary to me? Let's walk away from that one. Because it just doesn't do any good to be annoyed with, say, my mother, for...well...anything.

The lack of Christmas tree? Goes back to the feeling like crap. I'm supposed to be resting (ha!) and traipsing around a Christmas tree farm is probably not the bestest of ideas.

The marriage business? There are some things I mention just to keep it real. And sometimes marriages are a colossal pain in the ass. And that is all I am going to say.

The resting. Ach, the resting is killing me. I have sat still for a really, really, really long time, and I watched some STUPID movies, yes, The Jane Austen Book Club, Sweet Home Alabama, and Love, Actually, I AM LOOKING AT YOU. (Those are in order of decreasing amounts of suck, in case you are wondering.)

And the Kindergarten-aged child. Will.Not.Stop.Shouting.At.Me. We made gingerbread houses with some friends on Sunday, and they are completely adorable. (Here is where I start about Homework In Kindergarten.) Our homework assignment, due two days ago, was to make a Christmas craft. Gingerbread house? Check. That will totally qualify. Except Miss O. didn't want to actually take it to school. No big deal, another parent in the class was planning to send a picture of their family's elaborate craft in, so that's what I did, too. Except I got a phone call an hour ago telling me that the photograph of the craft was not an option. Bringing in a photo was not the assignment.

Here's the thing, I said as calmly as I possibly could without losing my shit on the teacher, because I reallytruly am thisclose, I told Miss O I would bring her to school with her gingerbread house today. And she wants her gingerbread house at home. She worked hard on it, and she wants to admire it here.

That's not an option, Teacher said. It needs to be in school, in the display case, and nobody will touch it or eat the candy. I will be happy to pick it up from your house, if that would make it easier.

Do you know what would make it easier? I asked. If my formerly pleasant daughter would stop screaming and yelling and stomping her feet and being a general terrorist at home. I told her I would bring her to school with the gingerbread house, and she flipped out. I mean REALLY FLIPPED OUT. And honestly? It's not worth it to me to deal with that behaviour so that you can put the thing in a display case. I am very glad that she is doing well in school, but frankly I have had enough of the ridiculous behaviour at home, behaviour that only ever gets worse.

It was at this point that Teacher offered to work with Miss O in school to help reinforce the idea of good behaviour at home.

It was also at this point that I was sniffling quietly into the phone.

Because I have had enough.

Ten minutes later, I got another phone call, someone with lovely intentions, who knows I am having Some Fusstration In Me. And everything said was kind and made sense and was valid and useful, and also just too much for me to handle right now.

Have I mentioned I've had enough?

I realize I am painting a picture of a week that is nothing but disappointing and frustrating, but it's not all that. I have had three friends bring lovely dinners to my family. I had lunch with another friend (who also kissed me on the mouth for sharing coffee with her). I had good news about my pregnancy. I spent an hour and a half on the couch reading with HB this morning.

It's not that I don't see those things, and don't appreciate them. I do. More than I can say.

I am just having a hard time finding the middle, the place between losing it and the other place. I'm not really sure what the name of that place is, or where it's located.

Also I am not at all remembering that other place. And I don't know if it exists.

*My Many Colored Days, by Dr. Seuss