Somebody, please write something happy and joyful about gumdrops and lollipops! Google reader has been sparse of late, and I’m teetering on the brink of emotional meltdown.
Yes, I’m hiding out in my room, while the rest of the family is sprawled on the couch watching TV. I’m in and out of tears, and can’t be around them. I think it’s safe to say that my limits have been exceeded.
The two teenagers were rough-housing this afternoon, and I could hear yelling and slapping or something like that going on. Part of me wanted to just scream at them, but I didn’t want to give such a display around my little guy, so I squelched it and just kept him away from them, distracting him with a book. Transformers. There’s a picture in the table of contents with an array of Transformers across the bottom of the page, and he pointed to and correctly named every single one. He’s a smartie, my little guy. I’m very impressed. And proud of him.
Tonight I made pasta with two sauces. Some prefer red, some prefer white. But I’m wicked, and I minced two whole onions and cooked them into the sauce. Because both kids hate onions.
Two days ago, while the teenagers were putting the dinner leftovers away, I noticed that Bubba, who has been loudly and expressively coughing into his hands, use those very hands to put the chopped onions in a container. I told him that the reason I have tongs out is so that the foods don’t have to make contact with people’s germy hands. “Then I’ll eat them,” he said. A flat out blatant lip serving lie. He hates onions, and would not in a million years eat them. I almost told him to eat them NOW, in front of me, to make good on his word, and teach him a lesson in not giving lip service. If he were my kid, I would have. But if he were my kid, surely he wouldn’t be such an ass. I’m just so tired of it. But I refrained.
Yesterday I made a salad with peas, kidney beans, corn, peppers (the more civilized peoples of the earth call them capsicum), and chopped red onions. Mostly for me (I know, high carb, but relatively good carbs), because I can’t be eating the junk they prefer. I made them a diabetic’s nightmare of baked beans, red beans and rice (which I actually love, but can’t have), and hot dogs. So Bubba took a good sized portion of the salad, even though I told him it had onions in it, and he proceeded to pick out each and every fragment of onion, and expressively gulp and laboriously choke down the remainder. He also claimed to have discovered three short pieces of hair in his beans and rice, and comment on how disgusting that was.
I know it does little to no good to go to such length in describing and reliving these irks, but I need to vent, for my own sanity.
Last night, we gave them a huge bag of candy to take home with them, which delighted them immensely. I had only one caveat. Please don’t eat any of that in front of BB. So tonight, here comes Bubba, chomping on candy, right in front of BB. So I reiterated that I asked that he not do that. “I didn’t hear you say that.” It’s infuriating. He apparently hears NOTHING I say. I could scream. But instead I’m just cold, and try my best to ignore him, not look at him, not be in the same room with him, and not speak to him. He’s a leper.
Every day I look for something good. Some kind words. Something. Anything. But every day I hear only sarcasm, ridicule, criticism, and an endless array of exaggerated body noises. Smacking lips, loud gulping of liquids, coughs, hacks, and on and on and on. Screaming for attention.
The sad thing is, I could go on and on with two or three times as many examples of things that have transpired. But this is exhausting, and I hate that I’ve stooped to such a low level of humanity to take the time and trouble to spew this forth. I could be the better person, and just suck it up. But I’m not the better person. Not today.
