Bull’s Eye

T has been home sick for the whole week. Headache, stomach ache, slight fever and a cough. The first two days he slept 13-15 hours which caused me a great deal of concern. The cough settled in his chest, harsh and well, I have heard the sound before many a time coming from myself. Dug out the inhaler and he had to use it a few times.

Yesterday he was feeling better. As the day progressed he turned from the sweet sick hasn’t eaten a full meal all week, into the 9 year old doofus that is my son. The voices came back. The odd thing where he wrinkles his nose and curls one side of his lip returned. His appetite returned.

I made a top sirloin roast yesterday. When I buy roasts, I cut them in half as T and me cannot eat a whole one to ourselves. The amount of leftovers never gets eaten either so I am learning. 375 degrees for almost an hour. Should probably have pulled it out after about 45-50 minutes. Still as I cut it, the knife moved through it like butter.

Prepared T’s plate for him and set it on the table. Informed him that I wanted him to eat all of it. I knew based on the week that the likelihood of his eating a lot was next to nil so I had only given him a wee bit. I was getting my own plate ready when the following occurred between us.

‘Mom, where is my ketchup?’

‘Ketchup? With that roast? No you are not ruining it with ketchup.’

‘But mom it is just for dunking.’

‘T you are not using ketchup. Use the bbq sauce. There are three on the bottom.’

‘Which one should I use?’

‘The one that is open?’ I realized I had given him an out there so came over to the fridge and pointed to the bottom shelf. ‘There that one.’

I go back to my plate and suddenly T is having a little fit.

‘Mom, what, this was never opened! I cannot get the lid open. Mom, what is going on?’

He is muttering away as I walk into the living room. Shaking the bottle and trying to find the seam on the cap. I place my plate down and turn to look at him about to ask him to hand me the bottle and I would open it for him. Now I was really perplexed because it is a BBQ sauce that has already been open! Had he been so weakened by his week of illness that he could not get the lid off?

As I reach my hand out about to say just give me the bottle already I realize what he is doing. His thumb keeps sliding off the lid as he is trying to flip it open. The petulant look on his face ended it for me. I begin to howl. T is staring at me like I have gone insane.

‘Dude, it is a screw top not a flip top!’

If looks could kill, I would not be typing this up right now. I laughed until I had tears in my eyes. T was so not impressed with me. I was told that I was not funny in the least and I was to stop laughing. Little did he know that I posted it to Facebook and now here. Am sure that he will appreciate the humor once he is a parent himself.

For now I am rapidly becoming the ‘uncool’ mom which I am totally fine with. If this is any indication of what is to come, I am going to have a lot of humorous stories to write up. T may find right now that my desire to document the things he says annoying and so a mom thing. Yet, when he is older and time has done its work, he will be able to sit down and reread about his youth.

And I am pretty sure, that he is going to have a sense of humor which is a carbon copy of mine. 🙂 🙂 🙂


Therapy/Counselling #3

Today is meet the Psychiatrist day. Wohoo am I excited.

I mean what if he thinks I am insane? I mean I might be right? Wait though would I question my insanity if I was insane?

A little humor to help my nerves. 😂😂

Butt Lift

Still having issues with the writing but I found humor in this and I hope you do as well.

On the way to school this morning T and me are talking about how if I win the lottery we would go to Egypt for sure. He also still had to go to school but we would travel as much as possible.

We are sitting at the last stop sign before turning right and letting T off. I look over at him. His blue jacket zipped all the way up, hood on, pulled up to his nose. He has been a little crabby this morning.

‘I also want to get a butt lift.’

‘A what?’

‘A butt lift.’

‘Mom what is a butt lift?’

‘Well that is when one pays to have their butt lifted. Firmed.’

I glance over and struggled to contain my giggles. T had reared back against the door and his nose was wrinkled in disgust. The look of abject horror was almost too much to stand.

‘No mom, no, you are not allowed a butt lift.’

And than I dropped him off at school and we did our ritual good byes. I love that boy so much. It is fun to tease him because he cannot hide his facial expressions and well those are the most fun to see.

Tiny Face

So this last week has been right difficult for me. So much so that I have been unable to write save for the two poems I spewed out. I have so much to process and with the start of therapy am about to deal with all of it. I think that due to some memories (?) that I had over the last week, I have locked down my brain. I want to do nothing more than not think. I spend a lot of time playing games on the computer or watching t.v. I still am unable to read which I admit is driving me insane. Reading has always been my escape.
As I write this my heart is pounding and I am veering off. Worried that I am going to start thinking again and I do not want that right now.  Also because my writing is so much based within me and I am stifling it at the moment.
Now, not all week was morose and full of sorrow. T is going to be spending the night with me every night for the next six months while the Ex and S.O. are working evenings/nights. Every night with the exception of the Saturday and Sunday of his weekend. Friday T and me are sitting here talking and of course laughing.
T is asking me questions about the Playstation 3 that we use to have. Also about the video game that we use to have for it. A shooting game. Turns out I am not bad at those types of games. So T is giving me a run down of all the Call of Duty’s that are out there and I am shrugging my shoulders and I don’t knowing. Finally in exasperation T says to me ‘mom what year was the game?’ ‘Before you were born’ came out of my mouth and I began to giggle uncontrollably. T is staring at me like I have grown a second head or something and I am almost in tears I am laughing so hard. “Mom what is so funny?’
‘Everything is always from before you were born.’ ‘Okay, and?’ ‘And nothing, I think it is funny’ The side long look I received made me laugh again and T shook his head in disgust with me.
Later as we are sitting here, T is downloading a new game for free for his Xbox. We are again chatting away and he keeps staring at the screen and huffing and puffing. It was not downloading fast enough for him. In fact it ended up taking overnight for that to happen.
T is grumping and grousing as he sits here flipping around trying to figure out what is going on. I am watching him and we flip back to the downloading screen and low and behold the bar has begun to turn purple. I laugh and say to him ‘Oh ye of little faith.’ T looks at me in horror and says ‘Mom I do not have a tiny face!’ I was laying on the couch tears streaming down my face as I howled with laughter. It took me forever to calm down and tell him what was so funny. He spent the rest of the evening muttering about how rude I was to say he had a tiny face.
Last but not least was the shower debate. This is going to be an ongoing issue and I believe it is one all parents have struggled with at one time or another. (Mom you are not allowed to comment about the weekend thing at all) T is a boy. Boys apparently are unable to smell themselves at all. I realized with horror that he had not showered on Thursday evening. Nor Wednesday. Sent him to his room and told him to take everything off and get in the shower. This lead to an arguement and he digs his heels in. Donkey, stubborn, can’t move him an inch.
I finally give in because the next day is Saturday and he has sworn that he is going to shower in the morning. Note to self, as T only believes that pinkie promises are meant to be kept, make sure all important promises are pinkie ones.
T comes out in the onsie he received for Christmas and I asked him where he found it. He stated in his bed, with the rest of his clothes. I am attempting another new concept, wash and fold T’s clothes but than I put them on his bed. My expectation is that those clothes are going to be taken from the bed and hung up in the closet. Apparently not the same expectation that T has. He is sleeping with his clothes. I shake my head and look the other way. One day when he is struggling with his own child (although he says maybe he won’t have any children so that they won’t be just like him as they won’t exist. 9 3/4 year old boy logic.) he will look back on this and have an aha moment. Or not. He may still be sleeping with his clothes, unmarried, writing his Pickel stories and eating cookies for breakfast. (Not to say you can’t eat cookies for breakfast when you are married but it is less likely.)
Back to the story, T sits down on the floor and begins playing with his cars. Youtube is playing on the television and I am sitting on my couch playing Clockmaker on FB. As I am sitting here this aroma begins to invade my nostrils. Mind you as I had begun to smell it, this odor had obviously already made an assult and won. It was horrifying and I flashed back to my brother’s feet growing up. And how much they stank. Family thing. Hope like hell that it does not affect T. But omg the smell! I squint over at T and begin to breath through my mouth. (Not much better as the odor than attempted to coat itself on my tongue which is like ick times infinity)
‘T, are those your feet that I am smelling?’
He stops playing with his cars looks at me, looks at his feet, stands up and comes to sit next to me on my couch! My couch! Not sure if I have mentioned that with the Xbox being in the living room T wanted his loveseat from his bedroom in here so we were not always arguing about space. The odor immediately assults me and I am afraid that it is now going to be ingrained in my skin, my hair. I am not so far off as now I cannot seem to escape the smell. He lifts his foot and smells it. Puts it down and smells the other one. Like seriously, one foot was not enough?
‘Yep they are mom.’
‘Think you should wash them?’
‘Not that bad.’
Not that bad? Not that bad? Lucky accidentally made contact with his foot while he was sitting here and recoiled in horror. Maybe not horror but she did pull back and give him that beady eye cat look. The one that says ‘wth man are you trying to kill me? Now feed me to make it all better.’
T’s grandparents picked him up just after noon on Saturday. Taking him out for lunch and than to his dad’s. I am pretty pumped because I cleaned the apartment again. That is two weeks in a row. Prior to that it had been December 17th. Downloaded Spotify to the Xbox and was able to listen to music as I cleaned. Once done I even made and ate a bowl of soup. Another milestone because T was not here to feed but I fed myself.
I began to have a small ‘thinking’ episode later in the afternoon but was able to shut it down. Pot was instrumental in helping me. Not the plant but my girlfriend. LOL we were joking one day about how she was the pot calling the kettle black and we began calling one another Pot and Kettle. I messaged her and she spent a good 45 minutes talking with me. Listening to my weird ramblings and helping to calm me.
Eventually I will be able to write about what is going on with me, but not right now. Yet I miss writing, I miss watching the words pour out of me and struggling to find the right one now, it hurts. I will come through out the other side, but until than, I will remember T’s tiny face when I finally told him it was abnormally small. LOL 😂😂😂😂😂

Shorthand Speak

Today is a bit rough for me so I thought that I would share the humor that T and me shared this morning. (He is spending nights with me while his dad is at work.)

I have a very bad habit of shorthand speaking. I believe I have talked about it before. I only speak half the sentence and fully expect that the person knows what I am talking about.

The following is the conversation we had:

Me: Okay T time to turn it off. We have to get ready to go. (Driving to school)

T: Okay mom.

I turn around and he has turned the Xbox off and is about to turn the t.v. off.

Me: What are you doing?

T: Turning it off like you said. What are you doing turning it on?

Me: I leave the t.v. on so that I have background noise all day.

T: But you told me to turn it off.

Me: Yeah, I meant for you to turn off Youtube so I could put Amazon on.

T: Well I did not understand that!

Shorthand speak strikes again.

He’s a boy

Yesterday T and me, we went shopping. I had not been in awhile and although the freezer selection of meat was fine, I had run low on lunch supplies. Side dishes. And I needed some more fish. And the Top Sirloin Roasts and Steaks, they were on for a great price. So I had to. But this is not about my shopping trip or the fact I overspent once more but got a ton of Air Miles, not this, this is about T.

On the way to the store, T found the old wipers I had taken off of the car and replaced last weekend. He was pretending that one was a gun. Our drive is approximately 5 minutes. During that time he killed I do not know how many bad guys, all the while with a running commentary so that I was kept safe.

No problemo. Get to the store and there is a small rule I have. This is where I work. Please do not run amok and act like a moron. In other words, for the 20 minutes it will take us to shop, please pretend that you are an alien who is inhabiting my child’s body; who watched Miss Manners while trying to learn our culture. Alas, it was not meant to be. There were bad guys everywhere.

I stopped to grab vitamins. Requested that T stay with the cart. Turn around and who is behind be? Sans cart? T! I roll my eyes and ask where the heck the cart is. Here mom, I moved it two rows over, it is safe here. The logic of a 9 year old boy.

My eyes got a great workout while we were shopping. I was rolling them. Hissing his name every 30 seconds it felt like as he whipped around corners. I get gargling my threats, as I silently shrieked watch out at him. He was immune to my silent glares. I apologized to so many customers that he almost sideswiped.

In T’s defense, he was using the cart as a shield and attacking the bad guys. He was keeping the shopping world safe.

Realized that I forgotten butter. Made him promise not to move from the bakery section. Came back to find him in the meat department visiting with the lobsters.

I explained to him that despite his apparent dislike for grocery shopping that the more he misbehaved the more times he was going to have to come with me. He stared at me like I had grown three heads and I could suddenly see the hamsters achurnin’. How much worse would he have to be before I would stop making him come? I quickly shut those hamsters up by explaining that until such time as he can act like a human being, he will be continuing to shop with me.

This goes against everything T has been taught. Behave badly and get what you want. Yell and scream, mom or dad will let me go out. Not now. Mom and dad are on the same page. No more bad behaviour. And it is my responsibility not to beat a dead issue, to ensure that when I release him into the world, that he knows how to behave as a member of society.

We got to the till and T takes off with the bags while I am unloading. I stand up and wth? Where did he go? My supervisor found him and I am again hissing at him. I must have sounded like a snake half the time. Get over here with the bags please. Sent him off to get me a flyer. Turn around and he is sitting down with two bags and the flyer.

My supervisor bagging is chortling to herself. She is newly married. I looked at her with a raised eyebrow and gave her my best advice ‘avoid children at all costs.’

We finally got out of there and home. T helped by carrying in the two lightest bags on his windshield wiper bow. Than he was off. I was texting with a friend and grumbling to him about the behaviour in the store when he stopped me dead in my tracks:

‘Jay he is a 9 year old boy being a 9 year old boy. Hopped up on sugar and grocery shopping with his mom. Of course he was obnoxious.’

And there you have it. Sudden shift of perception. He is not even a human being at the moment. He is a 9 year old boy who sees bad guys and guns everywhere. Trucks and cars and loud noises are his forte. Fart jokes and things like ‘why did the girl fall off the swing? ‘Cause she was dead!’ sends him into spasms of laughter.

No matter how often I cringe, the words balls, nuts, etc are now a part of the lexicon in my household. And not by choice.

Yes it is my job to make him that alien who can go shopping, but it is also my job to let him be this alien who is a rambunctious child filled with joy and innocence for as long as I am able.