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 😂😂😂😂😂