Broken
I want to write a really cool and interesting post tonight, but alas, my cool and interesting mojo is broken. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today, but I’ve been on edge and grouchy. I tried to reign it in with Erik, but the poor kid got slapped on the hand for touching my sewing machine and yelled at more than a few times. He’s really into pretend right now, especially pretending that a witch is chasing him, so when I would feel the need to explode I would yell at the invisible witch.
Also, I taught him to fart at the witch to make her go away.
We’re classy over here.
But hey! I read an article about bully-proofing your kid in Wondertimes and it said that the best way to keep your kid from getting bullied is to teach him not to get upset when people say rude things. They should have a come back instead. So if someone bullies him, he can make a fart joke and not get his block knocked off.
Oh yeah, baby. I’m always thinking. Maybe I need a few parenting classes.
Also, apparently I am Canadian. I just posted a long comment about the Wiggles (they’ve invaded my home again) over at Some Pig’s place and spelled household with one of those Canadian u’s–househould. Is that Canadian or just plain wrong?
I had three packages to get in the mail this afternoon (Grain Damaged your shoebox is on its way!), which was partially what was stressing me out. I ended up ripping out a few seams from the block I made yesterday and re-doing the edges because there was a small size discrepancy. As I was standing over the iron I started feeling really woozy and thought I was going to faint. I don’t think fainting with an iron in your hand is ever a good idea. I was trying to figure out if it was low blood sugar or high blood sugar or what, but I never did get around to asking Dr. Google. I just ate some M&Ms and hoped for the best, while screeching at Erik to leave me alone. I really don’t need a half-naked child climbing up my leg while I’m trying to iron.
Nor do I need a child trying to stick his head in the toilet while I’m peeing. He was trying to find my wiener and refused to believe me when I explained I don’t have one. He thought I was hiding it from him and was determined to find it.
Nor do I need a child who poops his pants on the playground after I’ve just cleaned out the backpack and forgotten to restock it with clean underwear and wipes.
Nor do I need a child who thinks 6:15 is a great time to wake up.
It was a FUN day today! Let’s all do a cheer!
Now I’m feeling a little guilty for saying I don’t need a child who does those things. I wish he wouldn’t be so naughty, but I need him like I need air. I never wanted kids and now I don’t know what I would do without him. Funny how that motherlove can fill up even the most cynical heart.
Ok, I just checked Dr. Google to find out what the hell is wrong with me. There is no entry for “feels like you have fire ants crawling through your body with a good dose of dizziness.” Perhaps my search terms are too descriptive. I have a feeling it is a good dose of anxiety about our financial situation. Mike’s job is about to get on my very last nerve and there’s not a thing I can do about it. I am encouraging him to send out his resume, but though I love the man dearly, he is not quick about anything. Heck, I moved to Sweden in September and rather than buy a bed that would accommodate us both, he slept on a trundle bed until November because he had to think. What’s with all the thinking? Go out and do! He probably thought I was going to take one look at Kiruna, the northern most city in Sweden, and run away. I was too gloopy in love to do that, even though Kiruna will never make my top ten list of places I’ve lived.
This is a ramble. I’ll give you that.