AND THE CHEESE TRIANGLES DON'T GO THAT WAY EITHER
November 03, 2011
It's been a...well, it certainly has been a week. (Said with deep, emphatic, eyebrow-raising emphasis.)
I'm all jumbled up inside, unable to put the not-so-good stuff into words and the not-that-terrible stuff into a humorous context, like: usually a story about an overflowing toilet during a playdate should be good for some pathos, right?
Except when the overflowing toilet overflows twice (because said playdate wouldn't stop flushing it over and over) and floods the basement bathroom at the same time, and this happens right after you learn that your kindergartener was sent to the principal's office that day for behavior problems, and then came home and declared himself a "loser" because of it and begs you to "sign [him] out" of kindergarten, and "sign [him] out FOREVER"...
And right before the cat starts vomiting all over the house and taking random bloody shits in the kitchen...
Which turns out to be an extreme yet ultimately run-of-the-mill reaction to SOMEONE accidentally grabbing a similarly-labeled-but-actually-different bag of cat food at the store, which is a relief...right up until the moment you exhaustively collapse into your bed...and discover that oh, the cat puked there, too...
And then the baby wakes up at 1:15 am, like he's done every night for almost three weeks straight now.
Mix in some of the aforementioned life stressors, a couple of poetically timed diaper/potty incidents from the other two children (AND the dog, who has suddenly developed an aversion to crapping outside first thing in the morning because it's too chilly, or something), a full-moon-like and across-the-board increase in temper tantrums and sibling conflict AND ALSO the triumphant return of my period, and that pretty much brings you up to speed on what the last couple days have been like. A classic slow-burn sneaky hate spiral.
And while usually my first instinct to most of those things would be to curl up with my laptop and CAPSLOCK my way into some insight or catharsis or even just a "let's keep things in perspective, first-world-white-girl" punchline, this week I mostly just want to hide under the covers until everybody promises to JUST STOP POOPING ON ME FOR 15 GODDAMN MINUTES, BOTH LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY.
Of course, we all know that's not gonna happen anytime soon. So I think I'll just take a couple deep breaths, hope that tomorrow is better and then stare at this picture for awhile instead.