I Love a Parade
Last night was fun.
I picked up Bob and was told he had a 9/10 day right up til about 20 minutes before I picked him up, when he started being a shit to one of the girls. (The same girl, coincidentally or not, that he lobbed a dirt clod at the day before.) So he was pissed because he was in trouble. He stuck his tongue out at me when I told him to get his stuff and let's go. The teacher told him to apologize to me. He did. Then I told him to apologize to her. He did. Then he turned to her 1-year-old son--who he adores--and gave him the sweetest, gentlest hug I've ever seen from a kid.
I will never understand that kid's brain.
When we were close to home, I pulled my phone out of my purse on a whim. Four text messages from Ben. I took this to mean one thing, and I was right.
The db posse was back.
I guess they showed up shortly after 5. Around the same time a friend of Ben's stopped by just to say hello. Ben's friend walked past them, chatted up the cop for a few minutes, then walked up and knocked on our door. 30 seconds later, the cop knocked on the door. Ben told him it was really a waste of everyone's time to keep coming back to our house--my answer hadn't changed and wasn't going to. The cop asked Ben when I'd be home, and Ben said "she doesn't usually get home til 5:30--but honestly, she probably won't come home as long as he's out there." Damn right. So they left. When I was almost home, I could have sworn I saw db and some chick pulling out of the alley--so I drove around the block and pulled in behind our house, through the alley, and parked in the back yard. (Turns out it was our very similar-looking neighbor and his wife driving around looking for their dog.) Bob and I went inside, Ben's friend left, we ate dinner, and I waited for them to come back.
That's when I started to freak out a little. Ben had to leave for an interview, and I didn't want to be home alone if they came back. Thankfully, they didn't come back, and Ben and I managed to avoid the "you love your job more than you love me" argument. For the most part.
Bob's mood has definitely shifted as of yesterday. He was quieter, not as wound up, and though still quick to anger, it didn't escalate to ugliness. He tossed an absolute fit when I told him it was bathtime--the show he'd been watching had ended and he wasn't happy about that, either--so he copped an attitude, but he didn't really fight me much. But when I saw him standing on the rim of the toilet while peeing into it, I told him to get down, and he slammed the lid down. I don't know if it was the attitude, or the fact our toilet is cracked anyway and I don't want to pee in the sink until Mr. Landlord gets around to replacing it when it finally breaks, but that gesture pissed me off. So without a word, I gave him a single "swat" on his backside. I use quotes because I'm not even sure it would qualify as a real swat, as I barely made contact. All the more obvious by his comment "that didn't even hurt." But I was walking away at that point and just said "get in the tub, please. And flush." Which he did. And then it was done with.
This morning he was pissed because he came out wearing shorts (I haven't gotten as far as removing all summer apparel from his room) and I told him to put on jeans (it was 48 degrees this morning). But it didn't last long at all.
My head continues to spin with the sheer mystery of it all.
Oh, well. Ben took him to school this morning (have I mentioned how great my husband is?) so I didn't have to deal with that portion of the morning stress. It was nice.
And now for the fluff portion of my post:
It is and will always be my favorite show, but does anyone else think CSI went a little over the top with killing off Sam Braun?
I wonder if he left Catherine in his will...
I picked up Bob and was told he had a 9/10 day right up til about 20 minutes before I picked him up, when he started being a shit to one of the girls. (The same girl, coincidentally or not, that he lobbed a dirt clod at the day before.) So he was pissed because he was in trouble. He stuck his tongue out at me when I told him to get his stuff and let's go. The teacher told him to apologize to me. He did. Then I told him to apologize to her. He did. Then he turned to her 1-year-old son--who he adores--and gave him the sweetest, gentlest hug I've ever seen from a kid.
I will never understand that kid's brain.
When we were close to home, I pulled my phone out of my purse on a whim. Four text messages from Ben. I took this to mean one thing, and I was right.
The db posse was back.
I guess they showed up shortly after 5. Around the same time a friend of Ben's stopped by just to say hello. Ben's friend walked past them, chatted up the cop for a few minutes, then walked up and knocked on our door. 30 seconds later, the cop knocked on the door. Ben told him it was really a waste of everyone's time to keep coming back to our house--my answer hadn't changed and wasn't going to. The cop asked Ben when I'd be home, and Ben said "she doesn't usually get home til 5:30--but honestly, she probably won't come home as long as he's out there." Damn right. So they left. When I was almost home, I could have sworn I saw db and some chick pulling out of the alley--so I drove around the block and pulled in behind our house, through the alley, and parked in the back yard. (Turns out it was our very similar-looking neighbor and his wife driving around looking for their dog.) Bob and I went inside, Ben's friend left, we ate dinner, and I waited for them to come back.
That's when I started to freak out a little. Ben had to leave for an interview, and I didn't want to be home alone if they came back. Thankfully, they didn't come back, and Ben and I managed to avoid the "you love your job more than you love me" argument. For the most part.
Bob's mood has definitely shifted as of yesterday. He was quieter, not as wound up, and though still quick to anger, it didn't escalate to ugliness. He tossed an absolute fit when I told him it was bathtime--the show he'd been watching had ended and he wasn't happy about that, either--so he copped an attitude, but he didn't really fight me much. But when I saw him standing on the rim of the toilet while peeing into it, I told him to get down, and he slammed the lid down. I don't know if it was the attitude, or the fact our toilet is cracked anyway and I don't want to pee in the sink until Mr. Landlord gets around to replacing it when it finally breaks, but that gesture pissed me off. So without a word, I gave him a single "swat" on his backside. I use quotes because I'm not even sure it would qualify as a real swat, as I barely made contact. All the more obvious by his comment "that didn't even hurt." But I was walking away at that point and just said "get in the tub, please. And flush." Which he did. And then it was done with.
This morning he was pissed because he came out wearing shorts (I haven't gotten as far as removing all summer apparel from his room) and I told him to put on jeans (it was 48 degrees this morning). But it didn't last long at all.
My head continues to spin with the sheer mystery of it all.
Oh, well. Ben took him to school this morning (have I mentioned how great my husband is?) so I didn't have to deal with that portion of the morning stress. It was nice.
And now for the fluff portion of my post:
It is and will always be my favorite show, but does anyone else think CSI went a little over the top with killing off Sam Braun?
I wonder if he left Catherine in his will...
posted by Mitzi Green at 11:24 AM
1 Comments:
jeez..talk about having your hands full. while it sounds painful at times, i very much appreciate the candor with which you write.
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