Cheesus Crust, I'm Hungry
Considering my will power shot craps sometime last week, and the number on the scale shows it, I'm back to self-starvation. Okay, it's not really starvation, but it damn sure feels like it. I'm sure the people of the world who are really starving would take serious offense to that statement, but if they're reading this, that means they have a computer, and if they have a computer, they should sell the damn thing and buy food.
Hmmph.
I am not amused today. I want to eat and eat A LOT. Especially since yesterday. After our huge lunch-o, I decided I must go to the gym and I must kick ass while there. But then we had to wait for Ben's mom to drop off his car (long story, that one), and then we decided to eat dinner first, and then we decided to wait until the after-work crowd should have cleared out...so we didn't get there until a little after 6:30. And it was HOT up in that mo-fo. And smelly. I guess the recent warm weather came as a shock to whoever controls the thermostat at the community center, so that left the gym patrons to marinate in their own juices. I was sweating balls after only 15 minutes on the elliptical, so I gave it another 7 minutes, got on a bike, and called Bob.
Db answers the phone and says "I don't know. We'll see. It's hell over here." Then Bob takes the phone. He's crying. He sounds miserable. It's the "sad" cry as opposed to the "just being a pain in the ass" cry. "Daddy's taking all my toys out of my room." Oh, fuck. Db yells from the background, "tell her why." Bob tells me, "because I'm bad."
Granted, I want to rip that motherfucker's head off on an almost hourly basis, but now he's gone too far. He made my baby cry. For probably no fucking reason other than that he's too stupid to know how to properly handle Bob and his mood swings.
So I tried to console Bob, and he hung up. Adding insult to injury, db calls back a few minutes later. His side of the story is that they were at the park and Bob didn't want to leave. So when they got home, Bob starts throwing toys in his room. (I'm guessing he was sent there by db as punishment, he left that part out.) "I keep trying to talk to him and get him to tell me what's wrong, but he just gets madder and madder." Duh fuck, asshole, maybe that should be your cue to back the fuck off and leave him alone until he gets over it? Then he starts in on me, asking "why has he been on so many medications when you once said you would never medicate him?" Oh, for fucking out loud--how many times have I got to answer this one already? Then he tells me I'm not a doctor and I have no authority to stop giving Bob his medication. Like hell I don't. I am his mother, and when I notice his medication is making things worse, I have every right to take him off of it. "Oh, so now you're a psychologist?"
I don't need this shit from you. Click.
Needless to say, after that I had no interest in burning calories. So I went and pulled Ben off his elliptical and asked if we could go.
Tomorrow's appointment with the psych office is going to be F-U-N fun.
So between Bob's ever-worsening state, db's deteriorating grip on reality, and DST fucking up my sleep cabbage patch, I'm not the happiest camper in the troop today.
I did buy some jeans off ebay last night. I'd been holding off, but now realize I can't just go on with only one pair of jeans that fit until I can squeeze my ass into the others, because it could be a while. So I picked these up and hope to hell they fit. And when I was paying for them, I realized I have two paypal accounts. I bought some shoes for my brother's wedding last October, and I couldn't remember my paypal login, so I created a new account. Today, by some miracle of the human brain, I was able to remember my old login, so I closed the newer account and updated the old one.
Yaaaaaay.
Ben's picking up Bob in another hour and 45 minutes, assuming he makes it that long. When I get home, we'll have roast chicken for dinner, assuming that they weren't lying on the package directions and you really can cook those things from a frozen state. I'm hoping maybe we can go to the park after that, since it's unreasonably warm out. After Bob goes to bed and Ben goes to work, I'll be doing not one, but two step aerobics workouts in an attempt to reclaim what I lost--or rather, re-lose what I gained. Then we get to do it all over again tomorrow.
Joy.
Hmmph.
I am not amused today. I want to eat and eat A LOT. Especially since yesterday. After our huge lunch-o, I decided I must go to the gym and I must kick ass while there. But then we had to wait for Ben's mom to drop off his car (long story, that one), and then we decided to eat dinner first, and then we decided to wait until the after-work crowd should have cleared out...so we didn't get there until a little after 6:30. And it was HOT up in that mo-fo. And smelly. I guess the recent warm weather came as a shock to whoever controls the thermostat at the community center, so that left the gym patrons to marinate in their own juices. I was sweating balls after only 15 minutes on the elliptical, so I gave it another 7 minutes, got on a bike, and called Bob.
Db answers the phone and says "I don't know. We'll see. It's hell over here." Then Bob takes the phone. He's crying. He sounds miserable. It's the "sad" cry as opposed to the "just being a pain in the ass" cry. "Daddy's taking all my toys out of my room." Oh, fuck. Db yells from the background, "tell her why." Bob tells me, "because I'm bad."
Granted, I want to rip that motherfucker's head off on an almost hourly basis, but now he's gone too far. He made my baby cry. For probably no fucking reason other than that he's too stupid to know how to properly handle Bob and his mood swings.
So I tried to console Bob, and he hung up. Adding insult to injury, db calls back a few minutes later. His side of the story is that they were at the park and Bob didn't want to leave. So when they got home, Bob starts throwing toys in his room. (I'm guessing he was sent there by db as punishment, he left that part out.) "I keep trying to talk to him and get him to tell me what's wrong, but he just gets madder and madder." Duh fuck, asshole, maybe that should be your cue to back the fuck off and leave him alone until he gets over it? Then he starts in on me, asking "why has he been on so many medications when you once said you would never medicate him?" Oh, for fucking out loud--how many times have I got to answer this one already? Then he tells me I'm not a doctor and I have no authority to stop giving Bob his medication. Like hell I don't. I am his mother, and when I notice his medication is making things worse, I have every right to take him off of it. "Oh, so now you're a psychologist?"
I don't need this shit from you. Click.
Needless to say, after that I had no interest in burning calories. So I went and pulled Ben off his elliptical and asked if we could go.
Tomorrow's appointment with the psych office is going to be F-U-N fun.
So between Bob's ever-worsening state, db's deteriorating grip on reality, and DST fucking up my sleep cabbage patch, I'm not the happiest camper in the troop today.
I did buy some jeans off ebay last night. I'd been holding off, but now realize I can't just go on with only one pair of jeans that fit until I can squeeze my ass into the others, because it could be a while. So I picked these up and hope to hell they fit. And when I was paying for them, I realized I have two paypal accounts. I bought some shoes for my brother's wedding last October, and I couldn't remember my paypal login, so I created a new account. Today, by some miracle of the human brain, I was able to remember my old login, so I closed the newer account and updated the old one.
Yaaaaaay.
Ben's picking up Bob in another hour and 45 minutes, assuming he makes it that long. When I get home, we'll have roast chicken for dinner, assuming that they weren't lying on the package directions and you really can cook those things from a frozen state. I'm hoping maybe we can go to the park after that, since it's unreasonably warm out. After Bob goes to bed and Ben goes to work, I'll be doing not one, but two step aerobics workouts in an attempt to reclaim what I lost--or rather, re-lose what I gained. Then we get to do it all over again tomorrow.
Joy.
posted by Mitzi Green at 11:27 AM
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