Remember that?
Yeah, fuck that. I have a completely different perspective on my clingy kid after the weekend I've just had. Sorry, Empress; I guess my brain can't process that kind of good feeling for more than a few days or so, especially not with all these factors working against me. I've spent the weekend practically with Child 2 glued to my side. I'm sure there were actually many hours in which he was somewhere else, but it sure fucking felt like he was there 24/7.
It all started on Friday afternoon when I'm hanging around on the K yard with him and his buddies and he would cry and sit in my lap at the drop of a hat. Everything was my fault, though. I made him fall; I made the ball hit him in the head, etc. I was only there with him for about 45 minutes but by the time it was over my patience was very very thin. Luckily it was Friday, though. And Fridays are drinkin' days in my house.
Saturday was Birthday Party #1. It was at the place where his buddy takes karate (and his buddy's mom is my friend and I love hanging out with her, so that was helpful. She'll probably read this, too. Hi H's Mom!!!!!!!). At one point there was an injustice (somebody bumped him? I don't know. Does it matter?) and the tears started flowing. I was standing across the room, watching, and I knew that if I were to get myself involved it would just be another cascade of blame, so I watched as the Karate chick... (actually I think they're called "Masters" or something, except it's a woman. Do women still get called "Masters" ? I guess "Mistress" is too S&M or something, although this woman is so fucking kick ass awesome she's definitely earned the title of "Master." Okay, Master it is!) ... so, I stayed there by the food table and conspicuously stared at the cheese and salami platter and watched as the Karate Master chick completely defused his tantrumming simply by not being me.
I'm sorry but that fucking pisses me off. Okay, I know. I KNOW. The fact that he can fucking "let it all go" with me is an indication that I've done a good job or whatever and he feels safe with me and blah blah blah but fuck that! That's just fucking insulting. I'm sick of being the source of all of his problems.
Sunday was another birthday party and at this point my patience was completely gone, which I think he could sense because it was just another long line of tantrums. He snagged his fingers on the door coming in and it was my fault because I was trying to break his hand. He rubbed his arm up against something and it was my fault because I didn't make him wear a long sleeved shirt and was trying to make his arm burn.
And et cetera.
At one point I was sitting there trying to get him to put his shoes on so that he could go and have some fucking cake and I thought "hey remember how I blogged just a week ago about how my entire perspective on this has changed? One day this will end? And one day I will miss this? Remember that? One day I will miss this. One day I will miss this. One day I will miss this." It was like a mantra.
Didn't work. I have never before in my life wanted to fucking throttle a person more than I did right then. I kept my cool, though. Getting pissed at him only makes it worse. I know from experience.
Oh well; the good attitude was nice while it lasted. Maybe the Empress will write something else?
