Okay, Sporklish is just me being silly, as in “language of all who love sporks over all untensils.” The “smirkle” actually came from an episode of Madame Secretary, describing someone who was both smiling and smirking. Meh, good a title as any.
It’s 10:30 a.m. Thus far, I have done battle with satan channeling spawn, gotten her to school, the car has behaved perfectly even if the roads are still slick. I went all the way out to the hospital where I had my blood drawn for all my lithium tests, etc the doctor ordered. I got groceries and put them away. I even called my mom to see how she’s feeling since she was at the hospital the other night.
Now can I go back to sleep?
Spook went bonkers on me this morning. One minute she says she wants to leave early so she can eat breakfast at school, then she’s demanding I feed her as well or otherwise she will starve. But instead of eating cereal as I told her, she decided she wanted to wear the very boots I asked her to wear yesterday and she refused and said they didn’t fit right. Except she could only find one boot. Her fit took off fifteen minutes of time I could have been tending to the iced windows on the car. When I finally forced her to sit down and eat cereal she hit the bowl with her spoon so hard cereal flew everywhere. I told her she’s grounded for a week, no dvd or TV. At which point she started screaming like a banshee and punching herself in the head.
Yeah, THAT kind of morning.
I was exhausted before getting out the door, thanks to her fit.
And snap of fingers, she apologized for her behavior while making eye contact, got her coat on, and she was laughing by the time I dropped her off. Which was made easier because the car didn’t act up once. I guess if I can keep it running for five minutes and let it warm up for ten, it does okay as long as it’s not single digits. Of course, that costs gas money I don’t have but what can I do?
Every fiber of my being wanted to just come back home. Instead I went to get the lab work done and over with. Except they couldn’t find the lab order and it turned out he put it under my nickname instead of my legal name. I couldn’t find my medicare card. Grrrl.
Got food, came home, put it all away. Ready to occupy fort blankie for eternity.
Last night wasn’t much better. She talked on and on and on. I heard “Mommy” and “Mama” sixty seven times between 2:40 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. Yes, I counted. Because we’re the only ones here, she could just ask a question without addressing me. I mean, sixty seven fucking in less than six hours? Who wouldn’t want to rip out their eyeballs? She had another screaming mimi when I asked her to go watch her show for 15 minutes so I could chill out. Then when I dared to take a shower she was at the door demanding to know what I was doing.
I love my child, but 2 mg of Xanax a day simply isn’t enough to cope properly with Uzi child.
Speaking of meds…Got notified by my script company they’ll no longer be covering focalin or restoril. The part where it says “here’s a list of alternatives on our formulary”…BLANK. What the fuck? If you’re gonna cut coverage over cost, you should be required by law to provide alternatives. Ass trash.
Once she finally went to sleep last night, I took up fort blankie residence. Except my brain wouldn’t stop spinning. By the time I hit my wall and took a double dose of melatonin…I woke up after only sixty five minutes of sleep. Nodded off again. Then at 2 a.m. she comes to my bed with “nightmarrers” and won’t go back to sleep. When she did finally go to sleep toward four a.m. I was so disgusted and distracted knowing I had to brave the hospital for the blood draw…I couldn’t get back to sleep, especially with her knee in my back.
I think my self blame and denial have hit a wall. My family has me so brainwashed that there’s not a problem, it’s just me putting my issues on her and wanting to medicate her…No, there is something off about a child who has such rage she hits herself and can’t sleep more than five hours at a time seven nights a week.
I really was hoping it was just my transference, my weak nerves, my impatience…Because the school has no problems with her, nor do my family.
It’s GOT to be me, right?
I am just so exhausted by it all come evening. Even when the donor first walked out and it was just me, barely medicated, taking care of a 2 year old alone…I wasn’t this beaten down. And it’s not all her, but her behavior that stresses me out, not to mention neither of us getting any quality sleep thus being so tired every morning…It’s a big chunk of my exhaustion.
Goatwhore, flustration be thy name.
I hate other drivers. On the way home yesterday I took a side street and this other car was coming toward on the other side of the road. I was in the ditch, driving this big ass tank while they have a Tonka truck, and instead of them moving over for me… I had to eek by them with maybe an inch and a half between them and a parked car. I didn’t breathe the entire ten seconds it took to pass, so terrified of hitting something and messing up mom’s insurance. Of course, Spook just kept yapping the whole time and…wow. I just hate leaving my bubble, the dish is vile.
Deon, win that lottery and share so I can afford a driver during my worst anxiety, please. Because road rage is gonna be the death of me at some point and I might even play bumper car with some dish dwellers.
Oh, out of curiosity…is anyone else taking Melatonin for sleep? If so, does it give you really fucked up dreams?
Because that double dose last night had me dreaming that I was hanging with Sam and Dean from Supernatural but I was out grocery shopping and then half my finger got cut off and I went to the hospital but they tried to lock me up on a psych hold and Dean cut the doctor to help me escape…
Seriously, if this is what all sleeping aids do…I am doomed to never sleep peacefully again.
If I am hanging out with Sam and Dean, I’m taking that Impala for a spin. If I can’t dream about the good stuff…get out.