Life is robbing me of what sanity I retain and as usual…I must wonder why I’m not losing my shit, getting a gun, and climbing into a clock tower. Cos that’s what happens when the world pushes people too far, mental or not.
I guess state law prohibiting me from gun ownership due to a psych hospitalization (to treat a med reaction, ffs, totally dangerous person here) makes the gun part iffy. I suppose I could try the sling shot method 10K uses to take out zombies on Z Nation but with my lack of aim…maybe I should learn knife throwing. I have the knives stored properly.
(BTW, that knife holder is an $8 yard sale find, they retail for$40 and upwards, so glad I didn’t sleep late that day.)
No, I am not really feeling violent. Sometimes, frustration can make you ponder it, though. Throw in some PMS and high stress level…
Yesterday with the spawn was awful. I was actually looking forward to taking her to Pizza Hut to use her free pizza Book It certificate. Except she starts in at 7 a.m. Is it time yet? I’m starving. How much longer. Is it time yet? Make them open, Mommy!
Four hours of Uzi fire. Never ending yap yap yap.
Then we got to Pizza Hut. We ordered. Ten seconds later…I’m bored. I’m bored. This is boring. What can I do? I want money for the crane machine. You’re MEAN. She kept beebopping out of the booth, nearly tripping a couple of servers and buffet diners. I told her to sit down and sit still four times. Fifth time, satan voice comes out, which always results in horrified stares from those around me. I glare back and think, you didn’t hear all the times I softly requested she behave. Satan voice WORKS.
Food came. Rather than eat her pizza…She wanted all my breadsticks. I swear she’d take all my organs if she could. I shared but I didn’t give in completely.
Then we got caught in traffic just trying to make the three minute jump over to Dollar Tree.
Where she demanded everything in sight, whined when told no, kept asking, told her no, no, no, end of topic dot com.
Still she pushed. She didn’t listen. She pouted.
Satan voice came out. Oh, how the hordes stared at me in horror. If they only knew how patient I truly am until she pushes me over the edge.
And I was so pissed off, I glared back and didn’t even give a damn about their judgment. Everyone thinks my kid is a joy, she’s so sweet and vibrant and she gives them no problem. They don’t walk in my shoes where that sweet little angel hits and kicks and screams and wishes me dead.
Just ninety minutes out in the dish with her…Did me in.
Then she came home to play with Bella and they started bickering and tattling and I started subtracting money from Spook’s allowance. She caught on after she lost a dollar. Work it out on your own, don’t be a narc. They got along. Then Bella left and once again…I was responsible for entertaining Spook. She cannot be by herself one minute. She is so needy and demanding and nothing I do satisfies her for more than ten seconds.
And no, don’t try to sell me on this being normal kid behavior. A fraction of it is normal. Now that she’s raising her fist in her friends’ faces and hitting them…This is a problem child.
Stuck with a mother whose anxiety and irritation lessen the patience others are gifted with. I try so damned hard.
But then, my best isn’t good enough for anyone around me so why should it be for her.
Reeks of self pity, no? Really it’s not, just so damned hormonal and irked and frustrated.
At least I get bits of joy. Found this in my cabinet when I turned on the light. Nearly gave me a coronary but then I just laughed.
Mr. Voodoo is a living breathing cat knick knack.
To add to my current misery…I was up half the night hacking up a lung, blowing my nose. Up and down, up and down. Five thirty I started to dose off. Six am, Spook decides it time to get up and stay up. So I downed some of the diabetic Tussin my dad gave me and it’s helping with the cough but damn, that shit tastes nasty.
So once again…If we mentally ill (disordered, diseased, whatever word does it for ya) are the dangers to society…and we are so weak and hopeless…
Why is it the seemingly innocuous sane people like Bundy, Dahmer, Clock tower sniper guy are the ones who just go batshit and do whatever horrid deed they want without feeling remorse?
Because there’s a difference between having a personality disorder and having a legit chemical imbalance. Get with the program, society. Or I will 10K your ass with a marble and sling shot. Prolly won’t hit you but…It’s the thought that counts.
Come by the chat room, for the love of pegacorn. Stay five minutes, promote your blog, tell me I’m an idget…I see all these blog meet and greets where you leave your url and a description of your blog and blah blah and dozens of people have time for that.
Is it me? I’ll eat a mint, use more deodorant, bake you a cake..Ok, maybe not a cake cos I don’t really do the Betty Crocker thing but…
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