Time Out

Published May 26, 2016 by sarcasmica

It’s fair to say I’ve been processing some shit recently. I’ve had some dental apocalypse that I’m currently dealing with, and I’m also getting through the after effects of the car accident I was in with my kids.

This, of course, is not the end of the shit show. There have been a few epilogues. You see, the dentist recommended I get a different opinion on the orthodontia the day of my extractions – five days post accident – and now we have hired a lawyer to deal with the crap the car insurance company is trying to pull.

This all requires constant communication and sending info and follow ups and conversations with my husband about how to move forward not to mention the kids are back at their activities and all of our post-accident-related doctor visits.

And my husband is away on business for the length of this.

I’ve been dealing. I’ve been dealing by doing a lot of ‘resting’ which means i’m on the couch a lot. I have various aids with me like heating pads, ice packs, remote controls, water. This is not to say I get much rest. I’m always popping up for snacks for the kids, drinks for the kids, dishes, laundry, normal every day requirements of not living in a hovel. Today, however, i’ve had it.

It seems my sanity breaking point coincides with my daughter’s intolerance for her own poop. She is 5 and she has figured out the magical word “diarrhea”. She learned a bit ago that if she says this word in conjunction with sitting on the toilet, some adult will come and see if she has this mystical situation to deal with.

Needless to say the word lost all of it’s magic after the first five shouts of “ITHINKITSDIARRHEA!!!!”

So today I finally had the ability and energy to get TWO loads of laundry done AND folded… I know… give it a minute…

I did dishes, I cleaned the counter tops with actual cleaning solution. Not just wiping around a wet paper towel. I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher. I cleaned the stove top again with the actual proper cleaning solutions, I made lunch, I dusted the blinds, and yes even managed a cup of coffee in between. (and now must take the Ibuprofen)

I had just sat down to slowly and carefully chew my salad when from the bathroom what do mine weary ears decipher?

“M-O-M-M-Y?” (She’s in a ‘spell it’ phase which is not at all annoying after six hours)
Me: chew chew “yes?”
Pooper: “Can you please come here?”
chewer: “Nope.”
P: “ButIthinkitsdiarrhea!!”
c: “Oh bummer, man. You need to take care of it the same as any other time you poop.”
P:”I CAAAAAAAN’T!!!” – in a high pitched dog whistle decibel shriek
c: “Well, I guess it’s time you figure out how to deal with that since you’ll be starting kindergarten soon.”
(lots of crying and yelling and screaming and crying, none of which are by me I must say)

It all escalates into a big 5 year old poo tornado of refusal and mom-calm and protested wiping and more crying and flushing and just overall ridiculousness. It results in her in her room under her bed tent still crying about how she has to stay in her room for quiet time without TV.

I really wanted a stiff drink by this point. I really needed a time out myself. I just can’t continue on the insanity wagon of parenthood solo right now. I’ve had very minimal time away from my wonderful cherubs of sunshine and this is a time I really would have appreciated some peace and quiet.

I had a flash of her as a baby and having to let her cry it out, so we went back in time. I walked away and into my room where I shut my door. Then I went and took a hot shower with the bathroom door shut, and the speaker turned up. I have no idea what was playing on the speaker, but it wasn’t a 5 year old crying about wiping her poopy butt. I settled for this ten minute spa time out for myself and you know what? I haven’t heard a peep from her room since sneaking back down stairs.

Stay tuned for Chapter II : Why Not to Let Them Nap (written around 10pm)

 

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