ibeachalot's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"This sucks more than anything has ever sucked.\" -Butthead I've had such a shitty day, I don't think I can put into words how shitty is was. But you know me... I'll give it a shot. This entry will be laced with complaints and profanity, so if this offends you, please feel free to The day started out much like any other. Griffin woke me up at 6:20am. We came out to the living room, he had juice, I had coffee, he sat in front of a Wiggles video and I sat here at the computer. Eventually, Kevin and the older boys awoke. We made cinnamon rolls for breakfast and everyone heartily inhaled them. Jameson awoke in a combative mood (he tends to be that way on days that end in "Y") and immediately started in with me. He wanted go outside. I refused to allow it. It was already 89 degrees by 9:00 this morning. We had left the sunscreen in Stephanie's car the other night, so between not having sunscreen and the heat, I felt it best he stay in for the day. He thought otherwise. He resorted to dropping to the floor, kicking, screaming and calling me a "freak". This is a pleasant change of pace from being called "pucker" and "bad muvver" as demonstrated during past fits. Not to be outdone, Evan had himself a little ol' fit, too! He was ballistic that I wouldn't allow him to wear his pajama top all day. Now before you tell me I should pick my battles, let me finish, dammit. Normally, on non~school days, I don't give a baboon's chapped red ass what he wants to wear around the house. But in this case, he had wet the bed last night and his pajama top was wet and reeked of piss. I must be the worst mommy on earth... not allowing my kids to get sunburned, heatstroke and wear clothes drenched with urine. Hand me the Bad Mommy crown, she writes sarcastically. Kevin went out to cut the grass, then went to Target to pick up Evan's medication. I stayed home and gathered the last of the garage sale contents from the basement to the garage. I dread the task of pricing it all. By 1:00pm or so, Jameson was driving me completely out of my mind. I suggested he take a little rest with Mommy. We lay down on my bed and slept for three hours. I heard Kevin outside watering the lawn. I got up and decided to check on Griffin, who had been quiet in his room for several hours. Oh my lord. You wouldn't believe what I found. Griffin was standing in his bed with a goofy grin on his face and ... was covered... . . . from head to toe... . . . ... with shit!! Please tell me I'm not the only one in the world with a child who's a shit~smearer. Should I start a diaryring? Maybe there's a yahoo group. He craps in his diaper, then accesses the crap via the leg openings of his outfit, then decorates with his findings. When he depletes his supply, he reaches in for more. He had it in his hair, ears, neck, fingernails, all up and down his arms and legs and on his face. I couldn't even muster the strength for a scream. I just got a wet washcloth and began cleaning. I had to run two baths for him. So much poop came off of him the first time, that I had to drain the tub, clean it out, then fill the tub with fresh water to finish bathing him. The boy is damn lucky he's so cute or there's no telling what I might have done to him. I got him sparkling clean and dressed, then went to work disinfecting the crib. Afterwards, I cleaned the playroom and got it vacuumed. While I was doing this, Griffin was hard at work... DECORATING MY COFFEE TABLE IN THE SAME MANNER AS HIS CRIB!!! I'm at my wit's end. If something can be done to stop this, I'll be a monkey's uncle if I know what it is. After bath number two (no pun intended) I dressed him in a blanket sleeper and taped the legs of it so he couldn't gain access. I'm as concerned about the excessive shitting as I am his need to be tactile with his production. Help? It's been suggested that I potty train him. I don't think that's the answer. Evan and Jameson were both very slow (and late) to train, so I doubt that Griffin is ready at 23 months. Plus, his inadequate speech skills aren't exactly condusive to the learning process. I think it would only frustrate us both. We gave the kids a quick dinner and decided to treat them to ice cream, not that any of them fucking deserved it. We're getting ready to leave when Kevin noticed grass clippings on one of his shoes. Instead of putting the shoe on inside on my clean carpet, he put it out on the porch. I continued to get the kids ready to leave. Evan and Jameson had the customary fight about which one of them gets to stand by the door, for Chrissakes. After settling that argument, I picked up Griffin and headed out the front door. I had forgotten all about Kevin's shoe and actually, I incorrectly assumed he'd be smart enough to set it aside, out of the way of everyone's path. Wrong. Because I was holding the baby, I couldn't see it. I tripped right over it. I fell down the front stairs and dropped Griffin. Most importantly, he was okay. He has a scrape on his arm, but was otherwise just fine. I twisted both ankles, one as I landed on the shoe and the other as I landed on the walkway. I scraped my knee and bent my left wrist. I lay there, unable to get up, while my brilliant children looked on. My equally brilliant husband was nowhere to be found. I told the boys, "Please go get Daddy." They stared blankly. I said it again, "Please go get Daddy!" Again, nothing. They just stood there with their mouths gaping open. Finally, I screamed, "STOP IMITATING THE NEIGHBOR KIDS AND GO GET DADDY TO HELP ME UP!!!" Finally Kevin peeled his ass off the couch to come and see what the problem was. I let him have it. (This is where that profanity I warned you about makes its entrance) "WHAT HAPPENED WAS THAT SOME STUPID FUCKING IDIOT LEFT HIS STUPID FUCKING SHOE RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STUPID FUCKING PORCH!! I TRIPPED OVER IT AND DROPPED GRIFFIN!!" As he should have, he first cheked to make sure Griffin was okay. Then he proceeded to yell at me for yelling at him. Asshole. I'm lying on the ground, in a bed of dirt and rocks, bleeding, in pain, embarrassed as all hell and most of all PISSED FUCKING OFF and he has the Goddamn fucking nerve to yell at me, the son-of-a-bitch. I told him he'd never let the kids hear the end of it if they did something so incredibly and utterly stupid, but he does it and it isn't his fault. He even tried to blame the kids for it, for fighting about who stands at the door earlier. I guess if they hadn't been fighting, that shoe would've walked itself out of the way. Damn kids. NOT! So I limped to the car, strapped the kids into their seats and sulked the rest of the night. Kevin the asshole, finally decided to apologize for being so stupid and leaving his fucking shoe on the porch where I could trip over it. He even rubbed some Aspercreme on my aiken.. I mean, achin' (sorry - force of habit) ankles. Here it is, midnight, and I can't sleep because I'm in too much pain. I spent the evening sulking and refusing to speak to that man. I entertained the thought of going into the bedroom and bashing a chair or something equally as heavy over Kevin's ankles while he slumbers, but... that wouldn't befit my angelic demeanor, now would it? Why didn't I fill that RX for Zanax my doctor gave me? Oh, I'd still be in pain, but I wouldn't give a fuck. (I can't WAIT to see the Google hits this entry brings!) 11:45 p.m. - 2003-07-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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