ibeachalot's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh how Anita Vacation! Hmmmm... interesting. Yesterday I conducted a bit of an experiment and chose not to take my medication. Would you believe yesterday was my first headache~free day in months? I haven't taken any today, either, but I may take a half~dose in a bit just to ward off the sickening side effects that occur when going off an anti~depressant too quickly. If there were any day I should have had a headache, it would have been yesterday. Marc came over to start on some of the yard work. Evan was preparing to throw a big fat rage when Marc showed up. Luckily, it passed and Evan was well enough behaved to go outside and play. Jameson however, picked up where Evan left off and made the next three hours a lving hell for me (and Marc and anyone else within a two mile earshot) "I JUAN GO OWSIDE!!!! I JUAN GO OWSIDE!!!! I JUAN GO OWSIDE!!!! (I'm thinking I should have named him Juan) NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!!!!!!! YOU PUCKER!!!!! (pucker is what he calls me when he's really pissed off. Not sure what I should do about this. Do I scold him because it sounds enough like the real thing? Do I ignore it? Or do I say, "No, Juan. The word is 'fucker'. Mommy is a 'fucker', not a 'pucker'. Any thoughts?) After awhile, he switched gears and threw the "GO TO THE MAILBOX AND GET ME A _____ TOY" tantrum. Jameson, a true child of the times, thinks that when he wants something, which is every two seconds of every day, all I have to do is point, click, have credit card ready and then we go to the mailbox to retrieve it. He doesn't seem to realize (or care) there's more involved. Feel free to fill in that blank above with any toy you can think of, because that's what he asked for yesterday during this three hour fit ~ every toy he could think of. Then Marc came to the door with a question. Jameson snuck out from under my legs and proceeded to run down the side yard to the waiting street below. I called for him to come back and he said, "NO, YOU PUCKER!" I went as far into the muddy side yard as I could with sock feet before I threatened to ground him from playing out on the deck (his new favorite thing to do) the rest of the day. What I wanted to was threaten to knock him into next week, but after all... I did have an audience. Finally, I went and retrieved him before he jumped in the path of oncoming traffic. (After this embarrassing episode, I wanted to throw him into the path of oncoming traffic. I brought him in, blushed despairingly at Marc, who has a perfect child, and took my screaming four year old into the house where he A) got his ass whacked and B) received the news of his impending grounding Bring on the next fit... "I JUAN PLAY ON THE DECK!!!! MY DECKY!! I LOVE MY DECKY!! (I bet that sounded interesting through the open windows) PWEEEEEEASWE WE GO TO THE DECKY!!!! PWEEEEASEE! NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!!!! YOU PUCKER!!" You're all either thinking: A) poor Linda, how the hell does she deal with that shit? B) Juan.. er, Jameson needs help ~FAST!! or C) It's funny as long as it isn't my kid! The correct answer is D ~ all of the above. I wonder how or why I deal with this shit, as well. I also think this would be hilarious if I read about some other poor soul having to deal with it. Finally... I agree that Jameson needs help. I think he needs to see a neurologist, but something keeps stopping me. I guess I'm hoping he'll outgrow all of this. All of this falling to pieces if the letter of the day on Sesame Street is X instead of Q. Screaming at me because the sky is blue, not purple... things like that. It isn't normal and I know that. I guess I'm in denial. Two mentally ill chidren is more than I can handle right now. Eight more days until my trip and I can get away from it all for nine days. I desperately need it. I'm scared to death how Matt and Stephanie will handle it all, but I almost don't care. That's how desperately I need to get away for some peace and quiet. My trip will consist of the following activities: Saturday morning: fly into LAX, where my mom and dad will pick me up, we'll drive down to Orange County, have lunch, then go to their house to chill for awhile. Saturday afternoon/evening: shop, shop, go to dinner and shop. Saturday night: watch Trading Spaces-a-thon Sunday morning: go to breakfast, then take dad's car to LAX to pick up Kevin (driving my dad's Mercedes will seem weird after drivng my Envoy! I wish I could take my car with me!) Sunday afternoon: Kevin and I go to the valley to see his and my old houses, old friends and just do some "sight" (*cough*sputter*choke*) seeing. Eat at Cupid's for lunch!! Drive to Oxnard, check into the condo, unpack go to grocery store for food Sunday evening: go to dinner, see a friend of Kevin's he insists we see Monday and Tuesday: do miscellaneous shit, eat, sit in jacuzzi, walk on beach, shop, swim, shop and eat, watch Clay sing to me and only me on AI Tuesday night Wednesday: go to breakfast, take Kevin back to LAX to fly home, drive back through Valley, meet Deena and Heather, have lunch. Drive back to Oxnard, pick up mom at the train station, go back to condo, unpack and relax, watch Clay progress to the next round on AI on Wednesday night Thursday through Saturday: walk the outlet malls, eat like pigs, shop til we drop, walk on the beach and sleep! Meet up with Larry, Debbie B and Jeanne. Avoid having to see Kirk, Debbie L and Angel Sunday morning: hopefully have brunch at Lobster Trap unless the rumors of them closing are true! Boo~hoo! Drive to LAX where Dad will meet us in Mom's car, I fly home, they take their own cars home. Monday: I'm happy to see my boys again, but I spend all day crying that my wonderful trip is over. Oh man, this is getting long. I'll end it here. Linda, 36 year old, married Clay Aiken fan! (Google bait!) 3:39 p.m. - 2003-03-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||