Day two of my husband being away for business has shaped itself right into, well, let's just say...STICK A FORK IN MY EYE! Today, my oldest son was the first one to catch a ride on the crazy train and, instead of allowing me to smile and wave as he went- he tied me to the side of the train and drug me along the side as he went on and on about how he should probably start taking steroids, because- he's twenty years old and has no desire to look fifteen for the rest of his life. HA! Tell me that shit when you're forty and you look forty, kiddo!
He does this sometimes. It starts off completely innocent and even went as far today to laugh and tell me he mostly does it to get me all worked up and to make me mad. But then...he latches on when I try to tell him how stupid that would be and how dangerous it is- he then tries to explain to me how, although he's not actually planning to do steroids, I have no idea what I'm talking about. What sort proof do I have that steroids have ever actually been linked to someone ending up dead or with any kind of health problems?
His theory is that nobody ever hears anything bad about steroids until someone does something bad and happens to be using steroids, so everyone blames the actions on steroid use. He also informed me, quite confidently that, "this is not 1902 where people are just mindlessly putting stuff into their bodies without knowing the proper way to use it." I must say, I instantly agreed with him. He's right about one thing. It's not 1902, and as a mother, I had to remind him that it is, in fact, 2013, where people are eating bath salts, and seem to be okay with mindlessly putting that into their bodies.
Once my headache set in good, I dropped him off with his brother to play basketball while I took my daughter to get that makeup she so desperately needed and to get some groceries. Just in case you can't sense my level of frustration, let me give you a list of what I ended up with...keep in mind, I wasn't there to grab a couple of things- I needed serious groceries.
Not counting my daughter's makeup...
Shampoo and Conditioner
1 bag of Chicken Nuggets
1 box of Ramen Noodles
1 can of Chicken Noodle Soup
4 Hot Pockets
8 baby red potatoes
1 box of waffles
2 bottles of Dr. Pepper (the real kind-not the usual, Dr. Topper)
If the items in the bag were any indication- we'd be having some sort of soap for dinner. My brain hurt so bad that I had no clue what I wanted to buy. All the time I was supposed to be going over it in my head was already spent discussing steroids. It reminded me of when we first got into the car and as my son grabbed the radio dial I said, "please, just wait, give me a moment." He shot back with, "what's wrong with you that you can't turn on the radio as soon as we get into the car anyway? What is so important on your mind that you can't hear music?" I tried explaining that what I was thinking was:
Where in the hell is the dog? Why has he been gone so long and what will happen to him if I leave without finding him and the little screwball has to stay outside until we return?
What do I need from the grocery store?
Do I have my phone?
Where is my purse? Oh good there it is; did I put my money in there before I carried it out of the house?
Is the guy delivering gravel to our driveway still going to show up today?
If I leave our tiny dog out, and the gravel guy shows up- will he see him and not run him over with the truck?
When is my husband coming home?
Come to think of it, every time he leaves without me, a dog either runs away or gets hit by a car. We only have one dog this time, no spare- so this can't be happening.
What is that thumping? For the love of GOD, PLEASE turn that radio off for one solid minute while I clear my head!!!
That's what's wrong with me. That's what I'm thinking, all at once. And if that's not enough- I'm about to leave two boys together in a public place on a basketball court, that once called the police on each other over a single chicken nugget before I could get home from work after the school bus had dropped them off. Yes- it was a long time ago, yes- they were a lot younger then; but you don't forget that shit easy. It's right there with you as you drive away from them.
Time for bed- my daughter wants me to bring her a towel...right this minute, and thinks I should know that her frog is going to need more water in it's tank. My youngest son wants my daughter to get out of the bathroom so he can shower. My husband is on the phone wanting to speak with me and I don't know what room my oldest son disappeared to, but I know that stupid PS3 is on in the living room unattended, playing the same tune over and over and over!
Oh yeah, and I had a can of Ravioli for breakfast and a snack wrap for lunch/dinner- but clearly, I only think of myself. My daughter just came in here and told me how SHE'S running on three hours of sleep, and I think she was wanting sympathy from me. I can't tell anymore??
These are grown children, people!! And you thought toddlers were assholes...
Enjoy, Barrelassers :)