Monday, January 25, 2010
You are REALLY getting on my nerve
Okay, I'm one post behind so I must write this one to keep my New Years resolution. What do I write about when I can't think of anything to write about. What happens in this situation is I am left with whatever is on my mind. In other words... my feelings. Jesus, Christ, help us all.
I have three daughters. My oldest Jennifer has grown out of her 'my mother gets on my last nerve' stage. Thank god. My other two, have not. So it doesn't matter what I say, I will drive one of them to the brink.
Is it me? Is it the tone of my voice or the pitch of my voice or the words that I'm saying? Is it my outfit? Is it the weather? What is the problem?
This is how I look at it. When mommy had to bail you out of jail, I drove down to the pissed stained tank and took you away from there, buttercup. I have pulled one of you out of a crack den at the risk of being shot, but my pumpkin was in there so a mommy does what she has to do. Never mind that your dog is shitting all over my house and eating all my furniture. And you know, you snuck a cat in the house without my knowledge, hid it from me and because I'm allergic to cats, I spent weeks thinking I had a brain tumor because my eyes were swollen shut. "What's wrong with me? Why are my eyes swollen shut?"
"I don't know mom. Maybe you should go... outside."
I'm not going to worry about the fact that I say good morning and you grunt. I'm not going to worry about the fact that I say any words and your response is, "Mom! Stop!" When I actually don't even know what I said right then. Remembering back, I think it was something really antagonistic like, "How's it going?" I am actually beginning to flinch when you are in the room. My beautiful angels, now possessed by something scary. I say, "I love you sweetie." This is always met with something to the effect of, "God, Mom! I know already!" Is it that I said 'sweetie'?
And sometimes, I don't even have to say anything. Sometimes, it's simply me breathing, in and out, that hurls them over the edge. They way I'm sitting on the couch. The way I walk. The way I laugh. The way I drink out of a cup.
Just now I had to dress and put my mother to bed. Every single thing she does drives me over the fucking edge of the universe. She says, "It's cold in here." And I'm thinking, is that your last complaint for the day. Good god I hope so.
And now I think, oh my god. I will always grate up their spine. One day they will be tucking me in to bed thinking please don't use anymore random words today. I can not answer one more crazy question. Go. To. Sleep.
From now on, I will only call them by their first names. No, sweet pet names. I'm going to cut back on the words like, "Your hair looks great." Or, "I love those jeans." You know, all the fight starters. We need to communicate without speaking. Just nod here and there until they grow out of the 'my mother drives me crazy' stage. I know they love me, it's not about love. It's about me, opening my mouth for any reason to say anything at any point. Love has nothing to do with it. And by the way, you kids are not getting on my final nerve at all. Living with you is like living at Disneyland. I'm having the time of my life. Fucking kids.
(I'm caught up now... na-na-na-na)
Posted by Dina Kucera at 7:16 PM