As anyone who deals with kids will tell you, there are the good days, the bad days, the half-n-half days, and lastly, the days from hell in which you just want to pull out your own hair, duct tape children to chairs, and veg out on Reese’s cups while reading smutty books and watching any channel that does not contain singing animals or teeny bopper shenanigans. I like to refer to these days as ‘I don’t drink, but spike my coffee with something strong, bartender’ days.
Thankfully, I have not had to deal with surviving one of these days in a while, so I’m over due. I’m hoping today is not the day (yeah, I’m writing this at work. Don’t give me that look. Boy is at school and Girl is doing her morning routine which takes at least half an hour. And no, I‘m not writing this on their computer, I‘m not crazy!) that things get out of control, but its boding to already.
You see, this morning began after a bad, short night’s sleep when Sir Double Kissy Noise, King of the Oven’s sister (I forget if we’ve named her yet. Her real name is Molly, but we’ll refer to her as Fridge Jumper, Warrior and Protector of the Land of House) pounced on me. Add in a nose that won’t work due to allergies and you have the beginning batter of a shitty day cake. Lets hope that the cake never makes it into the oven and that I will have a nice day to share with you. Now let’s talk shit.
When working with kids boldly fluids are a given. This morning I came to work and everything went smooth. Boy was already up and ready to get off to school so there wasn’t much to do for him except pack his bag and make sure his shirt had long sleeves. So off he went to learn and be a super awesome little BAMF.
I did the usual of getting Girl’s clothes into the bathroom upstairs for her so she could get dressed when I woke her and then… Something rancid hit my nose.
At first I thought it was the kitty box, because kitty boxes can get pretty stanky, that would have been an easy fix of just cleaning the box (No big deal, I have cats too!) as well as closing the door and spraying some yummy smelling stuff. But was it? Alas, no, it was not. To my horror, I located the source of the smell after I stepped into the bathroom to get a closer look at the kitty box.
My socks are now in a plastic baggy in my back pack. Thank Merlin for slippers.
The source of the stench was a line of shit making its way from the bathroom and down the hallway. I would just like to say, thank fucking thanks to whomever decided this house needed wood floors instead of carpet! I disinfected the crap out of that crap and then mopped the entire area in which the poopie may have spread. I will never know if it came from a cat or a male child, (more likely the former) but either way it was pretty gross.
This is only one of my shit stories, the other… Is much more horrific.
I got to work at the beginning of fall, school started but still pretty hot outside. The Parental Units warned me that Boy had decided to make a mess in the bathroom (hey, he’s autistic, it happens.) and that it had been cleaned as much as possible between when it happened and having to get ready for work. Okay, no big deal. They’d been up since five scrubbing and scrubbing, at least The Mother Unit had.
Have you ever seen walls speckled with dried diarrhea like a Jackson Pollock painting? I have.
Obviously I wasn’t going to leave it there. That would be unsanitary and honestly, I didn’t want to have to smell it whenever I had to pee. So I rolled up my sleeves, grabbed the fullest, best bleach spray I could find (something that wouldn’t hurt the walls), a roll of paper towels, and a couple tablespoons of courage.
It stank but it wasn’t that bad. Cleaning had been done or it would have been a lot worse. They hadn’t asked me to do it either. But I figured, well, I’m here and it won’t kill me. Here’s hoping it never happens again in a time frame in which I have to see it. Needless to say, when I’m around and Boy is in the bathroom, that door stays cracked and there is a time limit on how long he can be in there without me checking on him.
Good news. I am halfway through the day now and it’s turning out to be a pretty mellow day. Girl is doing well with her schoolwork with very little complaining which means I don’t get frustrated with her (not that I show my frustration, that would just frustrate her). She shall not be gagged and duct taped to the inside wall of the downstairs closet.
We had a rousing game of the Apples to Apples Dice Game we like which is always fun and silly. We lost it when she chose the adjective ‘tastey’ and my noun was babies and the lion’s (you need three players) noun was rabbit. See, I don’t know her word until after she chooses which noun goes best with it and it gets a little crazy. I have hit the stage four of the tired chart, having been up way too early on way too little sleep. Girl understands the stages now as I explained them to her. The first is sleepy, the second is tired, the third is super mega tired, the fourth is the adrenaline kick that causes silliness and craziness, and the fifth is when you are dead to the world.
I have already made the lion talk in my ear and pretended its saying rude things (*gasp!* Lion! That’s not very nice!) and then I sang to it. I have also pretended to be a fish flopping upon the ground dying. It’s a good thing Girl finds my hitting stage four hilarious. She is now practicing her cursive letters as I found out she hasn’t done them ever before and it’s just a skill for signing her signature later in life, but its a nice one to have. She is now explaining to me what each letter looks like and asking if the little a is supposed to look like it has hair and the little p looks like a girl reaching for something. She is very bright and imaginative and having fun copying the letters down which is good because otherwise it would be very boring for her which leads to groaning (outwardly by her, inwardly by me).
I believe we are due for a rousing game of UNO when she finishes, in which we are evenly matched. I love playing UNO with Girl because its good for her to win and gain that pride, but its also great for her to lose. If she gets grumpy about losing, I remind her that I don’t play with kids who get angry about the game. This usually softens her up and she calms down right quick and is slower to anger about losing the next time we play. One time we had a UNO game that went for a full hour and a half, it was epic, but we haven’t played since as there is only so much you can take.
And now, a little bit of cute for you.
A few weeks or so ago, Boy had had a rough night sleeping and so, once we got back from getting him from school he basically conked out in his favorite chair in the living room. So I let him have a little nap, not too long. I tried to wake him up after about half an hour. No go. He was too groggy and just curled right back up in the chair. We repeated this process over the course of the next hour or so, me trying to get him up and him just being glued to the chair. So, eventually, I decided to test exactly how sleepy he was. Because sometimes he’s just being lazy and it takes a while to get him out of the chair and playing. So, I put my hat on his head. If he wasn’t too tired to get up, he would have taken one look at it and chucked it off because he doesn’t like things that aren’t familiar or his. But he didn’t. He looked at the strings with half open eyes and passed back out. So then I had a little boy fast asleep, curled up as little as he could get in a big poofy chair (think cat) with a winter hat on his head. This wasn’t just any winter hat though, oh no. See, my winter hat is a bunny with a face and floppy ears.
This is the part where you go ‘d’aw!’.
So I left it on him for about ten adorable minutes before I removed it, covered him with a blanket, and completely surrendered to a nice long nap time that would possibly screw up his sleeping later. But hey, he was tiiiired! Who am I to deprive a sweet little boy of a nap when he needs one so badly? I’m pretty sure it was a Friday anyway.
Oh, and thank you for the lovely comments, to those of you that did. I do appreciate and enjoy them.