Thursday, September 18, 2003

I Give Up

Crazy day -- I've got someone breathing down my neck in a mildly threatening way, someone who, in spite of having completely screwed me over, has the balls to be pissed off and indignant at ME even though I haven't done anything wrong. I still haven't closed the deal with the potential client. I spent the entire day waiting for a fax that never came. I'm all wound up. So, I figure, dinner out is in order. We all need a trip to the Shady Grove, right? Chicken fried steak, RIGHT? What could possibly go wrong?

Jack had a melt down before we even got started, something to do with Sprite and his menu and whatever. He refused to order and started throwing things. Brian scooped him up and out of there just as the salad was arriving, leaving me with Eli and Javi. They were gone for what seemed like 20 minutes or so -- I finished my salad, the steak came, the baby fussed a bit, Eli picked at his sandwich. When they finally got back, Jack was in the same exact mood he'd been in when he left. So I took him outside, we sat down and talked it out. He was finally feeling ready to come in to the restaurant and sit down and order soon as we get back, Brian's getting up to leave. It's Thursday night -- he works Thursday nights. This had somehow escaped us both until that very moment, when he was already 1/2 hour late. So off goes Brian. I am now alone in a restaurant with 3 kids and it's late. I try to eat. Eli is done. We are waiting for the burger. The baby is letting out piercing shrieks, tropical bird style, and getting lots of irritated looks. My attempts to stuff things in his mouth and shut him up are thwarted. Shriek. Shriek. Burger comes, but it's time to go. We ask for the check and a to go box. Both come. I open my wallet to debit card. No cash. No checks. Nothing. So now I'm on the brink of tears. The waitress is a peach and says don't worry about it, and the manager comes over and says the same thing, so I'm feeling better about life if a little worried about my debit card. I pick up the baby and discover the reason for the shrieking. The reason is now all over my hand, wrist, sleeve. I put the whole mess of him in the stroller. Wipe my hand with the second-to-last remaining wipe. We head out into the night. I practically throw myself on a woman in the parking lot with a baby and a diaper bag, and she gives me all of her wipes. Set up a changing station in the van. I have no diaper. So I hose him off, throw all the dirty clothes/towels/etc. into a pile, and wrap a cloth diaper around him and pull his pants up. Of course, he was soaked by the time he got home, but I managed to clean him off pretty well, get him into a REAL diaper and up to bed. Read the boys a story and tucked them in. And now it's time to fall into bed myself and then get up in the morning and do it all over again.

I just want a normal freakin' life. I want a job I can depend on. I want to live, all of us, together, in one house, in one centralized location. I want school and work and life and home to all be within something like a 7-10 mile radius. I want one day to go by, just one, where I feel calm and happy and capable and OK from the beginning to the end. I don't need to be ecstatic or anything, just OK. OK for a day. I want my kids to do the same -- to make it through a day without the sudden and unexpected outbursts of anger or frustration or whatever it is. I want the dog to stop scratching. I want my carpets vacuumed. I want time in the morning to get up and take a shower and get dressed and make coffee and eat a normal breakfast and get my kids up and fed and out the door without it being a huge ordeal.

I'm tired.

And sorry. I don't usually do the journal/rant thing, but there it is. I have nothing else to say right now.

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