I had a crap day yesterday.
It started with the realization that we forgot to do Declan’s homework. Again. This is particularly crappy after I convinced Declan’s teacher to extend the homework deadline to Monday to help us working parents out. So us working parents can’t even get our shit together to do 4 worksheets of homework when we have a full week to do it. Awesome.
And then we have Declan working on it in the morning before school – building excellent study habits – and when I go out to check on him, instead of working on said homework, he is sitting on the floor, playing with the dog. After we have talked about that. Several times. Loudly.
Then work was a whirlwind of trying to get a myriad of shit done before the sub-PTA meeting being held at our house last night, the only highlight of the day being when my new iMac arrived, which of course, in the whirlwind, both Bryan and I forgot to bring this shiny new iMac home – so thus it sits… all lonely and encased in cardboard, at my office, in the dark.
And just as I was about to rush out the door to our PTA meeting, with many last minute items in hand, finished just in time for the PTA meeting (see where Declan gets it?), the phone rings. It is my endocrinologist, my diabetes doctor, with my recent lab results. I know things are not good when I can hear her screaming before I even get the handset to my ear. I hear my new HA1C number and go numb. It’s the highest it’s ever been, the first time I have ever even approached a danger zone, and NO WONDER I have been feeling like absolute shit lately. I sit back down feebly in my chair, on the verge of tears, and we discuss this new course of action… get off my ass and exercise more, check my blood sugars more, think about adding a new medication to the mix. That last one kills me. I have always prided myself on being mildly Type II diabetic. Mildly. If I take two medications, I certainly won’t be mildly Type II anymore, will I?
I kind of shuffle out of the office and down to my car, drive home in a daze and arrive at my house to see several people gathered on my lawn for the PTA meeting. Interesting.
I invite them in behind me to find a sweating Bryan trotting out of the house with a bag of trash. Apparently Poe, our dog with a very sensitive stomach of late, decided to have diarrhea all over the kitchen right before the meeting. All. over. the. kitchen.
Then on to the joy of PTA. Granted a sub-set of PTA for a specific event that I love, but still people talking over each other, politics, herding cats. Yadda yadda yadda.
And, then – POOF! They were gone. All except my friend Sarah, who is a saint and stayed to clean up the kitchen with Bryan.
This is when we realized Declan had not eaten a scrap of dinner. The hungry pathetic look he gave us was by far better than Antonio Banderas’ cat in Shrek. More awesome parent guilt. We ate. We chatted. It was 8:30. We started to relax. We noticed Declan’s hands and face were blue.
“What’s that blue on your hands, buddy?”
“Oh. I was drawing downstairs.”
This fact is important because when Bryan went to go close up the garage, he noticed that someone – guess who – had been into the spraypaint, and had sprayed it on several pieces of wood and toys in the garage.
Spraypaint, for the love of Pete.
This kid is 6 years old.
Yeah yeah yeah, kids are kids and they do stupid shit. In fact, I know my mom is going to call me up with a bunch of “remember whens” in about 5 minutes… but the big problem here is DO YOU REMEMBER SHARPIE NIGHT???
The funny thing is, in his warped little 6.5 year old mind, he did not understand how the two were related.
Aimee: “We are even more disappointed because you did this AGAIN after we have talked about it many, many times.”
Declan: “What do you mean? I have never played with spraypaint before.”
Aimee: “Did you steal sharpies from my desk?”
Aimee: “Well, you stole spraypaint from Dad’s garage.”
Aimee: “Did you write with permanent Sharpies all over furniture and toys?”
Aimee: “Well, you sprayed permanent paint on Dad’s wood and on toys in the garage.”
Aimee: “Did you lie about what you did with the Sharpies when you got caught?”
Aimee: “Well, YOU LIED ABOUT THE SPRAYPAINT.”
We haven’t decided yet what his punishment will be but I am really really really considering selling him on eBay.
Or at least renting.