Category Archives: difficult kids

We’re Making Plans For Nigel

 

At some point I’m going to get a phone call from various defunct 80’s bands demanding some sort of restitution for all the titles I’ve stolen after a morning listening to Sirius XM’s First Wave.

I like to use the drive back from drop off to think about what needs to be done during the day and to formulate a plan of attack for whatever bizarre circumstances or unforseen disasters will fall in my lap thanks to my smallest child.

You see, despite the best laid plans and extensive help from all the most expensive professionals he still has some issues that prevent him from being ready for prime time.

Like the Saturday Night Live players but with less parody and more physical pratfalls.

So here I am, the grown up, struggling to hack my way through the thick brush surrounding the path back to normality for this kid.

Never have I been so confounded by another human being.

I lie in wait for the ramifications of each decision I’ve made on his behalf  dreading the large casualty laden explosion that is clearly imminent. Nothing is clear-cut and never have the stakes been so high.

Imagine if laid before you are a deck of a thousand cards and you must pick five or six to determine the path that someone takes at various important crossroads in their life.

Now take a look at the possible outcomes.

Steven Hawking or the Unibomber.

Churchill or Mussolini.

Yes, perhaps I’m exaggerating his potential but his propensity for extremes is legendary and being in his service for these long five years has taken its toll on the staff here.

It would be accurate to say we live in fear.

Fear of the next step.

Fear that the wrong choice will cause everything to go up in flames (don’t laugh, it’s happened)

Usually I have these things set up far in advance of the actual decision-making event but I happen to be in the middle of a long period of wait and see fence-sitting that’s really starting to hurt my ass.

And so, as I perch here and think about making plans for Nigel I’m still frozen with doubt and remorse over things I’ve not even done yet.

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Filed under adhd, am I doing anything right?, average is so much easier, bad parenting, behavior problems in kids, better skills, boys with serious attitude, can I have a normal day, crazy ramblings, delinquints, difficult child, difficult kids, discipline, failure, fight or flight response, foul language in preschool, four year old love, getting it together, here we go, I have 3, I have HOW many kids?, I'm not as effective in a bad situation as I thought I would be, I'm all over the map, il duce is five, It's embarassing when you suck at something, keep the expectations low okay?, kids, kids and parenting, kids that don't fit the mold, kids that like cursewords, kids with warped minds, kindergarten options

The Horrifying Incident Involving the Boy, His Mouth, a 44 Minute Wait on Line, The Word Vagina and Fifty Scandalized, Hungry Patrons

Hey, remember me?

Super freewheeling summertime girl with the wind in her hair, not a care in the world and the family that looked like it jumped off the J. Crew end of summer catalog?

 Yeah, well she shriveled up into a ball and fucking vaporized in a puff of smoke this evening while trying to exert what little parental authority she was still clinging to during a mortifying incident at the jam-packed Friendship Heights Chipotle.

The scene opens with a sun-kissed, seemingly relaxed mother and her cute tanned energetic child engaging in playful banter  and games to bide the time at the end of a very long slow-moving line.

Area power outages have taken out the restaurant computer system and they seem to be processing transactions on some sort of Fred Flintstone rock and chisel credit card contraption.

Mother: Sam, get off the ledge, you might fall.

Sam: This line is long and I’m going to cut it. Let’s walk up there and just give the stupid order. This is terrible AND boring.

Mother: I know, but all these people are waiting just like us so that’s not fair.

Sam: Life is not fair. You say that to your kids all the time so I’m saying it to you now. (sing songy voice) Gonna drive my steamroller over all these stupid people and make them flat, then I’m gonna walk right over them and get my rice, la, la, la…

Mother: Sam! That’s not nice. Stop.

Sam: (under breath) It’s what we really need to do. Make pancake people and less line.

Fifteen more agonizing minutes pass with the levels of buffoonery increasing exponentially.

Mother: (sensing danger) Sam, you want me to pick you up?

Sam: (smiling) sure!

Sam: Hey, I can see your boobs from up here!

Mother: Okay, it’s time for me to put you down now.

Sam: (now rolling on the concrete floor and swatting at the bottom of his mothers sundress) Hey! I can see your vagina if I lift up your dress right?  Gavan taught me that girls penises are called vaginas! You have a vagina (then looking around and pointing to the surrounding women) and you have one, and you too. All ladies do!

Mother smashes her hand over Sam’s mouth

Sam: HEY! mrphh, machina, shtop, I CNTBREAFFFF!!!!!!!!

Mother: Shut it or you will NOT get a Mr. Pibb you fucking deviant animal, hiss.

Mother: (to employee) yea, I’d like three chicken…

Sam: VAGINAS!!!!

Mother: Burritos and one..

Sam: Lady vaginas! We want lady vagina on our burritos.

Mother: (covering Sam’s mouth with the iron force of a thousand livid parents) Just give me four burritos!

Employee:(quizzical look, cartoon question mark over head) burritos?

Mother: YES! Four of them, please hurry for the love of Christ!

Sam: (tearing at his mother’s fingers) pah chinas!!!!!

Mother: throwing cash at the checkout girl) QUICKLY! These four and a small Dr. Pibb.

Sam: Mr. Pibb doesn’t have a vagina cause he’s a boy and he’s got a penis. Mom, don’t you wish you could pee standing up?

Mother: no.

Defeated, she leaves the Chipotle with her head hanging in shame and her small son singing a remarkably catchy song about penises and why they are much more fun than vaginas.

Fade to black, end scene.

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Filed under Adventure, adversity, am I doing anything right?, bad parenting, buffoonery, can I have a normal day, delinquints, difficult kids, disasters

Notes From The Open Road

This would have been less blurry if that rude person hadn't knocked into me trying to get to the fireworks.

Because, I’m sorry but what kind of lunatic WOULDN’T want to be confined in a car for sixteen straight hours with three kids and my MOTHER along for the ride?

Right?

You’d have to be certifiable not to want a piece of this fucking action.

My husband is kicking himself right about now for missing such an opportunity.

I wrote these words moments before taking off on the Disney extravaganza, and then neglected to follow through in any way, shape or form.

In reality, I destroyed the car trip down in under 13 hours with nary a complaint and barely a peep out of my mother OR my kids.  There were no hijinks or shenanigans that called for punishment or crazy road stories that were worthy of the archives. Just pure unadulterated fast-moving thrills, spills and chills under blue skies and the watchful eye of the mouse.

Since my kool-aid has yet to wear off ,I’ll refrain from posting until I can examine my trip with a little distance and clarity to provide unbiased coverage of all things vacation related, but for the most part no complaints.

If I had to pick a favorite moment though, it would have to be when Il Duce called the Ewok at Star Wars weekends an asshole after he left his picture-taking and autograph post without seeing close to 100 kids that had stood on line in the blistering heat to meet him. I was bracing myself for the crying jags and disappointed sobs of everyone else  when he turned to me with the most frightening calm dead pan and uttered “what a fucking asshole, he just LEFT and now all these babies are going to start crying and hurting my head.”

He cheered himself up later by whacking a clone trooper in the ass with his blaster though. That was one for the photo album.

Notice the culprit in blue sneaking up behind the unsuspecting clone. Ass whacking took place moments afterward.

So now I’m on 36 hours with no sleep after an all night drive home marathon and a couple of 3 am bathroom breaks in  Deliverance territory that were a little sketchy but were are alive and well. Now I am in  need of a long luxurious nap.

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Filed under difficult kids, disasters, Disneyworld on crack, I drove to disney and no one got killed

I Have a Secret Affliction!

So much to do, so little time.

The bags are sitting next to the door, packed until they were practically bursting, they are threatening to  open up and spill their contents all over the floor.  Gee, I hope that doesn’t happen because soon I will be singing the Interstate Love Song and flying down route 95 south to visit the mouse.

I won't listen to them Mickey. You and Walt have my heart.

That’s right ladies and gentlemen, I am making my traditional trek to Disneyworld with three hopped up super excited children in tow. Most of my highbrow friends think that feeding the maw of the mighty fascist machinery behind the happiest place on earth is galling.

Not me. I’m shallow, immature, and naive so this is a match made in heaven.

While I’m getting a lecture about how I could have used that money to go to Paris the only thing I can hear is a thousand demented  tiny multicultural dolls singing “It’s a small word” and subsequently whispering in my ear “Don’t listen to them, just go to Epcot where they have fake Paris, Germany, Mexico AND china!

Then their eyes start to glow and they break into this chant “One of us!One of us!” but I digress

So you get the point, I’m a total Disney sucker.

Overcharge me, hassle me, make me stand of long lines in the tropical heat. Make me feel good once and I’ll love you forever.

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Filed under difficult kids, disasters, disneyworld, road trip

You’ve Got Another Thing Coming

Il Duce at the farm. See the weapon?

Yesterday I needed a momentary break from my service to the emperor. Doing his bidding all day every day can really wear on a person so after re-fixing his chocolate milk three times to get it just right and head off that epic screaming fit that we all could have suffered through, I sat down to catch up on some blog reading. I’ve got a list of fantastic mommy bloggers who I follow regularly because, well, I guess we have at least our reproductive abilities in common. God, it’s depressing though. After scrolling through all these upbeat, inventive tales of their funny and sweet children with the love they have for them coming across in every word they type I just got cranky. Especially one gal who posted an angelic pic of her smiling tot with goodness that just emanated from every pore in the child’s body.

Then I look at Il Duce. Every photo I have of him he’s either sneering, giving me the finger or brandishing a weapon. This filthy little animal has ruined nearly every family photo I’ve tried to take in the last two years. Not even his make-believe games come close to normal. Last night I heard him using his Diego plastic marsupials in a jungle adventure, except he kept calling them “sex monkeys” and putting them in jail for kissing. What the fuck does that mean? Don’t even start pointing the finger at me, because the phrase “sex monkeys” has never passed my lips. Even my ten-year old was scandalized.
We got his weirdly inconclusive test results back from the world-renowned three thousand dollars a pop Neuro/Psycho/Edu testing dude and he’s all like “what a funny kid! He’s super smart but not so good at being told what to do huh?” Yes, super expensive rip off artist, I could have pooled the collective resources of every  idiot who’s ever come in contact with him and come up with a more comprehensive plan of action than scratching my head and suggesting meds if he doesn’t calm down in a few years. Better yet, I’m gonna steal those meds and help myself to a big heap of mother’s little helper during the afternoons when it’s too crazy to deal with here. Okay?
Uggg. So anyway, I’m off to chauffeur Palpatine to his next engagement that takes place right after his school day ends. Let’s hope he’s not suffering from his usual fit of distemper and all goes smoothly. But realistically, probably not.

He got along REALLY well with the goats. Must be the horns.

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Filed under 1, bad parenting, boys with serious attitude, busy days, difficult child, difficult kids, discipline, education, foul language in preschool, kids, kids and parenting, kids that like cursewords, kids with potty mouth, kindergarten options, mothers, my kid the scapegoat, odd behavior, parenting, things to do today, things we shouldn't be thrilled by

The Rise and Fall of Il Duce

You just wait until I can talk.

You just wait until I can talk.

 

No, no, no, not again…….

After a particularly grueling evening of bed time shenanigans all I needed was one incident free day to recharge my batteries but alas, it was not to be. No sooner had I dropped my youngest into his classroom than I was dragged into a conference room to discuss the “options” we were considering for kindergarten next year.  Suggestions, including several schools for the criminally insane, were offered up to help steer us in the right direction. They were trying to make it as clear as possible that my kid was not cut out for traditional education. I sat quietly and listened again to some of the same things I’ve heard for years.  Too active, contrarian, bad temper, bad language, threatening to kill anyone who annoys or doesn’t listen to him, blah, blah, blah, blah. Our family have lived  life under fascist rule for four years now, these guys can’t even handle two months of oppressive dictatorship- man up people!

Honestly guys, I get it. He’s either a hopeless sociopath heading for an epic crime spree or to a third world country where he can stage a coup and rule with an iron fist for fifty years. Sheesh, give a parent some hope would you?

What about his bizarre sense of humor? Or his infectious laugh? The fact that he is wonderfully smart and loves hugs and kisses, that’s got to count for something.  He feels things far more deeply than my other two and is adept at noticing even the slightest change in your mood. Too bad most of his good qualities are lost on most people who meet him. He’s difficult and sometimes impossible to teach so I will obligingly see another in what promises to be a long line of psychological professionals and who knows? Maybe someone out there has an answer  or even an effective method. It sure can’t hurt to try.

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Filed under difficult child, difficult kids, foul language in preschool, giving up, kids and parenting, kids with potty mouth, kindergarten options