Holiday in Hell

Warning- This post is rather ranty and stream of consciousness.  If you don’t enjoy such things, don’t read on…

This past weekend totally kicked… my… ass.

Seriously, I have bunny foot prints on BOTH of my ample butt cheeks.

Friday, I had a dentist appointment for a regular tooth cleaning.  For most people that would be NO BIG DEAL.  Unfortunately, I have a seriously deep seeded fear of dentists.  My 10 year old self had a VERY bad experience at the dentist and I’ve never been able to really get past it.  I think about going to see the dentist and the panic response kicks in.

I went.  I took Valium.  It didn’t do a damn thing for me.  I sat there with the hygienist in my face, fighting off panic attacks.  I DID manage to stave them off, but WOAH, that was a lot of work.

Monday I had to go back for fillings.  This did NOT bode well for Monday, as the sound of a dentist drill makes me hyperventilate and my blood pressure soar but more on THAT later…

The rest of Friday just kinda went down hill from there.  My SIL created drama that sucked everyone into her vortex of moodiness and childish behavior.  My FIL chewed out The Husband about something he didn’t have the facts about.  We went to celebrate a friend’s birthday and got lost… on foot.  We ended up walking 2 large city blocks.  It wasn’t a huge deal for The Husband, but I couldn’t breathe, my back muscles locked up and I was in public, on a sidewalk, crying, because I was having such a difficult time walking  it.  I was totally embarrassed MORTIFIED and angry with myself, so of COURSE I took it out on The Husband and gave him hell the entire way.  The company, fun and food (it was a dinner) were fantastic once we got there and I could breathe again, but that little bit of walking was a small piece of Hell on Earth.

As soon as I post this?  I’m getting on the treadmill.  I FOUND MY MOTIVATION.  It was a seriously crappy way to find it, but I never do anything the easy way.  Sigh.

Saturday was OK.  The Tween and his two younger cousins dyed 7 1/2 dozen boiled eggs.  It was a crazy amount of eggs, but they had a lot of fun.  I managed to take my knitting into the living room and do some knitting therapy though.  At this point, my stomach was in knots, my ulcer was flaring and I was on the verge of tears constantly.

Sunday, everyone was in a crabby mood.  MIL, FIL, The Husband, The Tween, myself… we were all unfit for human contact, and were snapping at one another.  We grilled, my SIL and her family came over and were all crabby.  SIL spent more time asleep on the recliner than awake corralling her children who were melting down.  (Though, The Husband spent a lot of time snoring as well.  Which, yeah, didn’t make me any happier…)  Before the day was over I ended going off on my FIL.  I’m the first one to admit The Tween can be difficult to deal with.  I’m also the first to agree when he’s done something wrong and needs corrected.  However, DO NOT YELL AT MY CHILD FOR SMALL LITTLE PIDDLY SHIT JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE IN A ROTTEN MOOD.  I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT.  I DIDN’T stand for it.  Then, we all went to the movies.  Seriously.

Monday I got drilled by the dentist.  The Valium didn’t work, again.  However, they gave me a set of headphones that I could blast to drown out the sound of the drill and they carried on conversations over my head about their kids and families and Easter celebrations to help distract me.  I got through it without a panic attack, throwing up on the dentist (Oh yes, I’ve done that in the past… ), or dying.

I know it really doesn’t sound all that bad, but I’m all out of sorts.  Nervous, shaky, ulcer screaming, tummy rebelling and totally burned out emotionally.

Today, I’m waiting on a call back from a plumber.  Apparently, the wax seal in the master bathroom broke last night.  Water… everywhere.  Since we keep hearing dripping in the walls/floors when we use certain sinks in the house and neither of us knows how to fix the wax ring, we’re calling in a plumber to do it and have a look see at the dripping thing.

Oh!  And I JUST got off the phone with my Ex-Inlaws.  They want to come in next weekend and visit The Tween.  So we’ll be having guests for a few days…

Holy Crap… Where’s my yarn?

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Tiny Stitches in My Yarn.

Can I just say, 11 year old boys are very strange creatures.  The Tween is a great kid.  He’s smart, funny (though not nearly as funny as he THINKS he is), loving…  HOWEVER, THE MOUTH on that boy.  OMG.  Apparently, in his estimation I am a gibbering idiot who knows NOTHING.  He tries to correct me about EVERYTHING I tell him or argues with me trying to make me see things his way.

My parents are LOVING this.  According to THEM I was quite the precocious kid.   I was very strong willed, stubborn and Mouthy McSpoutofferson.  I don’t remember being this bad.  I’m SURE I wasn’t.

*Shifty Eyes*

WHUT?

I totally remember it differently!

I was a model child.  Sweet, supplicating, and malleable.

I knew I couldn't get through that with a straight face...

Seriously though, I have no clue what to do with him.  I love him to pieces, but SOME days?  SOME days he makes me knit the tiniest of stitches… sigh.