Let me paint you a picture (and no – don’t go getting all excited, this is NOT a Poopcasso adventure. There will be no painting with poo. Use your imaginary paint).
Kaleb gets home from school and is immediately arguing with himself. Terrific. This is not a good sign. See – if you try real hard you can see me standing in the kitchen staring at the cabinet that holds the container of cupcakes counting to ten under my breath.
Now, Mason has speech therapy. Thankfully, he’s happy today, and this is not a repeat of last week’s scream-a-thon. However, while Mason is behaving in therapy, Kaleb is in his room building some village with his Lego’s – and arguing with himself.
Therapy ends – all is good. Or is it? Where did Mason go? Oh, he’s looking at his fish. Okay, we’re good. I get halfway through the living room and Kaleb (who came out to play about ten minutes earlier) goes flying past me whining, grunting, and yelling at himself. Oh jeez. He held it too long. Now he is going to scream the ENTIRE time he pees. I turn around to follow him, just as I hear THE scream. The high-pitched, in-.04-seconds-I’m-going-to-barrel-roll-someone scream. I take off toward the sound, just as I hear him shriek
“NOOOOOOO Mason! Don’t touch!! No! You’re ruin it!! Noooooo!”
Here we go.
I run into Kaleb’s room, to find Mason holding part of a Lego car, tears streaming down his face, building up to an earth shattering scream. While Kaleb, who had managed to get his pants half off on the way to the bathroom, is rolling on the floor, screaming, holding the other part of the Lego car (who was the king who used to cut things in half again? Oh. Solomon. Right).
So, here’s Kaleb, on the floor of a room that was clean three days ago, surrounded by scattered Lego’s, pants around his ankles, screaming like a banshee at Mason. And here’s Mason, finally letting out the screams of the century, crying hysterically clutching the little Lego wheels in his hand.
Well crap. Mason is in trouble because he knows better than to be in Kaleb’s room – it always amounts to this. Kaleb is in trouble for flying off the handle because Mason broke a rule. And touched his Lego’s. And now the car is broken. Basically, they cancel each other out and now I have to suffer the fallout. At least Mase is unhurt and unscathed. In the five seconds it took me to get down the hallway that could have been a lot worse. So I am left to deduce that Kaleb ripped away the car and dropped to the ground – ’cause it’s not like either one of them is about to actually tell me what happened.
Get the pieces from Mason, put them on the table, pick him up, step over Kaleb and carry him out before Kaleb comes back to some of his senses and goes after Mase for real. Set Mason on the couch where he proceeds to scream and cry for ten minutes. Go check on Kaleb, debate intervening – my currently unbrusied face thinks that’s a bad idea. He rolls around holding the remains of the car (which are falling apart because of his grip by the second) kicking and screaming for ten minutes. *Insert visual image* Kaleb’s pants are still around his ankles, and all the kicking has done nothing but further entangle him. So add in some extra oomph to the kicking because now he’s got himself caught in a fishing net of jeans.* Until he remembers he has to pee – then it’s five minutes of a whole different kind of screaming and crying.
Finally, it stops. It’s quiet. Too quiet. Oops. Spoke too soon. Kaleb comes out to the living room, where I’m sitting with Mason looking at a book. He proceeds to drop to the ground (again), and start screaming (again). This time because his legs hurt. You THINK??? This is the third time in thirty minutes you’ve dropped your sixty pounds onto those knobby knees. You’re darn tootin’ they’re going to hurt!
For the next thirty minutes I (and the entire neighborhood) listen to him scream, shriek, and whine – all at the same time – because his legs hurt. Won’t tell me why. Won’t tell me what part of his legs. Finally, I’ve had enough.
“Kaleb, get up. We’re going to the gas station.”
Stops. Sits up. Sniffs. Wipes his face. Looks at me.
“Can I have gummy bears?”
“WHAT?! No. You cannot have gummy bears!”
~~> insert new meltdown here. Ten minutes later…
“I’m serious. Get up. Right. Now. We. Are. Going.”
Why?? Because mommy is out of cigarettes and she’s pretty sure her blood pressure just reached dangerous levels. Because at least in the car I can roll the windows down and drown out some of the screaming. Because I’m your mother and I said so.
So… we go to the gas station.
And the entire way there, he’s playing with his new cash register (oh thank you Sho-Sho. In case you were wondering – that’s what I was calling about earlier). But he isn’t actually playing with it. Instead, he’s just hitting the same, high-pitched button over and over again.
We get to the store, grab what I need, get back in the car and head for home.
Beep Beep Beep!
Beep Beep Beep Beep!
The faster he pushes this button, the faster my heart rate increases. Until…
Oh my. Is this it? Did I just flatline? Am I dead right now?
Nope. Not dead. That’s a good thing – right? Right. Definitely.
Please. Someone. Just… punch me.
Get home. Get dinner ready. Feed the Monsters dinner. Rather – spend thirty minutes making a dinner Mason feeds to the dog, and Kaleb deems ‘yucky’ without even knowing what it is. Well. The dog had a good meal. Play with Mason. Kaleb starts screaming. Help Kaleb. Mason starts screaming.
Bed. Go to bed. Go to bed right now. Right now.
Mommy’s infamous patience has officially worn out. I’m going to bed. As soon as I’m done drawing up the plans for the velcro wall Daddy and I are going to install in the house. We will get the kids matching suits to wear under their clothes. Then we can just place them on the wall. And wear our invisible noise cancelling headphones. While I go play in Neverland. Because I am all done being a grown up today.
Oh shut it.