A Long Summer Day

I wasn’t prepared for unhappiness. Arguments, yes. Moods, OK. But unhappiness pervading every fiber of our home? Not.

The day starts with it being too early for a 55 pound child to jump on my sleeping back. Don’t I deserve a nice cuddle? Maybe a kiss? No, it’s jumping time, and sleeping mommy is the trampoline.

We put $200 on our credit card so my son and I could go to the local waterpark during the summer. But he doesn’t want to go. The water is too cold. He doesn’t like the water. So we stay home today. Another day to navigate inside our air conditioned hamster cage while outside it’s 100 degrees.

Big payday on Friday. Had to go to Walmart on Sunday morning to avoid the crowds. We were out of everything, and now I have $12 in my purse. It’s going to be a real juggle to get through this week on $12.

Sundays were a wonderful respite. An hour and a half sitting in a comfortable, cool sanctuary while someone else handled the kiddo. Then, some kind of church phobia set in and now he will not go into his second grade Sunday school class without me. So no church for mom.

Very early mornings. A very grumpy husband who may be laid off any moment because jobs. The economy. He puts his finger to his head and pulls the trigger like a gun. At night, he shows me where he wants me to sink the ice pick into his ear so he can just die and the kiddo and I can collect the life insurance. He thinks it’s funny.

No hope.

I offer the kiddo whole-grain cinnamon toast for breakfast… something different, maybe nutritious for an alternative to the Lucky Charms cereal he has chosen to live on. No, Lucky Charms, mom. So, breakfast at 6:45 am in front of cartoons, maybe mommy can catch a little more sleep.

Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! All day.

Second breakfast at 9 am because Lucky Charms aren’t very filling. Finding the cereal bowl, filling it, filling the milk cup 100 times all day long… Mom! I’m hungry! Mom!

Trying to write because if I don’t write I will go completely insane… with 17 interruptions. The train of thought left the station without me.

Let’s go! I shout, so frustrated I grit my teeth and my voice sounds like a screechy little girl’s voice. I am so powerless in my life today I want to fucking kill somebody. The boy refuses to put on his swim trunks and brush his teeth so we can go to the $200 water park today.

I brush my teeth, and try to pray. Turn this ship around, Jesus, I pray. Help me to turn this ship around. I apologize to the kiddo for being mean and rotten, for having gotten up on the wrong side of the bed today. He forgives me. We resolve to speak kindly. We stay home.

Heat up pizza for lunch, just the way he likes it, carefully rolled up into a “pizza roll-up.” He won’t eat it today. Lucky Charms for lunch.

Video games which make him cry in frustration. Wrestling bouts where my glasses almost get broken 20 times. Reading books about video games that are so boring I want to retch. YouTube videos that probably are not 100% appropriate. Computer games that we pay monthly for and cannot afford to continue doing so, but I don’t have the heart to tell him. Tomorrow. Awful ancient Tom and Jerry cartoons. The Legend of Zelda.

He chases me with giant pillows and throws them at my head. I lie down on the couch. He sits on my head. I screech for him to leave me alone, to give me some space, and then feel guilt for the rest of the day for being the world’s worst mother. I try to concentrate on something. Anything. Facebook. But it’s all garbage and I’m trying to mother my son but my heart isn’t in it and how will I get through this day. I have a glass of wine at 4:00. And another. We’re supposed to have family dinner night together at the table tonight, so I prepare. I make a little plate of cheese and crackers for the kiddo, a veggie burger for me. The hubs pours himself a bowl of Lucky Charms and we sit at the table to screaming because the salad and ranch dressing on my plate are too much for the boy. I gobble it up as quickly as I can. I make new cheese because his cheese is “dry.” I am so grateful he is drinking his orange Gatorade. He does not drink any water, and I know this will help hydrate his little, undernourished, skeletal body.

The hubs stomps into his man cave after dinner, so very upset with me that I would have ranch dressing on my salad. So gross! We’re trying to do a family dinner night at the table twice a week. It’s not going so well.

I rant at God, listing all the things I am so very thankful for. Running water. Food to eat. A beautiful home. 

But. But.

It’s the unhappiness that hurts the most. In spite of all our blessings, we are unhappy. The worry about our future, the financial stress, the awful job that we desperately need so much, the autism bouncing and screeching and breaking our glasses every day, these long summer days never leaving the house, the flintstones vitamins that go uneaten, even though they cost $5.48 a bottle. The chicken mcnuggets that cost $4 but he won’t eat, the French fries mcdonalds forgot to put in the happy meal.

The air conditioning chugs and chugs all day long, but never cools the house enough. The hot, hot summer.