|new old more book profile blog rings host|
To a psychologist, I might say I'm having antagonistic feelings toward my children. To you I say: These kids are pissing me off big time.
Felony's bathing suit has been missing for a week now. This wouldn't be such a big deal if she weren't taking swim lessons every day. She cobbled together a replacement suit out of two viciously mismatched pieces (a swim tank and a pair of those girls' pseudo-surfer trunks, which prompted her swim teacher to ask, "Why don't you take off your shorts?"), and now even that abomination is missing. Yesterday, on the way out the door, I snarled at her to "just wear that red leotard" she got on the dance team last year, even though I know it has a hole in the back. So today, I order her another four or five times to look for her bathing suit, and what does she do? She asks me where the !@#$%^&! red leotard is, and puts that on. She also orders Criminy to remove her bathing suit, so she can wear it. (Criminy's lesson is just after Felony's.) Then when Criminy won't, Felony whines loudly and dramatically ("But Mawwwwwwwm!) and flops onto the bed. Anything but look for the fucking bathing suit.
This has been going on for days.
There is more, but it's time to drive to the pool.