It’s just another manic Monday

Posted: February 8, 2010 in Batteries Not Included

I was originally going to title this post “Joe Vs. the Volcano” – you’ll see why in a little bit.

Today, Monday, was one of those hectic days.  MrE didn’t get enough sleep last night (silly boy stayed up past his bedtime reading The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes), and apparently was a grump this afternoon.  Of course, this afternoon had to be one of those days when I stayed at church until 7pm, which doesn’t help things on the home front.  I called home at 6pm, asking A to go ahead and eat first with the kids (secretly wishing that they’d already eaten, because MrE kind of loses it if he doesn’t eat by 5:30pm).

Anyways, I got home, and things were not ok at home.  A and Ziggy had eaten dinner already, but MrE was being grumpy, saying that he didn’t want to eat until next week, that he will just starve.  Of course, I start getting frustrated, wondering why it is that when I get home after a long day, I have to help clean up this mess. Of course, I was not being the usual loving husband who would’ve understood that A has been dealing with Mr. Grump all afternoon and that a little help from me would have been nice. Well, no, I did try to help. I made sure MrE got some food into his system, then proceeded to ask him how things all fell apart.  And that’s when things really fell apart.

It turned out that he was getting frustrated with his math homework and took it out on A, but the way he relayed the story, he was having trouble with his homework but A wouldn’t help him with it.  So I try the gentle approach and try to help him with the problem he was stuck on.  Now, if I had any brains, I would’ve understood that he’s tired and on his last legs, running on fumes, burning the midnight oil, and whatever other applicable cliche you can think of, and I should’ve just gotten him ready for bed.  But instead, I plowed right into “teaching” him the math problem. Of course, he was in no condition to work on math at this point, but I kept on keeping on, and pretty soon, he’s having another meltdown.  I end up getting frustrated, but try to just ignore him. But when he said “noboby loves me” (or maybe it was “I don’t love anyone”) I blew my top, smashed one of the snowman bowls into smithereens, told him to go into his room, followed him in, and gave him a piece of my mind at the top of my lungs.  Actually it felt like two and a half pieces.

Which leads to the volcano imagery.  Imagine a 30+ year old dad, towering over a scared 1st grader in his bed, raging and fuming.  MrE got so scared that he actually started blubbering incoherently, and was not able to articulate his thoughts. The last coherent thing he said was that he needed some alone time to rest, but I was too far gone and kept pushing (I was telling him he needed to apologize to A). I think he was hyperventilating, too.

Looking back at my history with MrE, I would definitely not nominate myself for any Dad of the Year awards. And I really need to learn how to be more merciful.

Some days I feel like Freddie Mercury sang in Bohemian Rhapsody – sometimes I wish I’d never been born at all. Would’ve saved a lot of people a lot of pain and heartache. But then that’s just selfish thinking, isn’t it?

And the title of the post – it’s a song from the Bangles.  I used to totally have a crush on the redhead bassist.  Looking back at my younger days, I think I must’ve had a thing for redheads. Which might explain my attachment to the SWR Redhead bass amp. Sorry, geeky music gear talk.

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Comments
  1. woozymom says:

    7-5=?

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