I'll Bet Mama Bunnies Get The Crazies Too, You Know

I have a more-than-sneaking suspicion that this whole single mothering thing really sucks. And that I'm not all that, you know, good at it.

The muscle that has been knotting up in my shoulder approximately 3.5 inches below and 2 inches to the right of my neck every day for the last eternity, feeling like a flaming arrow is worming its way through my sinews and spreading its fire along my nerves, might be a little hint that I am Stressed Out. Not to mention the headache that has lingered just at the edge of my perception, not bad enough for a visit to my friendly pharmaceutical basket, but not leaving either. Oh, and the crazies.

I was really good for most of the day. It helped that my brother let me sleep in by taking my insanely early-morning risers off my hands for breakfast and morning cartoons. Then I spent four hours in the company of a wonderfully sane mommy friend and her cute kids, who helped my kids stay cuter in my eyes than otherwise. Then the kids napped in the car for almost two hours while I drove aimlessly, burning gas and cell phone minutes, until they woke and were ready to head home (so totally worth the gas, by the way). I was a little sad today, what with the whole heading-towards-divorce thing and the grey and weepy skies we've had lately, but it was manageable.

But then the whole supper and bedtime thing came, and before I knew it the Flame From Hell was back in my shoulder and my head was throbbing delicately like a distant marching band warming up. DramaBoy started his dinner of pulled pork well, but then lost interest after eating all the bun and decided to take forty-five frickin' minutes to eat the measly four bites of meat and veggies I decreed he was required to finish before leaving the table. He came upstairs with the last bite still in his mouth, and proceeded to take FIVE MINUTES to chew the (already very tender, mind you) meat, presumably until it was a grey and tasteless mass, then gag while trying to swallow it. All while bouncing on his bed and crashing into the TV, of course. Full motion stubbornness beyond my ken.

(Tangent: Could be worse, I suppose. My cousin Aaron was so stubborn about eating his food that once, when my aunt told him he couldn't get down from the table until he swallowed ONE MOUTHFUL of oatmeal, he sat at the table for a WHOLE HOUR. With the oatmeal IN HIS MOUTH.

I'm amazed he survived his childhood. And that my aunt didn't end up in the loony bin. Or prison.)

Meanwhile, The Widget was indulging in his adoration of all things water by lobbing things in the toilet, flushing the toilet (fortunately without the objects therein), rinsing every object on the sink in endlessly running water, and dunking his own curly mop of hair under the faucet. Yeah, I was around, but he moves really quickly. And sneakily. I'll think he's playing with his froggy next to me and next thing he's putting his froggy's toy watch in the nearest pond. Plus I was letting him brush his teeth all his own self, which is what The Widget wants to do these days. Everything. Himself. No hep you! he cries, which is Widget for Get your hands off me/my toothbrush/my socks/my shoes/my seatbelt/my bib and let me do it my own damn self, Mom! Encourage their sense of independence blah blah blah.

Oh, have I mentioned that his two favorite words these days are No and Why?

I think I should look into that move to Australia again.

I'm so watching more Chuck: Season One tonight, subsidized by my dear wonderfully sane friend mentioned above who lent it to me because stupid Netflix only sent the first disc. Cuz I'm a cheapskate and don't want to spend the extra buckaroonies per month that would allow me to get three out of the four discs all at once. (Though I'm totally checking out the whole instant download to my computer thing. We'll see.) She even tucked it in my bookbag because I was too spazzed to actually take it from her hand as I was leaving her house and panicked fifteen minutes later and texted her all I forgot Chuck! and she was all Check your bookbag and I was all You sneak and she was all you are welcome because she's awesome like that and obviously far more sane even though she has two kids too.

I seriously am dealing surprisingly well (for me, because I'm a wee bit of a nutcase in case you couldn't tell and am in gradual recovery from over two decades of varying shades of depression from pearly grey to deep dark reddish black) with this whole situation. Definitely grace from God there, plus the fact that I've done more healing in the past five months than I ever could have dreamed. Come to think of it, that's grace from God too, not to mention amazing friends and family.

But the crazy creeps in from time to time. Some days more than others.

That grace keeps coming through, though. Even my blog and (sigh) Twitter addictions play a role there. You can thank my new Detroitmommybloggerfriend Melissa for her tweets and blog comments and the email she sent me tonight for my being able to recover some measure of humor tonight instead of dumping some horrific post upon your that would send you screaming for the nearest photo of fluffy baby bunnies to cleanse your thought palate.

I'm sure she's pretty grateful too.

Oh ye gods and massive graces, I think the kids might actually be asleep. I'm hightailing it downstairs to make some Chai tea and watch Chuck before they change their mercurial minds. Peace. Crazy Mama out.