I don't know why, it has been that kind of week. I am real glad to find myself face to face with Friday. Especially after a long discussion with Guns involving planning a run (long) and drinks and food and hanging out and as always, the benefits of exercise.
The monster, oh my the monster. She has been awful this week. The thing is, she looks so cute being awful that later when I think of her face in my mind, I feel terrible. The main issue, as is often the case these days, has been food. I have woken up earlier, been more creative, discussed at length with the cook, made stuff myself, stretched the eating time so that she is more hungry, yelled, threatened, sweet-talked, lost my temper, felt tired, nearly cried, and everything else in between as well. While all this soap opera soliloquy has been unfolding, she has eaten maybe ONE BITE.
My cook has assured me that I yell at my child too much. She is also telling the child when I am out of ear-shot, look, I am giving you just a little bit of food, your mum gives you too much (NOT. I give her like 10 chocos; of which she takes 2 and keeps in her mouth for the entire day, or something). Although she means well by it, and usually tells me later that she was hoping it would convince her to eat, I get really riled when someone says stuff about me to the monster. I do think its hard enough to respect and appreciate a parent, especially one as irritating as myself, without getting external reinforcements like this, in whatever spirit they may be conveyed. And the monster, who is extremely shrewd as kids are, picks only the parts that are convenient and forms opinions based on that. Meaning, you can sing my praises till the cows come home, and she will distill out the one negative thing you may have said about me, and latch on to that. I am sure she gets it from her dad. Hmph. Not me.
All this going on and a whole lot of travel (for work) coming up next week. Travel which is never just travel but involves serious military-style strategising and what not. And the idiots are refusing to reimburse my car-ride UNLESS I leave at 7:30 am. I cannot leave at 7:30 am because (a) my husband is out of town, as always in such situs and (b) Kid needs to be dropped in school at 8 am and I am darned if you get me to leave before that. Plus, its the tone of the voice, I am annoyed at more than anything else. Gr Gah. But yes, it does not matter. This week has been the kind of week when problems have been solved by the throwing of money at them.
Meaning. The car had to be brought in to service. It was in real bad shape and barely climbing over speed bumps (of which there are about twenty from here to home). The driver had taken Monday off. But that was OK because we still had the car and thankfully, legs, so we drove ourselves. Then on Tues the husband took it in (I swear if I had to be even marginally involved in taking the car into the workshop I would have exploded; or imploded, as the case might be). It was gone for two days. Meanwhile, I did feel as if the same legs, were cut off. I missed my Zen. I called a Call Taxi. SO MANY BAGS to ferry around. And although I am in a campus all day, its HUGE. Its 4 km to the nearest Auto. And I had class at exactly the time the school finished and other such cute coincidences. It was so impossible to manage it all and the Call Taxi thing so damn annoying with the radio blaring nonsense messages all the time and the guy burping like he was going to throw up and the car slightly smelly and the monster licking the nasty Call Taxi seat.
Although it is still making what I think are weird noises, I am super glad to have the car back. Not to mention the driver. Whom my husband suspects of driving on half clutch, and being solely responsible for the ruination of car. Thankfully he has refrained from accusing me of the same, possibly in recognition of my very incandescent mood. At least the man displays some sense, every once in a while. For that I am glad because I really would like to have gotten past the stage where I say stuff I regret deeply later, in language that would NOT make my mother proud.
Anyhow at the end of it (well, almost, there is this afternoon to contend with. The after school thing she goes to on Fridays is on break this week, of course there is a talk I would like to attend at 4 pm), I must say that I have somewhat regained my composure and equilibrium. So BRING IT ON. Just BRING IT ON.