Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Mr. Furious

That was who Spenser was last night. Le sigh.

All it took to get him raging, really raging, was telling him it was bed time. Such.An.Utter.Pain.

He was being put to bed early, 7:30, because he had had such a shitty day, all because he was up way too late the previous evening. He was so tired, he had dark, dark circles under his eyes. He looked horrid.

So of course he decided to fight me on this. it is not a pleasant thing to have to man handle this almost 100 pound child into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then to his bedroom to get him to bed. And by not pleasant I mean, really not pleasant. So I got the normal treatment from him.

What is that?

The biting, my upper arm, although he didn't leave marks this time.

The kicking, again no marks this time.

The slapping, Just annoying.

The punching. In the stomach. Pretty freakin hard.

It took everything in me not to haul off and do it right back to him. I did however yell at him, which I am not happy that I did. And I spanked him. Once. Which was totally pointless. I basically lost it with him, more so then I have in a long time. I just wanted him to stop and be quiet.

Then I had to separate the adult bipolar wonder and the child bipolar wonder. Rob had come in to try to "help".

Only it doesn't help. He gets angry with the irrationality that possesses the child. He ends up saying things I know he doesn't mean, and they both push each other to the breaking point. Not amusing.

I ended up yelling at both of them. Yelled at Rob to leave the fucking room, didn't use the f word though. Yelled at Spenser to be quiet.

Finally at 8, his normal bed time, he shut up and got in bed, and rolled over. He started to cry, but by that point I could no longer be sympathetic, and I told him as much.

One of the worst parts is that if I spank him, he will run his mouth about it being abuse. Seriously.

I don't spank his bare bottom. Hell I don't even use a paddle. I use the palm of my hand to the flat of his ass. Yet he convinces himself it is abuse.

Makes for nerve wracking times, because I am sure one day he will be pissed at me and use that exact phrase at school. I can hardly wait for that fun.

He also told me I used too many drugs!!!! I about crapped a golden brick. Seriously.

I asked what drugs. He said pain pills. I have not had "pain pills" since the shingles of 06, January of 06.

I had a muscle relaxer a couple months ago for my back, but that was only a week. I tried to explain this to him, and then he said, well for your knee pain.

Again, no narcotics are used. I made sure to point out that I used an anti-inflammatory, but that was about like taking ibuprofen. he then said that was my problem.

A 7 year old.

Telling his mother she abuses him and drugs.

Do you know how fucking ridiculous that is? I could have crapped it was and is so preposterous.

I am thinking this is only the beginning of "fun with mental illness in the form of a 7 year old". I can hardly wait until he gets older so I can what horrible things I have and do do.

Ayi, yi, yi.

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