Walls

For whatever reason -- sleep deprivation, hormonal funkity-funk, a perfect storm of anxieties and thoughts and needs crashing together in my head -- I am hitting a wall this week.

I would love to write a witty, articulate post about how I am feeling, but you see, I have hit a wall. So, forgive the brevity that follows. I am due for bed.

My whole house smells like pee. This is a result of a six-year-old boy who refuses to wear a pull-up to bed even though his bladder is not yet ready to make it through the night without wetting. I am so tired of doing extra laundry because of this.

I also have a cat who now refuses to pee inside the litter box. Instead, she lets her hoo-ha hang over the edge and she pees just outside the litter box. I am both baffled and incredibly annoyed by her impressive physical feat. I am really tired of cleaning up extra cat urine.

Nobody -- and I do mean NOBODY -- picks up their clothes in this house. I am completely befuddled as to how to rectify this. Stating that it is unacceptable has not worked. Leaving the clothes there has not worked. Yelling, begging, pleading, cajoling, bribing, rewarding, and punishing? Yeah, not worked. I can walk around the house collecting wet towels, underwear, used pull-ups (if I'm lucky), dirty socks, school clothes, pajama pants, work khakis, you name it... every single day. So glad I am using my college degree this way.

I hate cooking, but I do it because that's kind of the way it goes and it's economical and healthier. And then, once I stumble through making something for dinner, pushing against my own personality and skill grain and frustrated all the while? The children refuse to eat it.

B. is a total threenager and has accumulated an impressive amount of bad habits from his brothers. Bad habits like calling me, his beloved mama, a "stupidhead." And telling me to shut up. He's only newly three, and I really don't think he understands the gravity of the situation, and I have absolutely no idea how to discipline him.

B. snores like a three-piece band. He needs a sleep study and probably an adenoid-ectomy, however that should actually be spelled. I'm worried and overwhelmed by the thought of my first surgery as a mama and I'm worried about him in the meantime, because I don't think he gets good sleep and I listen to him snorting and have ridiculous thoughts about oxygen deprivation and brain damage. Neurotic much? As an added bonus, the snoring wakes B. up almost nightly and I often find a loud, snoring three-year-old in my legs, tangled up with the sheets and his Mickey Mouse doll, at 4 AM. Fun times. Last night, I moved to the couch to escape both the snoring three-year-old and the snoring thirty-five-year old in my bed, and my cat decided to sit on my head and harass me until I would feed her.

At least it wasn't the cat who pees just outside the litter box.

All little, puny, petty things, things I am privileged to be dealing with instead of bigger, scarier, things. But nonetheless, walls. Maybe soon? Straitjackets.