I could not sleep last night. Didn’t even want to get in bed. I was
being very bad, reading a book. Finally, it was after midnight and I forced
myself to try and sleep. Next thing I know, it felt like 5 minutes later, it’s 6 a.m. Aaaargh….
Alesia decided this morning to make me even
more crazy than I already was feeling. She came downstairs in the purple plaid
shorts I am quickly starting to despise and she had on a cheap, tight blue tee shirt
with the words “Wish
You Were Here” on
it in hot pink letters. She got that shirt at Walgreens for $3 and I HATE it
very, very much. So does Mother. However, the therapist says to not tell her
what to wear. So we try to ignore it. SO Alesia has on the evil plaid shorts,
hated blue tee, and a sweater which is grayish tan. Looks like a cute homeless
person.
“Does this
shirt go with these shorts?” she demands, striking a pose.
“No. Get a
different shirt. You need a solid color,” I say, trying to sound neutral.
She runs upstairs and returns with a yellow
tank top, no sweater. It’s not much of an improvement. She asks how I like it.
“Well, it
looks OK. A green, white, or purple shirt would look better,” I respond.
“I don’t HAVE a green shirt that
matches the stripe! Look!” she hollers, showing me the tiny stripe on the
shorts.
“I know you
have a white shirt. Just wear that,” I say, trying to simultaneously cook eggs and pour
coffee, and see what Michael is doing.
I don’t recall the rest of the conversation, but suffice to
say I tried to remain calm, and Alesia got more and more agitated and upset. Finally
I told her to ask Mother. Mother got her calmed down, but she acted like I was
Satan incarnate because I wasn’t wild about the yellow tank top and purple striped
shorts. Mother was concerned about her bra straps showing, but that was not
even on my radar as a concern, since all the girls now think it’s cool to show bra straps. In my
youth it was considered trashy. I still think it looks trashy.
I sent this to Mother this morning. “My nerves are shot after that
incident this morning. She asked my opinion and when I tried to tell her she
started yelling at me. I wasn’t being mean. She kept asking and when I answered
she yelled louder. I didn’t get much sleep last night so I was already
frazzled. I am going to tell her I will no longer give her any opinion on
clothes in the morning, not ever. Her clothes are her problem. I can’t deal
with it. I came real close to telling her to get out of my sight this morning.
It took all my self-control not to lose my temper.
When I went upstairs last night she was in
her room with the light off but I don’t think she was asleep. I think she’s
staying up late reading or playing her Gameboy, and that’s why she’s in a really
foul humor in the mornings. Nothing I can do about it, however.”
We go along for several days and she’s good
and everything is fine, then she turns into the Exorcist Girl.
Michael watched all this, and when there was
a lull and I was trying to get my food and eat, he said, “Excuse me, I’m not complaining, but why are
my eggs runny?”
“I was
distracted this morning. Sorry. If you don’t like your eggs you can eat cereal or waffles.”
“You don’t have to get mad! I wasn’t trying to cause trouble!” he snapped. I wanted to grab
Alesia and go “LOOK!
You’ve made
your normally sweet little brother into a snapping turtle just like you!
Happy?!”
All this happened before I had any caffeine
in my body. It was particularly cruel.
I think they use this torture technique in
the CIA, it’s called
the Loud Teenage Girl With An Attitude First Thing in the Morning, and it’s worse than waterboarding
Tonight after work I had to run several
errands. I told Alesia that if she and Michael got into arguments in the car, I
wouldn’t
take them again. As boring as it is to run errands with mom, they’d rather do that and be with me
than stay home. That’s yet
another way adopted kids are different. Time with Mom trumps everything else.
So Alesia was good right up until the last
errands, which was to get a pizza at Papa John’s. She got witchy while we were waiting because I
told her Elena couldn’t come over immediately after school tomorrow – we
needed a little time to clean up. I don’t think telling Elena to wait a couple of hours before
coming to spent the night was particularly cruel, but Alesia acted like I was
the Wicked Mom of the West. Thereafter, Sarcastic Giggle Girl came out, and
made the rest of the evening periodically unpleasant.
When we got home, Mother was very upset.
Another dear friend of hers, Bud, is in the hospital. He is 92 years old.
However, they have been friends for many years, and he has been very good to
her since my dad died. He lives in North Carolina with his sister, who is
rather slow mentally [don’t know how else to say it], and they will both likely
have to move from their cottage into the nursing home soon. Mother feels
responsible for the sister so we may have to go up there one day soon.
The saddest thing about Bud is that he never
married and had children. We are not related but we are all he has that
remotely resembles “family.”
Mother looked at the children tonight when
she told them about Bud and said “Dee, the best thing you ever did was adopt
your children.” Boy was she ever right. No matter how much they irritate me
sometimes, they are my life. I cannot imagine life being worth anything without
them.
Mother then added, “And when the time comes,
you are going to take care of your mommy, just like she takes care of me?” I
watched both their faces. They nodded without hesitation, eyes wide. Now, I
didn’t adopt them just to take care of me in my old age, but thank goodness we
have a close family. I don’t worry about them sticking me in some faraway
nursing home to die alone.
No, I intend to live long enough to be a
burden to my kids. Fantasizing about it makes their teen years tolerable. LOL
Before I forget, Ree has the most wonderful sounding
pasta recipe over at Pioneer Woman - I really, really want
to make this, sometime soon. Lemony pasta with cheese and sour cream. Can you
say YUM!!
