Thursday, July 10, 2008

Melt Down

Sophie is currently in the middle of a full fledged melt-down.  She's on her top bunk with the covers pulled over her head wailing about how no one likes her, her mom isn't nice, she isn't nice, her life is too hard, etc.

The impetus for this Sophie melt?  I bought the wrong hair clips at Walgreens.

The real story behind the tears?

I have my theories.

The main one is that it is just too, too fucking hot.  So hot.  By 10:00, it's 90 degrees and climbing.  She wants to be outside and run around and go to the park and ride her scooter.  But 1/2 a block down the road the reality of the heat sets in.

Also, she's bored out of her mind.  There is only so much I can do.  We invite friends over.  Go swimming, bowling, do crafts--but ultimately, there are hours to be filled.  We have no yard.  She has no siblings here during the week (and Janz isn't much of a playmate when he is here on the weekends.  What 14 year old boy wants to entertain his spoiled 5 yr old sister) and even an imaginative and resourceful little mind runs out of things to do after weeks an weeks.

A sub-category to the above is that she's bored with me.  And frankly, I'm bored with her too.  Ok.  Let's tell it like it is.  She's driving me bat-shit crazy.  I'm about done meeting the wants/needs/desires/requests/ of my daughter.  Every time I hear "Mama?" "Mom?" "Mommy?" I know that it will be followed with some THING she wants/needs/desires/or is requesting of me.  And guess what?  I don't wanna.  I don't want to get anything down or put anything up or open or close or listen to or watch or do or undo.  Anything.

It's not her fault.  It's not really mine either.  It just is.

So she watches too much TV (well, movies because the satellite is out) and I read too many books (Let's see, this week I've blasted through  The Good Fairies of New York, Gossamer, Dragonbait, Good Omens, and another book of short stories that I can't remember.).  I sometimes reassure myself that back in "olden times" when people couldn't go outdoors, they would sit around and tell stores, and that we're basically just doing that, although our stories are watched and read instead of listened to.  But really I know that's bullshit.
I'd take her up the mountain, but there's always that one thing smack in the middle of the day that prevents it. 

Today it's kid's yoga at 2:30; tomorrow I'm going to work at the jewelry store.

Excuses excuses.

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