One of the hardest things for me to do is to admit when I have a problem. The hardest problem for me to admit is when I have an attitude problem, which I finally copped to having while I was getting my MRI done this morning. It's been a work in progress since I hurt my knee and by last night it became pretty obvious to everyone that has the pleasure of living with me that I'm a wee bit bitchy these last few days. I don't know who I think I'm fooling when someone asks me what's wrong and I practically spit out a very venomous "nothing" as a response. I'm not even trying to buy my own bullshit so I should probably just stop trying to sell it to everyone else. Yikes.
Allow me to walk you through some of my more shining moments since Sean got home Monday morning, and when I'm done, go hug your wives/husbands and children/parents and be grateful that none of you have had to put up with me. For real.
Sean came home Monday morning and Midge pretty much talked his ear off from the minute he walked in the door. She does this all the time. She thinks with her mouth and I swear every single thought that crosses her mind immediately spills out of her mouth. The child lacks a filter. My exhausted and jetlagged husband's patience wore a tiny bit thin with her constant barrage of words and at that point, my patience ran a little bit thin with him. He's been gone for 9 days and hasn't had to listen to this says my bitchy inner voice. A tiny bit of irrational rage bubbled up inside me and showed little regard for the fact that he travelled 18,000 miles in 9 days for a job that supports this family. I'm actually most embarrassed about this little confession more than anything.
Last night I hobbled around the kitchen making bacon, sausage and French toast for dinner. Banana was at work and Red was asleep on the couch. The sight of the napping teenager boiled my blood. It's really no different than any other school day. She keeps shitty hours for herself, staying up later than she should on Tumblr or clicking "Like" on those ridiculous "Truth is?" posts on Facebook. She's exhausted by the time she gets home from school and naps before dinner. Whatever. Most days I'm over it but seeing her stretched out on my couch made me want to poke her with my crutch until she fell on the floor. She is doing pretty well in school so what the fuck does it matter to me that she naps after school? Jealous much?!
Still twitching from the napping child, we sat down for dinner. About 3 minutes into the meal, the dog went to the family room and puked all over the floor. Nobody stirred to get up to clean it, at which point I almost lost my fucking mind. I grumbled, pushed myself away from the table and looked over to the paper towel rack, which of course was empty. I lumbered and skulked in my brace out to the cold garage to get another roll only to discover when I got there that we were out of paper towels. I'm pretty sure everyone could smell the venom spewing from me as I found an old towel and cleaned up the warm, sloppy mess. It should have occurred to me that it could have sat on the laminate for 10 minutes so we could finish eating before someone cleaned it up. Nobody in their right mind wants to clean vomit mid-meal. I certainly didn't.
Fast forward to this morning before I left for my MRI. Sean went to work at 4:30 this morning because his internal clock is still on the fritz but he called me before I left. He asked how my morning went, as he always does. I pissed and moaned about Banana staying home from school. I was righteously indignant when I relayed to him that Red called me out for being in a bad mood after I wandered into the family room and announced to Midge and Bean that if they didn't clean their shit off my coffee table I would throw it in the garbage. This is when he tried to ask me what was bothering me. When I told him that nothing was bothering me he pointed out that it was a little weird of me to get up from the table to get the plate of French toast for myself last night even after he offered to pass it to me. Yes, I really did that. I was so frustrated that no shit, I started to cry, before I got off the phone to go to my appointment. I don't think he heard me but if he reads this, he'll know. I am a crybaby.
The MRI wasn't so bad. It was an open MRI so I didn't get claustrophobic and I even got to pick music to listen to during the procedure. I opted for Matchbox Twenty and I sang along in my head while the machine knocked away. At that point, laying on the table, it hit me. I am seriously freaked the fuck out over this knee thing. I work 7 days a week and I don't have the luxury of sitting at a desk to make money. I'm on my feet or I don't get paid. I'm supposed to sign Midge and Bean up for camp soon. Red wants a haircut and has been invited to go back to Guatemala with her best friend this summer. Banana is deciding what schools to apply to and has brought up campus visits. None of this shit is cheap. I've been off my feet since Friday and my well-oiled hustle machine has come to a grinding halt and I haven't made a single fucking dollar in 5 days. God help me if I have to stay off this leg much longer because I think my family might kill me if I decide to pick one more fight with them so I have someplace to throw all my displaced anger and anxiety. To say I've been a little cunty would be a gross understatement.
I came home from my appointment and decided I needed to blow off some steam. Normally I would consume mass amounts of caffeine and clean. It's therapeutic. The brace is a hindrance in how well I get around and sucks for the increase in bathroom trips the caffeine gives me (seriously, if you guys think breaking the seal at the bar is bad, you should drink as much Monster as I do). I had to do a little modifying. I threw on my earbuds once I located them and belted out some live Pearl Jam. I didn't even give a shit that I'm sure Banana was upstairs laughing at me channeling Eddie Vedder at the top of my lungs. It was cathartic. I've got a pumpkin pie in the oven as my mea culpa, and a can of aerosol whipped cream in the fridge to drive home the point that yes, I've been a total douche and I'm sorry. I've apologized to Bean, Midge and Banana. Bean and Midge said it was ok and after Banana gave me some well-deserved guilt trip, she forgave me too. Three down, two to go.
Wish me luck.
Hold on a sec, and I say this as another "can't-sit-the-fuck-down-have-to-be-productive-all-the-time" personality, I'm pretty sure you were justified in your shitty attitude. Stuffing our feelings and doing what needs to be done is a coping mechanism. One that doesn't always work, but you had a lot to deal with at the time. Good for you for recognizing it and doing something about it, but don't beat yourself up over it. Hope the knee is feeling MUCH better by now and things are back on track.
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