I Totally Lost My Shit

So I’m human right? I have thumbs and all and am typing on my laptop. I don’t live in a tree either. Very, very human. I also hear that being vulnerable is good for the soul, so I’m going to share my “ugly” with you.

I totally lost my shit on my son yesterday. He started it though. As I write that, I realize that I started it. I want to share so other people with kids that have different brains (or not!) can know that being human and doing human stuff is so OK.

With all the other super human things I attempt to accomplish in a day, I now have a strong desire to add exercising to my schedule. I feel heavy. I felt heavy right in that very moment. And so I kinda’ freaked out and had this spontaneous NEED to get a treadmill . . . RIGHT THEN. I had already announced that we weren’t leaving the house that evening, and by golly, words and commitments are SO important to OCD people. Not just OCD people, for sure, because my younger son was a bit rattled as well.

And to set the stage further, we were also hungry. This was just after our two-week vacation, and I still had not gone grocery shopping.

Michael said, “Chick-fil-A.” I said all the stuff about how we’re not eating at Chick-fil-A because of the profit thing (they support efforts that discriminate against same sex marriages). Then he freaked out because that was where he was totally going to get his dinner and there’s not too much negotiation when something is stuck in his mind. I agreed that we would eat at Chick-fil-A. So he starts whining and crying about how he feels guilty about eating at Chick-fil-A, but that’s where he has to eat. I tried to explain (because I was still pretty calm at this point) how a $4.00 meal wasn’t going to make much difference at all, so it was totally OK to have Chick-fil-A this one time.

He was still whiny, and I was still saying things like, “I know this is out of the ordinary, but I really want to go tonight. I’m grateful we can.” We get in the car to go. There’s road work, so the traffic is backed up to the ying-yang. I’m not sure where the ying-yang is, but it’s BACK somewhere, not moving forward . . . at any rate.

He was still whining and crying and I was trapped in this car, while he was threatening that we either go to Chick-fil-A or we get a treadmill, but we are NOT doing both.

And so, y’all, I lost my shit. I screamed so loud both my kids started crying. Mason just covered his ears and was in for another bout of PTSD when I screamed. And I didn’t scream “I LOVE YOU!” either. There were F-bombs and Shut Ups all over the place. When I got done with my crazy, Michael sniveled and said, “You could have just asked my nicely.”

And I said to that kid, “How many times, Michael? Huh? How many times do I have to ask you nicely before you actually stop crying and threatening things? Because if I recall correctly, I asked you at least four times.” Youch, right?

Oh, it turned out OK. I don’t lose my shit almost ever. It’s just, why couldn’t he hear me saying all the things about “flexibility” and “I have needs too” and “I’ll get you any dinner you want tonight” and “what do you need to make this happen?” He couldn’t hear me, so I screamed at the top of my very healthy lungs that he needed to stop. He heard me then and reminded me “to ask him nicely.” Uh, OK.

I did end up with a treadmill. There were two that were in my price range (ten-year-old versions). The sales lady said, “This is the old lady treadmill. It has maybe two features and starts out around $800. You don’t want this one.”

She took me to the next one, and I giggled and asked her, “Is this the single-mom-mid-life-crisis model?” She laughed and gave me an additional $40 discount. Score.

And Michael and Mason got dinner. They got some sour sports gum, which they had never had before, and they each got to pick out a ball. Michael got a hackeysack ball and Mason got a lacrosse ball. We went home tired and content and together and intact. Mostly.