Friday, June 18, 2010

Where did I put my brain?

  I swear it was around here somewhere. I see the telltale signs of it having been here like the remaining stem and basal structures that seem to keep my heart beating and lungs inhaling. But the rest...those "higher brain functions"...what the heck happened? I am still reviewing for the GRE and it seems that, while I am accomplishing much, I am merely reminding myself of how much has been forgotten. Maybe not forgotten, but permanently locked away in some deep, dark hole never to be accessed again without serious poking and prodding. So, poke, poke, poke...I am working my fingers to the proverbial nub trying to make sure I expose my unweildy nut to things long lost.

  I'll tell you, though, the actual testing conditions will be positively blissful! Like a vacation! I look so forward to it that I may take the test twice just to enjoy the time to myself. I can't even imagine the silence! Really, I can't. Squib is, well, very four. Much hollering and crashing and constantly "needing" (I am hoping this self-insufficient phase will PASS). The two octogenarians are dearly loved, but are quite frankly a constant source of humor. They spend most of their time wandering about and forgetting (not their fault). But they are always having to get "things" straight again--like how to "work stuff" (email, gtalk, the Internet--darn thing just doesn't ever work, the VCR and DVD players and how to switch between them and the washing machine--which has decided to take a walk now and then). Then they are scheduling this, that, and the other without regard to much of anything else so it all must be done several times and sometimes all over again when they realize the two drivers (of which I am one) also have other committments. Of course there is the endless question of where did Squib put this or that??!!?? He didn't actually put anything anywhere, but they have lost it and, "How dare he!" (and the like) Add communications between the deaf and quasi-deaf population (there are one and two-halves of those)(deaf people, that is). Side note: these deaf people are LOUD but don't actually know it. Combine this "normal" family mess with the day-to-day family "work" (laundry, dishes, chores) and then with the actual work going on (yes, there is an office, but no one is really using it despite my threat to turn it in to my personal apartment--I will be moving in on Monday) and this place quickly becomes a CIRCUS with at least four overlapping rings in which the only way to hear yourself think is to scream your thoughts at yourself (hence all the capitalization--it's like I'm from Jersey).


  Insanity!! I give up on a regular basis. At least five times an hour, but usually I recommit myself to my goals a little more often than that, so I'm ok. Poor Squib does bear the brunt of things. I did almost try to tear his head off, but his sheer cuteness saved him and then when I crawl in bed every night and see him passed out and curled up in sleep each evening, the slate seems to wipe itself clean.

  I did, however, make an interesting and shocking discovery today. I was talking to Mimi about a friend whose son developed cancer and Squib, with his usual lack of aplomb, came up to interrupt us with something soooooo important that his tail end was just almost literally on fire. I asked him to wait. He errupted and lost his mind. I said "Fine. Wait for me in the chair....we are going to have a time out."

  Like, the first one EVER. We use other things. A variety, really, because I think time out chairs are pointless. At least, they always were for me and my sibling and for Beanstalk, so....they are new to Squib.

  You would have thought I had skinned him alive, strapped him naked to the hood of my car and left him to bake in the sun from all the screaming!!! REALLY!! All I asked was for one minute (literally 60 seconds) of silence in the air conditioned cool of the living room in the padded safety of the recliner in which he had no less than SIX TOYS!!!!! And he was screaming like I had bashed his teeth in. I thought he had hurt himself. Really, I did. And when I ascertained he had not, I started thinking about school and the impending doom of time-outs to come (cause they seem to use that a lot at least in Beanstalk's school environment) and thought, "Oh, crap." Lucky teacher. So, perhaps we shall have to practice this time-out thing so's he don't slip a psychological gasket from actually having to take like a real "two-minute, hard-surface chair time out" or whatever the hard core time-outers do. God forbid they stick him in a corner or write his name on a board. His heart may stop. And that was one expensive heart. Would he actually make the entire walk to the principal's office? Without screaming?

  Maybe I should tell them he had a heart defect. And that a little pop on the rear doesn't seem to alter his psyche, but the chair....oh, GOD....NOT the CHAIR!!!!!!

  I even sat in it afterward and checked it for tacks, nails, electrification, snakes, spiders, and anything else that might be creepy, crawly, biting, stinging, or otherwise painful. Nope, nuthin'. Still..."No, mommy, don't make me sit here I'll be quiet if I get down I promise I'll be a good boy really I won't say anything I can be quiet I can be quiet I can be quiet I can be quiet I can be quiet I can be quiet I can be quiet I can be quiet really I promise don't make me sit herreeerreerrereerererrrreee....etc." Me: (in my head) "What is the MATTER with him?"

  Ok, now I'm starting to clue in as to what happened to my brain.

  Still, DISCLAIMER: Despite today's events, children are amazing and totally worth having. Usually, they are pretty creative and interesting, but ALWAYS they are masters at pressing your buttons. This particular one (Squib) was born to drive me nuts, but he is also my baby. The cutest, most lovable human alive. Mostly. We spent a large part of the day working "together." He worked on his train book that he is illustrating and writing with help from me and I did some work and studied (by turns). It is very easy for a single episode of non-silence to eclipse the entire day--especially when it is accompanied by a ground zero freak-out. Those are a sight to behold, but I have to admit that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I have my moments. Hopefully, he learns to adapt quicker and better than I did. Hopefully. Hopefully tomorrow is better than today. Hopefully.

At least he wasn't prancing around the house screaming "Dang it, butthead!" (Please see the "Dang it, butthead entry here for context.)



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