Diary Entry from one week after Ryan came home from the hospital:
The crisis has passed, and we are now settling into our New Normal of Diabetes Regimen. Ryan is handling everything very well, Alan is back at work, and we have recommenced school. Everything is great. I have nothing to complain about.
I am noticing, however, how very irritating people can be. I can’t really explain this, but in the past few days, people have been so difficult to deal with.
Other people, you understand, not me.
It occurs to me that perhaps what is happening is that a combination of stress, sleep-deprivation and delayed-onset-motherly-freaking-out has begun to bring out in me my Inner Cranky Person. I usually keep her well at bay (unless I lose something, but that only happens once in a while, and is TOTALLY UNDERSTANDABLE).
<Glares left and right just in a case a family member appears to say otherwise>
This week, however, my ICP seems to be making her voice known. I worried about that for a few seconds, until I realized that I was too stressed, sleep-deprived and freaking out to really care, and reasoned that since I know many cranky people who live their daily lives requiring the world to walk on eggshells around them, it is actually possible to be cranky and not have the Entire World Blow Up. Which is what I think, in the back of my mind, I believed would happen if I were to ever be impolite. So apparently, and I don’t remember actually doing this, but the signs are there that I have, apparently I decided at some point that it’s my turn to be cranky.
So here’s how today went:
<Fill this part of the post with errands all over town compounded by drivers being affected by the full moon and the fact that I was running these errands for a family member who was getting ready for a long-awaited trip, on which I was now not able to accompany her, given our current status of Newbie Diabetes Family, but I’m Mom, so I couldn’t act jealous.>
Extrapolate mood after that, factoring in a math lesson, once I got home, that was pretty much like this video:
Also factor in the subsequent realization after this Math Lesson from Hades that I am going to have to enforce a gluten free diet with the child who struggled so much in the math lesson. She had been on one in the past, but we eased her off it. Let’s just say the symptoms have returned. Lack of focus is one of them.
Giving shots is easy compared to policing gluten-freedom. But I so NEED to have something else to do, so why not?
I finally tried to cook dinner, since my last two piano students mercifully stayed away for unknown reasons, (perhaps their guardian angels whispered warnings in their ears?) but we were out of hamburger buns, so I tried to call Alan to ask him to pick some up, but the son-of-a-goat-herder-phone-cord, which is long so that it can reach all over the kitchen, has reached that inextricably tangled state, and rather than calmly working on it while I talked to him, I just pulled as hard as I could on the ends in opposite directions and walked into the kitchen without really even looking to see if that worked, even though I knew darn well that brute force never works with the stupid cord when it is tangled.
And it hadn’t. So I knocked the whole phone on the floor, along with the stuff on the counter, which included my cell phone, which popped open, flinging its battery and cover all over the kitchen floor. Not to mention that the dang phone hung up at some point in all this violence, so I had to call Alan again, so at that point, the conversation went something like this:
Alan: Hello! How are you doing?
Me: Well the phone cord is tangled (still struggling with it) and it just won’t untangle (grunt) no matter what I do (grunt).
Inner Monologue: This stupid cord! Why won’t it untangle? I’ll just pull harder! That’ll show it!
Alan: Oh. (silence while he tries to figure out why I called him to tell him that)
Me: Anyway, what time are you (grunt) coming home?
Inner Monologue: It’s all Alan’s fault. It’s all his fault this thing is tangled like this.
Alan: Um… (silence while he tries to figure out why I am asking him this, since it’s the same every day)… I should be there by 5:30.
Me : (Looking at clock for first time) Oh. It’s only 4:30. (grunt) Oh, I didn’t know it was 4:30. Never mind. I can get the buns myself.
Inner Monologue: I’ll go to Target. Then I can buy buns AND a cordless phone. I’m going to buy some chocolate and junk food too and eat all of it with a glass of wine.
Alan: Okay. Um. What buns?
Me: (realizing I’m beginning to sound crazy) For dinner. Never mind. I can get them myself. I just didn’t know it was 4:30.
Me: My students canceled so…. anyway, I didn’t know it was 4:30. Um…I have to go, bye. (hangs up before she does any further damage)
So I went and bought the ding-dang buns. No junk food, though, because when I got to the store, it inexplicably turned out to be the grocery store instead of Target. And since I had foiled myself on my phone-replacement plan, I became sanctimonious and healthy and rejected all the rest of the promises I made myself over the cheese-whiffing phone cord and bought some nice vegetables instead of the junk food.
After dinner I could have kicked myself for not at least buying chocolate, however, and ate six somewhat stale cookies to make up for it.
And about halfway through the cookies I noticed that everyone had gone to the other end of the house, leaving me by myself, bringing me to the conclusion that embracing my Inner Cranky Person is all well and good, but there is actually a REASON that politeness is a better policy.
It has to do with not eating alone.