Onion Skin

I thought I would be a lot tougher than this because, a kid is only a kid. Kids don't really know a lot about social graces or other people's feelings. It's our job to show them. My kid, though, can really hurt my feelings. Last night, I made a special carrot soup for him (at his request- I searched for a bland recipe-as the kid doesn't like "flavor"- and bought a blender for the task) and he took one look at it and started screaming. He wouldn't even taste it because he wanted it to be watery like the soup in "The Witches". So he dumped a glass of water in it and stewed in his disappointment. This morning he asked me to help him cut out these pictures of the Scooby-Doo gang and they were all standing in front of each other so there were no "full bodies" to cut out. I did the best I could and he hauled off and smacked me for not doing it right.

I blew my stack because this has been going on all week. I arrange things for him, make special things for him and he acts like a spoiled flipping brat. So I have instituted some new rules and told him that I was hurt and angry and did not plan on doing these kinds of things for him anymore. Not until he could show some appreciation. Then I sat down and burst into big heaving sobs. I howled.

I only saw my Mom cry once, growing up. It was after she had read my diary and discovered that I thought my life was a miserable piece of shit. The fact that she didn't keep her usual stout hearted Scandanavian composure was enough to make me feel like I had ripped her heart our of her chest, but she actually shed tears! That was a huge event in my young life. I was kind of hoping to save the "You're killing your mother!" guilt trip for later in life. No. More poor kid has an emotional wreck for a momma. I am an unqualified disaster!

Oh well. The show must go on. Here goes Thursday.