Not one but TWO crazy children!

So yesterday I told you that Diva went all batshit and set fire to her bedroom. Well, to a small pile of trash in her bedroom. The more I think about it, though, the more it disturbs me. She easily could have caught the whole house on fire. I don't need that shit.

Today at school she told a guidance counselor that she tried to kill herself yesterday by setting herself on fire. Seriously? I don't think that's exactly what happened. She didn't burn herself. The fires? (she also lit one in our fire pit in the back yard) Maybe just a means of expression. I don't really know. Anyway, I got a call from the guidance office that I needed to come pick her up and take her to the emergency room because of this threat of self harm. I picked her up, indeed, but took her to the department of mental health office to talk to her therapist. Much cheaper than an ER visit. I've taken her to the ER three times within the last year for that reason, and she's never serious about the threat. It's attention seeking behavior. We had a brief conference at the school before I took her. In attendance were two people from guidance and the school resource officer, plus me and our service coordinator who just happened to be here to meet with me when all this shit went down. Diva admitted to the group of us that she did not intend to hurt or kill herself.

So we left, Diva, me, and the service coordinator, and motored to the Dept. of Mental Health offices where Diva condescended to actually communicate with her therapist. They had a lovely talk and Diva was all sweetness and light afterward. WTF. I took her back to school.

That whole exercise took 2.5 hours out of my morning. I barely had time to get a bean burrito from Taco Bell on the way to the doctor's office for my 1:00 appointment. The doctor checked his handiwork on my belly (from the hernia surgery three weeks ago) and said all looks good, I can do whatever I please. Well, that's nice.

I got home from the doctor's office and headed for the shower. Didn't have a chance to get one this morning before being called to the school. Checked my phone as I was disrobing, as I'd turned the sound down in the doctor's office. Lo and Behold there was a missed call and voice mail from the 9th grade assistant principal. This time the call concerns Sproing, who got into a fight during lunch and is now suspended for six days. Please come pick him up now. And you know, I had just begun to feel a little bit better after the escapades of this morning. So instead of taking a shower, I drove back to the high school to nab Sproing. I am not amused. He is not humbled by the experience. I told him he is in trouble, and he says he isn't. Dude. It's not your decision as to whether or not you are in trouble. You choose your behavior, Daddy and I decide what consequences result from that behavior. He doesn't get it. Superman had to come home and apply the belt to his backside a couple of times to rearrange the boy's thought process.

I did finally get my shower. I'm now in Superman's old night shirt, sitting on the bed telling you all about my mess. And I've had an Ativan. Frankly I don't feel much better. Maybe not as frantic as I was, but I am still shaky and emotionally fragile. Have only had 1 mg, am going to take one more. Then perhaps I'll take a nap. I like naps.

This information might come in handy some day

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Don't look at me in that tone of voice! You know you want to know, too. Go ahead, click the linky link.

I'm getting better...

I think. I thought so yesterday, but when I got home from work everything fell apart. Work was busy and stressful yesterday and I was able to hold it together very well all day long. But as soon as I saw Superman it was as if the pressure valve suddenly released, and I went all psycho-bitch on his ass. It surprised the hell out of me! I had no idea where the vituperation was coming from. I'm not typically like that with him.

This is what started it. I was the last one home yesterday, so the other two cars were already in the driveway. C's car was parked beside the garage and the van was in front of the garage. (Of course we don't keep cars in the garage as there is no room. You should know me well enough by now to have figured that out.) There isn't a whole lot of room in front of the garage, though it is wide enough for 2 cars. But each car has to stay on its own side in order for the third car, the one parked beside the garage, to get out if necessary. The van was not over far enough for me to fit my truck beside it. It made me boiling mad. Which is stupid; it's not that big a deal really. But I wasn't in my right mind.

I called Superman from my cell phone while stopped in the middle of the street in front of the house. I fussed, told him to move the damn van. He came out and pulled completely out of the driveway. I just wanted him to back up far enough to scoot over. That made me more mad. He drove in, I backed in beside him. (I prefer backing my vehicle into a parking spot when possible.) He came up to my door and asked if I'd had a bad day. I glared at him and growled "Back away slowly." As soon as I saw him, as soon as he said something nice to me, I let down my guard. I wasn't even aware that I had my guard up! I was immediately sorry that I'd growled at him, but he had gone back inside by then. I felt horrible all over again (see Sunday's post) and got all teary.

I was afraid that I was about to go into freak-out mode: uncontrollable crying, rapid breathing, inability to speak. C knows how to handle me when I get like that. He helps talk me down and I trust him. Those freak-out sessions scare the crap out of my darling husband, which just makes me even more upset. So I said I wanted to talk to C. He and I went back to my room and started talking. S and Superman kept walking in, derailing my fragile sense of continuity. The last time Superman came in he said he was on his way to get milk, did I want anything. Without thinking, without guarding my words, I said "Yes! I want to be left alone!" Oh, shit. He beat a hasty retreat. As soon as he was gone I said to C "Oops. I didn't mean it that way. Do you think he's mad?"

He was mad.

I can be frustrating to live with. I annoy him sometimes, but never on purpose. He gets exasperated with me. But he almost never gets really mad at me. Last night he was really mad at me. Understandable. I had been incredibly ugly to him. I was sharing my frustrations with C, shutting my husband out completely. None of this was intentional. It's as if everything I said to him came out wrong. I tried to explain and ended up making more of a mess.

When Superman got back from the store I sent C away and focused once again on trying to communicate what I was REALLY feeling with my darling husband. He came in and said he wanted to talk to me, so shut up and listen. I shut up and listened. Everything he said, all the frustrations that have been building for the last few weeks, he was accurate about. I've been hard to deal with, I haven't been much help around the house or with the children. Everything he said was true. After asking permission to speak [ :-) ] I was finally able to say what I meant to say earlier. I corrected him on some misconceptions he had about my words and actions, but mostly agreed with him that I've been a bitch. I apologized, of course. Hell, I'd been apologizing all evening.

Then he held me and I told him all about it, all the stuff I'd been telling C. I intended all along to tell him all that stuff, I just wanted to talk to C first so I'd be less frightening when I talked to Superman. We talked, I had a good cry (not the scary cry) and he comforted me. It took about an hour of talking and hugging and crying before we were all better. I was emotionally exhausted! He was, too. I slept well.

Superman and I don't really fight. We disagree often, but most of the time we have no anger toward each other in our differences of opinion. Last night he was angry at me. I was angry at me, too, but not at him. What I just described is typical of our fights. We don't raise our voices when we argue and we usually come to a peace fairly quickly. I don't hold grudges, hardly ever with most everybody and certainly not Superman. I don't have the energy for that foolishness!

So I think I'm feeling better today. I know Superman and I are both feeling better about each other. I'm about to go back to work now. We'll see tonight if I'm still sane or if I'm back to channelling the psycho-bitch from Hell.