The Circus

Sometimes, I feel like my life is a circus.

Seriously; this is weird, because carny folk scare me.  I shudder if I see a clown.  Ugly little things with their faces hidden.  My older sister was once called ugly in front of a whole circus full of people; in fact they were looking for the ugliest person in the room.  Yep; you guessed it – the tormentor was a clown.  My younger sister caught a cab home from a night out once…  The driver was a clown (not dressed as such, but he stupidly mentioned he worked as a clown).  She made him pull up one street over so he didn’t know where she lived.  Suffice to say, we are coulrophobic.

But here I am, living a life with a Clown and I’m seriously wondering ‘why?’ 

Last week was a damned hard gig.  Harder than usual and there is nothing even remotely simple about ‘usual’.  The Squeeze seems to believe (mistakenly) that those initial negotiations are no longer important nor to be adhered to.  Actually, I think he believes his part in this relationship is to ‘agree’ to them.  Not actually stick to them.  It doesn’t matter what I say or think.

I have other ideas.  I mean didn’t I give him “this is the most I can deal with”..  So if that was my line in the sand; why does he think it no longer exists?   

Last week I dealt with the “no toilet flushing” issue every single day.  It doesn’t matter what I say to this kid.  He ignores me.  It is the same with eating his cereal with a teaspoon…  Ignored.  Then we had the dinner where he couldn’t eat what we were having because “he didn’t understand the flavour combination…”  WTF?  And the Squeeze, pandering to this nonsense, decides to cook two meals – of which I am left to deal with the aftermath – utter devastation to my kitchen.  And of course, Kid 3 did eat a bowl of our meal (actually, he almost inhaled it) – so much for not understanding the “flavour combinations”.

Suffice to say, I am swiftly understanding why this kid’s phone doesn’t ring and his friend count is zero.  In fact, I’m surprised he isn’t coming home from school every night in a rubbish bin (Bart Simpson style).

The more I understand it the firmer the Squeeze’s parent goggles are fitted; and he hates me for it.

So I cling to those sans kid days, like a life raft.  So imagine my surprise today to see a message by the Harridan instructing the Squeeze to pick the kid up today – and his reply was to say no problem.  Ummm  WTF?  Sorry.  This is the weekend. MY time.  The weekend – as per the agreement, is the whole weekend.  He goes to school and comes to us after that…  Tomorrow!  Not a day earlier!

And because I dare to say no… Because it doesn’t make “sense” to the Squeeze; I suffer the silent treatment again.  Difficult, since he only started talking to me yesterday after the girl and I had a healthy debate with the kid re his obnoxious “lack of understanding the food flavours” on Thursday night. 

And as the negotiations and promises are eroded and fall; so does what I feel.  How can it be any other way..?