Settling in but still unsettled.
May 15, 2006Yesterday we went to a nursery. To buy babies! I made that joke to, oh, eight people yesterday. “Get it? Babies? Nursery? Ho!” No one laughed. I am surrounded by jerks.
Anyway, yeah, we bought plants and stuff. Unfortunately, I have absolutely no idea how not to kill plants. On the other hand, I am excellent at killing them. Here’s my method.
1. Bring a plant into my house.
2. Attempt to care for it. You’re supposed to water them, right?
3. As it begins its slow journey to the grave, alternate weeks of avoidance and denial with bursts of panicked and clumsy tending.
4. Throw it out. Vow never to buy a plant again.
I walked up to a gaggle of nursery people and asked for their help. I was looking for some lovely yet not-easily-murdered flowery plantiness I could perch on our front stoop. I was hoping one of them would get up, pick out a plant and place it in my hands.
But they kept providing me with information. I couldn’t process it. My mind wheezed.
“You could get a zerbertifora, or a ferfilligan,” they mused.
“Well, isn’t that the obvious choice?” I said.
“Really, you’re safe with any annual,” one of them said.
“What’s an annual?” I asked. They laughed.
“No, really,” I said, and they looked concerned for me.
I ran away from them and continued my disorganized, roundabout search for pretty crap to plant. I grabbed some stuff, but probably it was all the wrong kind. It was hard to concentrate, what with all the yelling at my son I had to do.
These days I like to yell at Henry at least five or twelve times an hour. I feel that this builds character. If I continually address him in a high-pitched shriek, he’s sure to be filled with love and respect for me! So: “WOULDYOUSTAYSTILLYOUCAN’TRUNINHERE.” Or! “STOP. TWIRLING. RIGHT. NOW.” Alternately, “OH MY GOD I NEED TO LOOK AT THIS. THIS PLANT THING. STOP PULLING AT MY ARM. LISTEN. ARE YOU LISTENING. YOU’RE PULLING AT ME SOME MORE. GAAAAAAACK.” When I wasn’t losing my shit, I was tsk-ing at my husband for the loss of his. “He’s just a baby,” I would murmur calmly to him. “Please, have some perspective.” It’s amazing how much more tolerant you can be when you’re merely observing the irritating behavior.
Sadly, most of the time I'm more than an observer. It seems these days that anything I want or need to do will be frustrated by Henry’s opposing desire. I am either being yanked one way when I’m trying to go another or sat upon when I need to get up or pulled off a chair when I need to sit down. He aims to thwart me. All the time. And I’m not enjoying it.
I find myself employing the horrible Clenched Teeth Hiss and the Strangled Cry of Blinding Rage. I am becoming that horrible mother who holds her kid’s hand a leetle too hard and walks a little too fast as he trips behind, yelling “You’re hurting my hand!” These episodes are usually followed by the need to weep or throw up. Or, hell, both! Every day, several times a day, I marvel that I’m not locked away somewhere.
It doesn’t help that I’m enjoying some rather breathtaking back pain (did you know that your back can hurt so much you can barely breathe, and yet you still remain conscious? I know it now! And yes, I’m getting medical attention, thank you concerned readers). And the constant pain is reducing my tolerance to, oh, about none.
It never fails to amaze me how someone I love so very much can incite in me so much anger. That I can be so angry at someone who is so goddamn adorable. When he goes to bed every night, he announces, “It’s time for me to tuck up,” and he pulls his blanket up over his head. Tuck up! Every time he says it I want to eat him. And his little candy toes.
I know we’re all under a crazy amount of stress, and I’m clinging to the hope that we’ll all begin behaving better, and soon. That’s what I’m doing right now—I’m clinging. I know this will pass.
At the end of the nursery trip, as we stuffed our car full of assorted plantery (I made a word!) Henry turned to me and said “I always love you, no matter what.” And then we sure as hell got some ice cream.
Reader Comments (100)
I think you're right, I think it has to do with stress and exhaustion and being overwhelmed. But it sucks for all concerned.
Thank God for bedtime. Also for Finslippy. It is comforting to find someone writing and thinking with such wry humor about something so pedestrian and frustrating (and, one hopes, ephemeral!).
Maybe a long weekend of that will reset your frustration levels? It might be worth a try. Good luck!
Fortunately, we take turns so the poor kid has one parent on his side (most of the time.)
I was screaming at her with my fists clenched, face red & squished up for playing in my stupid 8 dollar translucent face powder.
She went to chuck-e-cheese for playtime.
I hope you feel better soon. I am sure you will as the moving stress settles down. Ah, stress, thanks for being a pain! Literally.
I start getting concerned whenever I notice an uptick in adorable behavior--because I know it'll soon be balanced by the polar opposite. Yesterday C. started throwing herself into my arms and saying "Mama, I love you. I LOVE you." On the other hand, she then sat down at the dinner table, as I was assembling the meal, and yelled I DON'T WANT SOUP! MAMA I WANT MY SANDWICH NOW!! AAAAAIIIIHHHHH!!!!
And her new monster table behavior is JUST in time for a visit to my in-law's...
But... with kids around, that's probably not an ideal solution!
I have missed you! Moving & settling in is so much work. Thanks for writing such an awesome post, I needed it especially after a long 2 week bout of toilet training that just took place here.
My husband had a stroke 2 weeks ago, and I am under so much pressure....I want someone to come get my kids and take them home for a week, but when and if the opportunity presented itself, I just dont think I could part with them.
Plant hostas.....they never die and come back year after year.
I find myself so often alternating between wanting to hug my 2.5-year-old son until he pops and trying desperately not to bite off my own hand to deal with the rage. I think what you said is actually the key:
"It never fails to amaze me how someone I love so very much can incite in me so much anger."
I firmly believe that is *why* kids make us so mad. They know all the buttons. As my child psych uncle always says, "Kids come out of the womb wanting to know who's in charge and then spend the rest of their time on earth trying to destroy those people."
Hang in. I'll be looking back at your posts as we get ready to move in a couple of weeks.
Ha. I never do that.
That you know of.
*hugs*
..or maybe just us crazy ones! *maniacal laughing*
What works is the kids growing up and moving out of the house, I'm pretty sure. Mine are only 10 and 8 so I'll have to let you know.
I have been reading your blog for some time now and the delicate balance of self-absorbtion and irony never fails to please me.
Being a foreigner who lives in NYC, I find that the conventional itinerary of all city emmigrants invariably brings out unsolicited tons of pleasure, remorse and some strange sense of nostalgia for the very same things they've hated.
Hence, my question: What causes the anxiety and the stress? Is it merely a symptom of "À la recherche du temps perdu" malady? Is it the vista? The weather?
We,the future potential exiles, need to know. Will offer cheap labor for insight. Call plant killers @.