Frogs on My Skin

To give an inkling of how stressful my weekend has been…While driving earlier amidst the chatty Kathy doll in the backseat that is my child…A fly landed on my arm repeatedly and I seriously thought, I am so sick of these frogs getting on my skin.

Bizarre, fucked up, all that jazz, right? Not really a novelty, though. My brain is constantly substituting wrong words in my head and out aloud. (Have you read my posts, hello???I am not stupid nor bad with spelling nor illiterate, my brain JUST DOESN’T WORK RIGHT.) Least I have an idea where the ‘frogs’ thing came from. I was playing frog vs Shopkins with my kid earlier (the little plastic toys) so apparently I had frogs on the brain and metaphorically on my skin. Hmmmph.

Friday wasn’t awful. Mrs. R called and invited us to go for a car ride to the boondocks so she could pick up some dollhouse for her grandkids then she took us out for ice cream and back to the house for wine and lots of whine (Spook had to endure hanging out kid free, all the while bemoaning her boredom and how unfair it was for her to be so bored. Welcome to my life, kiddo.) R had a friend over he’s trying to teach guitar to, which of course, I was not warned about so that made me a little ill at ease. Oddly, the guy is from the neck of woods near where I threw up, er grew up, so his country ways were more welcome than the normal uppity company the R’s have. My kid acted like a spazz, saying it was creepy to be around two men playing guitar and she acted like Mrs R was gonna bite her and she was ‘nervous’. Yet she spends three days miles away from me meeting various yahoos my dad knows and she’s fine. The kid is turning my brain to Jello.

Saturday started out okay. Then dad darkend my step and informed me one of the kids Spook had played with during her time at their house had been found to have a louse in her hair. And BAM, down came everything crashing. I instantly checked my kid’s hair, having noticed almost no itching or anything visible and yet…I found two live buggers and a mix of nits and dandruff and scalp pieces. Into treatment mode we went. Tons of laundry, combs, brushes, mayo, conditioner, five different shampoos and conditioners, combs, tweezers…What a fucking nightmare. And doubly grueling cos I go ahead and treat myself with no proof I have it because I just won’t risk it. SEVEN times even after being told about lice and sent away her brat ass friends knocked on the door. Which made me get my yell on. (Horrid time to run out of real cigarettes, nerves toasted and roasted.)

Plus side, no friends, little stress. Spook and I got along ok.

Suck side, I lost my suck ass phone somewhere Friday night and no idea where and calling it from another line won’t help cos it was on vibrate and almost dead. Now I have to replace the damned phone at my own cost when I do not have the extra money and meanwhile, no one can reach us and I can’t even dial 911 cos I have NO PHONE. In a way, it’s a relief. They can accuse me of ignoring them but when you don’t have the phone to ignore, they’re the jackasses. Not a relief, having to cough up money for another phone. I hate phones but with school starting, I gotta have one. Not to mention it’s my alarm clock too so Spook and I overslept and she couldn’t go to church today even though I’d cleared her hair.

I kept her inside until 1 pm and the kid shocked me by tearing into her nightmare closet mess and bagging up junk and old clothes and tossing them out. I was so proud of her for taking initiative and bursting into action. I, on the other hand, woke to find my shark week had arrived way earlier than usual (often happens when starting a new medication and hormones fluctuate, I did the research, it’s happened a few times with new meds.) Anyway, no smokes, shark week=bitchy listless Morgue. Kid was doing all this stuff and most I did was feed indoor and outdoor cats and wash dishes. In all fairness, I busted my ass yesterday with all the treatments, washing, vacuuming, dishes, cat care…

She decided after cleaning and three kids knocking that she was done and I said, let’s go through your hair again to be safe and so…tantrum began and she pouted in her room a half hour. Then she came out and let me comb and pick through her hair and I relented. Only to have yet another day of kids in my yard, asking for food, and her bickering with everyone or getting a booboo every five seconds. By the time she came inside, I was ready to drop into bed. But no, I had to play the Shopkin/Frog/Hello Kitty game with her and I set an amount of time because it was nearing bedtime and as usual..She kept trying to barter for more time by using guilt trips and accusations of neglect. Even after I let her have the TV to watch cartoons and asked for TEN SIMPLE MINUTES WITHOUT MOM MOM MOM…Ninety seconds in, there she was in my doorway, mom mom mom.

I should be bald from yanking out clumps of hair.

Speaking of hair, I really found I hated the way the dye turned all pink and orange this time so I dug out a box of black dye that’s been there for months and mostly went back to black with a few patches of the pinkish orange pieces. Which are likely gonna be dyed purple at some point. Because I can and because it’s fun to freak out the local rednecks who think anything but denim and flannel is “freak show” territory. Idgets.

Now she is finally out for the night and I am waiting for my Xanax and melatonin to kick in. I have shark week spinal pain and I just want to rest. It was the weekend from hell and I earned a rest. I say so.

Three…more…weeks. Then school starts and my nerve endings may actually stop fraying and bursting into flames daily. A mom can dream…

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