I want to write something funny. I like making people laugh. I love hearing that something I've written has lightened someone's day and entertained them.
But I'm drained. I'm emotionally drained. I feel like I have nothing left to give. It is SO hard seeing your children hurt and not being able to fix the situation. It sucks. It just plain sucks. And when your child's depression causes them to act out in really horrible ways, it takes all your strength to remember there's a little kid who's hurting in there and he just doesn't know how to deal with his feelings. Sometimes you just have to bite your lip and stay calm even though every fiber of your being feels like knocking said kid into next week. And as much as it seems like he's hell-bent on making your existence as miserable as possible, you have to realize that you're getting the brunt of it because you're the parent who is there, who cares, who loves unconditionally, who isn't going to leave, who he's comfortable expressing himself to.
But it still sucks.
Okay, here's something funny. Brooklyn managed to get a small, metal Slinky tangled in her hair today. I have no idea how this happened. I have no idea how I got it out either, but it required supreme patience. And dexterity. And patience.
What walks down stairs, and gets stuck in hair,
And makes a slinkity sound?
A spring, a spring, an evil ole thing,
Everyone knows it’s Slinky…
It's Slinky, it's Slinky, for fun it's a terrible toy!
It's Slinky, it's Slinky, it's bad for a girl and a boy!
But you have to laugh at stuff like that. Because if you don't, life has this funny way of slapping you upside the head and making you realize just how silly it was to stress over it. For example, a few hours later, Brooklyn got a wad of bubble gum stuck in her hair. HEE HEE HOO HOO HO HO HAAAA. HA. Ha. Hmmmmm. Ahem.