Bricked


I decided on Friday that I was going to take a mini vacation from myself over the weekend.

And it was fantastic! I took my full doses of medicine and smiled. I grinned ear to ear at all of the things stretched to near transparency and the rest that’s hanging by a thread. I went grocery shopping at a local market, on a Saturday morning when it’s always packed with people, and loved every minute of it. I eagerly sampled all they had to offer and just enjoyed the flavor of something new.

Saturday was the white ponies, double rainbows, and gold dust dreams are made of. It was an easy day like Sundays are supposed to be. I was well-rested and in great company. We ended up spending about $150 on groceries that will take us through about 3 weeks. Conversations took place where not a single whisper of the lawsuit existed.

All of T.D.’s Christmas presents were purchased by C.S. and a good friend while T.D. and I napped. And later, we drove around aimlessly and found a 24 hour doughnut shop not too far from home. Any hour of the day, there are doughnuts to be purchased! How incredible is that?

Oh my, do I have a penchant for rambling!

Sunday. Well, I don’t actually believe that was the day God rested. If so, then wouldn’t that be the last day of the week in the Christian calendar?

Sidebar – A Little About Lulu v. Religion

I was brought up a good little, white, blonde, pink cheeked Episcopalian. Just like all of my Scottish ancestors before me. I was baptized, confirmed, and married in a small church in my hometown.

The church itself was built by the parishioners in 1930, with their bare hands. The diocese only lent them enough to build the church itself. Sometime in the 1940’s, the parishioners took it upon themselves to dig out an undercroft, so they may have a common area to meet. My grandfather and his brothers were among those men.

As you can see, my family is deeply rooted in the church. My aunts and mother ran the Sunday School. My grandfather was the financial officer and my grandmother headed every charity event. I was a dedicated member for my entire youth.

There are events surrounding my separation from the church that were beyond my control. I was invited back five years later. But after living in a Jewish community for awhile, my ideas of faith and religion had deviated from Episcopal practice.

Throughout the years, I have been actively involved charity events, but rarely spotted at mass. The church has been facing some serious problems, and I’ve wanted to help so much. But, C.S. isn’t much for wanting to get up early on Sunday morning.

End Sidebar

C.S. has been the one dragging me out of bed on Sunday morning! Somewhere along the way, he’s had a change of heart. I can really only speculate – but in any case, it’s been nice.

Sort of.

This is where the frenzy begins. T.D. went number 2 and we didn’t bring wipes. I was ripped away from a project I didn’t know when I’d get back to.

Then, in the afternoon. It happened.

I was toying with the new Blackberry App World. I should know better. I’ve bricked dozens of computers from downloading things. PC’s aren’t anything I can’t fix. I graduated with honors from a Microsoft Certified School. But, I don’t know much more about the workings of a Blackberry than what can be pulled from Crackberry.com’s forums.

Tallulah froze.

No, no, no, no, no, no, noooo!!!

Stupid 3rd party apps. I waited until we were finished with dinner and told C.S. that I had to get my phone fixed ASAP. And that required me to sit upstairs, hooked to a USB cable, silently loathing myself for the entire debacle.

I wasn’t up there ten minutes before C.S. yelled up. “What are you doing?” Even more irritating, I had to get up and go into the hallway to talk to him because he’s deaf in his left ear. “I’m trying to fix my phone.”. “Still?”..

Eye roll. Yes, still!

Another ten minutes goes by and I hear C.S. yelling at T.D. There were some crashes and T.D. crying. I flew down the stairs and demanded to know what was going on. My kid was acting up. Big surprise.

Everything was busy loading, so I stayed awhile to get them settled again. Then, I excused myself back to the Blackberry battle.

“Lulu, could you come help me?” Back down. Up and down, a dozen times in two hours for every little thing.

I helped C.S. get T.D. into the bathtub, and once again, I took my leave. Fifteen minutes elapsed and I heard a crash, bang, boom! T.D. was hysterically crying and C.S. was hollering. All while I’m jumping two and three stairs at a time screaming, “What happened?!”

I scooped my son, wet and naked, into my lap and hugged him. C.S. began explaining that he ran off and must have slipped. My boy was fine in a minute, jumped out of my lap, and ran off to do his thing.

Suddenly, I was filled with rage at the whole ridiculous, irritating, infuriating situation. I clenched my fists and ground my teeth. I grabbed the item closest to me (thankfully, a little plastic tube), and hurled it at the fireplace. C.S. stood behind me and asked, “What the hell is wrong with you?” Every muscle in my body tightened and locked. And I pounded my fist onto the floor. Repeatedly.

“What’s wrong?!”

I snarled and screamed, “I can’t even do anything without getting interrupted by every little thing!”

He responded, “I can’t handle T.D. by myself. I just can’t do it.”

I yelled at the top of my voice, “I do it, by myself, everyday! I was doing it all by myself the day after my surgery!!!”

He went silent. I guess walking a mile in my shoes caused a few blisters. And I was left in peace to finish the repairs.

I know. My fit was absolutely outrageous. Honestly, I couldn’t stop it. It all came on so fast! I rarely have tantrums like that, but I was so overwhelmed! It was such a strong I was obligated to act.

Am I alone in the indulgence of inappropriate expression?

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7 thoughts on “Bricked

  1. You’re not alone, I’ve indulged in some explosive reactions. Like you, they tend to come out of nowhere and then seem like an overreaction to the situation. But in your case, you’re right, you take care of you child everyday on your own, your husband should appreciate that fact much more now. Even if it took an outburst to get that point across.

    • The reaction was frightening. I wasn’t indulging a feeling. I was actually completely out of control of my actions. Literally, I could feel it bubbling, and my mind went into shut-off of any mitigating part of it. I’ve had this happen before, but it’s been a long, long time. Usually, I’m prone to verbal outbursts. It’s been rare anymore. This was unexpected, but I was taken way past my threshold.

      A person that knows C.S. and I very well knows that we are never silent with each other unless there is something incredible happening (good or bad). We chirp like little lovebirds to each other all day. That’s the best way to describe it. Whenever something happens, we always have some kind of commentary, opinion, or defense. And when C.S. went silent, I looked up at him and saw it in his eyes. He knew I was right. He knew that I have taken care of T.D. under extraordinary circumstances. There was no dispute. I think he spent the rest of the evening feeling bad about it.

      I didn’t want him to feel bad. I don’t blame him for any of the times that I’ve had to take care of T.D. when I was hardly capable of it. The man has to work. We cannot afford for him to drop everything every time there is a mini-crisis at home, both financially and career wise. But, I do feel as if he should be able to take the reigns when I have to take care of another pressing matter.

      PS: The phone was bricked again on Tuesday, and I had enough. So, he helped me call the company to get a replacement. Instead of finishing the programs for the show, I spent the night dealing with the damned phone again. No more. I’m sending this POS back.

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  3. No, you are not alone. I remember a specific day this summer when I was in the kitchen doing dishes and cooking supper and Spook kept getting under foot and I was starting to panic…and The Donor just sat staring at the TV. And I suggested maybe he could keep her entertained til I was done and he called her name a few times, but she still remained under my feet by a hot stove. Then I tripped over her, she fell down, I fell down on the baby gate, and I let out a yell and started bawling while cursing…and he’s still just standing there going, “What? What was I supposed to do?”
    I think that was when I hurled a sippy cup past his head into the sink.
    I get so sick of hearing how men are the stronger sex.
    Some men can barely walk and chew gum at the same time, let alone pull of the juggling act moms do everyday, including waiting til the kid goes to bed just so you can go to the bathroom by yourself for the first time of the day. You definitely earned your “tantrum” though I prefer to think of it as a frustration meltdown. You are entitled.

    • LOL, thanks for thinking so! I don’t really feel too bad about it because I did feel justified. The look of shock at his own behavior emanating from his own face sealed it for me. He knew it. Every word I said was true.

      Responses like that from C.S. are rare. He projects himself as an infallible creature. Yes, he is typically mindful, and considers everything swiftly, but carefully. So, he usually feels justified in his way of thinking and behaving, regardless of any flaw I may find with it.

      When I have an argument, it is rarely about who is right. It is about having the other party come to really see what I’m trying to convey to them. This is not to say that I intentionally provoke arguments. I just don’t shy away from a lot of them. I’m too young to live my live in unhappiness and unfulfillment.

      This wasn’t an argument. This was a fit. A blowout. It had no intended purpose because it was absolutely unintentional. It was worse than one of those knee-jerk reactions. It’s what happens when you innocently, and unknowingly, put two volatile chemicals together. They don’t know that they’re going to blow up. It just happens as a part of nature, I guess.

      The conditions were just right. I don’t have a chip on my shoulder about caring for T.D. solo. No bone to pick about anything. In fact, we’ve seen some pretty smooth sailing as compared to other points in our marriage.

      I love him. And I know that there are some things that cannot be unsaid once it is out there. I’d rather not destroy my marriage with repeated outbursts like this. I’m hoping it was an isolated incident.

    • Oh and BTW. If there are still any people out there that insist “Men are the stronger sex”, they can kiss my big, pink ass. Stronger physically, surely. I know I can’t lift what a man can. But, women are biologically programmed with a higher pain threshold. The recent research that discovered women feel discomfort sooner is biased. It begs the question, “Is this a cultural thing where men don’t report it when they actually feel it?” We may never know. I don’t think there is a civilization on Earth where women were considered to be the superior gender.

      I’ll tell you this. I have asthma and walked on Walking Pneumonia this summer during ozone red days for four weeks before I saw a doctor. Yeah, I reported it as soon as my throat became sore and I lost my voice a few days into it. But, I didn’t feel the need to see a doctor until my airway had almost completely swollen shut. The doctor told me that one more ozone day and I could’ve been hauled to the hospital from falling down in the street in Pittsburgh.

      I did not have air conditioning in my house. I commuted on foot, up a hill everyday. I was on my feet, teaching music all summer. And, I was caring for T.D., and cooking dinner every night.

      I won’t lie. My dad survived small heart attacks at home. But the man has been a disabled vet since before I was born. No job, two teens, a homemaker wife. As compared to my mother who had an infection in her breast for six months before she landed herself in the ER with a seven day stay on IV antibiotics. She continued on oral antibiotics for two months afterward.

      I will finish this by saying that I don’t believe there is a better gender. But women can take a lot more than men give them credit for.

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