Brian likes to do things like making rules for the kids that adversely affect me but not him. Such as taking away activities that they enjoy only when he is not home. An example that comes to mind is watching television before school. He leaves for work and there is about a half hour before Timothy leaves for the bus. Brian grounds Timothy from the television and that half hour becomes a half hour of interrogations for me. Timothy thinks of every question that has ever crossed his mind and in that half hour, he tries to ask me all of them. I am certain that it is intentional. If he harasses me enough I will give in. He doesn’t need to try so hard, I think it’s a stupid rule anyhow and if Gabrielle weren’t such a tattle tale he could be watching pay -per -view for that half hour for all I care. I can’t deal with being alive at that hour and I am almost always angry that I am. Questions and requests are pointless. At least if you want an answer that makes sense or is actually correct or thought out. I have apparently agreed to and/ or signed permission slips for trips, dropped classes, failed tests etc that I have no recollection of at all because the kids know to get me when I first wake up and I will sign or consent to anything. Molly once dropped out of honors English and I didn’t know it until I got her report card 6 weeks later. I asked how she managed to do that without my permission and I got silence, a blank look, and blinking eyes. I said, ok, before I call the school and throw a fit and make a fool of myself, did you forge my signature or did you get me to sign it while I was half awake? Yup, it was the latter of the two. It’s frightening that I do this and don’t remember it. It’s more frightening that my children caught on to this so early in their school careers.
Anyhow, back to Brian’s ridiculousness. He has Gabrielle learning something new each day. Which is not, in itself, ridiculous or a stress to me. At least one would think that. Except he gives her these assignments and then she stresses out over them. I have to listen to her complain and freak and read and stress the entire day. She forgets the subject or she forgets what she read and she fixates on it and drives me mad. So now he asks her when he gets home so she can answer him while he is here rather than have a mini stroke because she is certain she will forget what she read before he gets home. Last night I didn’t feel well. My rotten son gave me his cold and while I am not usually a pansy ass cry baby I really felt absolutely horrible for two days. The point is that I was in bed asleep most all of yesterday and last night. Brian had free reign. I noted a few things he did last night during the day today. For instance, I can’t find my thread. He apparently felt that my thread had to absolutely be re- located. I have no idea why and I keep forgetting to ask the dork. I still can’t find it. Every day is like an Easter Egg hunt around here except instead of colored eggs and candy I search for work supplies and instead of me happily skipping around my yard in my Easter Dress with a basket I am stumbling around my house half awake with my hair all ratty in a pair of miss – matched pajamas swearing. The longer he is unattended the worse the next day is for me.
Today I also overhear Gabrielle muttering about spikes on a chair and mid-evil torture devices. What? Huh? I chose to ignore this because Gabrielle is obviously not muttering to herself about torture chambers. I must have misunderstood. Lord knows that’s easy enough to do. I was busy looking for my scissors anyhow and thinking of my own torture devices.
Brian came home from work and Gabrielle greeted him with all sorts of details about “the Rack.” W. T. F. He clearly found a subject that she was excited enough about to retain the information. Yes, he had her looking up mid- evil torture devices and tools last night and she was so excited about it that she looked up more tonight. Last night was something about a chair with spikes. This evening brought on a lively discussion about the rack and the Iron Maiden. The spiked box, not the band. So he moved my thread and had my kid looking up torture. These are the things I know of thus far. The repercussions of me being sick and going to bed early last night could be very far reaching. I may have only begun to skim the surface of the damage he was able to do in a few short hours.
This is why moms don’t get sick. This is why I will never go away and leave him here unattended. That and the fact that he knows how to use “Let Go.” and I am not certain that I would have any children or supplies or pets left when I returned.