2004-05-31

I have been far, far away from my computer--- at my uncle's house, watching the kids. See, a while back, the Walshes were having medical drama. They still are, mostly involving Uncle Joe. He's got one lung that's giving him trouble. All he can do for it is lose the excess weight it's carrying around. So he's back on weight watchers and trying to get some light time on the treadmill. As he doesn't have the wind to chase the kids, I've volunteered my summer days to do just that. I'm confident that he's going to do what it takes to lose the weight and get back to where he was last year. Not great, but good enough for now.

As for me, my Aunt Lisa's dad offered to hellp her afford a mother's helper. She preferred me, as do the kids. So this is my job for now. It beats the crap out of Crappy Copy and Mail and Shitty Retail Job. Time goes faster when there's more to do. But I will never undervalue what a stay-at-home mom does.

It's not so bad. Patrick, the eldest, is about ten. My only quibble with the boy is that he's already too cool. Most of the time, he chills with me. Bugs me to sleep over, play basketball, stay longer. If I'm going anywhere, he wants to go, too. Then his friends stop by and he's suddenly monosyllabic, except for the word "whatever" creeping out. See what I mean? Too cool. It's times like these when I take him aside and hang him upside down to force the teenager out of him. Wau too early for that shit.

Brian, the middle, is an extremely defiant, little guy. He'll be asking me for a popsicle one second, then grabbing another without asking minutes later. He'll be next to me on the couch, I go to the bathroom and he's mowhere. Kid takes French leave without a word. I have to constantly go down the street and get him from his friend's house. Doesn't say a word. Just walks off. Neither bribes nor threats will workon the boy. If you want him to stop doing whatever he's doing, you have to physically stop him. Words have no effect. i.e.

"Brian, don't hit your sister."

"Brian, stop hitting your sister."

"If you don't stop hitting your sister, I won't take you to see Shrek 2."

"Brian! Stop!"

At this point, I have to physically pry him away from her, carry him to his room, deposit him on his bed, close the door, lean on it as he pushes, and inform him that he can't come out until he decides to behave like a human being.

I can understand that he's hitting in retaliation to one of his sister's little swats. But it's not like she knows better.

That brings us to Madeline. She's five and she's autistic. Usually she behaves like a perfect, little lady. She doesn't speak very well or always understand what you tell her, but she does get the gist. About once a day, she'll indulge in an extremely violent fit of anger. She'd probably do it more, but I doubt she has the energy for more. It's also very time-consuming and I'm sure she'd rather play.

Today, she had a fit over a broken bit of a big wheel. She was trying to balance on these wheels and I took them away. I just took them when I saw my chance and threw them away. I probably could have been smoother, distracted her first. My bad. Live and learn.

Anyway, the crazy part was that she directed all of her anger at Patrick. She kept hitting him. I tried to pry her away and she'd go for him again. I think it hurt him a bit, but he kept laughing anyhow because she'd run away from where I trashed the toy to chase him some more. He just kept saying, "She'll get tired of it. Ow! I'm fine. Ow!" It was crazy. At one point, I put my leg between them. I figured she'd go to hit me- the one she should really be angry at. But she reaches around me to go for Patrick again. I will probably never figure this girl out.

In the end, the whole thing was resolved by Maddy chasing Pat into my car. I started up and we went to the gas station. Gte the girl in a car and all her troubles go away. Sometimes she'll just sit in my car or her mom's for hours. She won't come out. Just sits there. My aunt Lisa says it's because she's used to the boys getting to go places where she can't. Wants to get a jump on case anyone's thinking of giving her the slip.

Don't worry, though. I'm not going to fill this diary with info about the kids now that I'm playing Mom. Just giving the basics. That way, if I mention the kids, nobody will be all, "Who?"

Very tired. Getting up at six thirty. I promise to write more often now that the medical drama has slowed down.