Day Thirteen of Feisty Pants' Captivity

    When Goo and I were dating, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, we were in a long distance relationship.  (Goo was in the Navy then.)  We got really good at long distance communication, which I think has helped keep us in good stead.  But sometimes, it was very hard.  But, right now, I have to say thee are two things I miss more than I ever missed him.  The first one is my mind.  The second is Feisty Pants' nurse.  It's been one of those days....

      It seemed to start out ok.  It's Hippie Pants's birthday.  (Smoochies, Baby)  She wanted ravioli lasagna for dinner.  But I forgot to buy ravioli.  She wanted a chocolate cake.  But I forgot cocoa powder and nutella.  I now feel like horrible adhd monster mom. Hippie Pants, being the easy going granola type she is, did not make a fuss.   So now I feel even more guilty.  She always gave up so much- time, attention, resources for sister, and never complained once.   And I cannot even remember the effing ingredients for her birthday cake.

        And Feisty Pants has been home now for two weeks.  She is bored and getting antsier by the day. Her nurse, who accompanies her to school, took a few days at either end of their Easter break from school in order to take a self described "once in a lifetime trip".   She deserves it, she really does. The nurse is awesome and fantastic and worth her weight in rubies and godiva chocolate which is why I wish she would get her effing butt back here already so FP can go back to school.

        And, of course, it's raining.  So Feisty Pants' mildew sensitivities are going full blast.  So she is achy and cranky and complaining.  Dinky Pants seems a tad under the weather too, possibly teething.  When Dinky Pants cries, Feisty Pants gets agitated and cries.  When Fiesty Pants cries, Dinky Pants gets upset and cries.  They screamed the Anvil Chorus for an hour tonight.

         I  write all this, not just to vent.  Not because it's cheaper than therapy or a night out.  I write this because if you are a parent, or hell, even just a human being there are gonna be crappy days.  If you are the parent of a special needs child, there are days that seem to grind on foreverrrrrrrr.  As I type this- one handed with sixty-five pounds of won't sit still grinding into my bad knee, FP is complaining loudly and trying to commandeer the keyboard because I am "not fun".  But, dear other parents, please know, you will have bad days too and they will pass.  Eventually the sun and sunnier moods will return.  Until then, there is always leftover Easter chocolate.