Sunday, August 30, 2009

It's Not Me, It's You

I think.

I think that Lola's the grumpy one. I'm pretty sure that her nonstop sarcasm, dirty looks, and recent lack of tolerance for anything that isn't absolutely perfect is what is driving the rest of us nuts. 

She can't practice piano for five minutes without growling and smashing her forehead down on the keyboard.  She's grinding her teeth in her sleep (I know because sometime around 2:30AM every single night since we got home from Alaska a week ago I have discovered her sharing my pillow).  She has to have the last word in every conversation.  Case in point:

"Hey, Lola, knock it off!"

"What am I doing?" (here you should imagine the snottiest, most sarcastic tone of voice possible).

"I can see and hear you kicking your sister's seat. Quit it!"

"She didn't tell me to stop. Why is it bugging you?"

"Because I know it will only take one more minute for her head to explode and a major fight to start."

"You don't know that. She might not care at all."

Eve is wisely sitting quietly on the way to her meet-and-greet at her new school. Although her eyes are getting wider and wider with each exchange.

"Lola. You're on thin ice here, girlfriend. Do me a favor and just quit kicking the chair, okay?"

"No. I don't want to."

"Hon? You also need to learn the art of keeping your mouth shut. No matter how badly you want to, sometimes it's wiser to just stop talking."

"I don't care."

By now I'm sure my blood is actually, literally boiling. I know that if there was ever a time when I understood the phrase "itching to smack you," it's now. My palms are itching. I can't see straight. I laugh instead of screaming.

"Stop. Speaking. Now."

"I don't want to."

HONESTLY? ARGHHH! What kind of human being doesn't understand that it's time to shut up after this particular exchange? 

One that is as stubborn as her mother, I think.

Suffice it to say that nearly every verbal encounter I have had with this child over the past week has been similar (if not exactly the same) as this one.  I am so done.  She is so irritated and irritable and irritating. My lovely, funny, sweet little Lola.  She has lost her mind and there are no consequences or lectures that can seem to penetrate her dark mood.

It occurred to me this morning that it may not all be her.

I dismissed the thought pretty rapidly after witnessing yet another meltdown with Eve.

But I am officially off of my antidepressants.

And I am officially in menopause.

But I'm pretty sure it's not me, it's her.

3 comments:

Carrie Wilson Link said...

Sister.

Let's talk.

Deb Shucka said...

Hormones sloshing all over the place like a mad tidal event. Yikes! Sending you love.

megan said...

Yayyyy for Back To School! It's almost here...who'd a thunk, right, that this would be a relief? Hang in there!

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