runaway

I am sitting in my car. In the garage. (Engine off.) With a glass of wine in my hand.

It is quiet. No one is fighting. No one is arguing with me. No one is whining. Oh, the whining.

I have left one reading with his dad. He is mortally injured apparently. It might even... leave a bruise. The other one is in the tub and refuses to get out. Again tonight.

Again baseball. Another late night. The third in a series of five. It is too much. For me. Clearly too much for them.


Bug has sensory issues with clothes. I know this. I try to be careful about what I give him to wear. The the change of seasons always brings with it some stressful days with clothes. They are too tight. Too loose. Too short. Too long. Too wiggly. Too... wrong. Sometimes all with the same article of clothing.

And to top of seasonal clothing issues right now, we have a uniform. Bug has waited, eagerly, for five years to have his own baseball uniform. And now it isn't right. The shirt is too big (true), the socks have seams (true), the cleats feel "different", the hat is too tight/loose, the pants are too fill-in-the-blank.

So, combine the tiredness and the two clothing issues and we have a mess. A whining, crying, screaming, "I hate you Mama" (b/c it is all my fault) mess.

And I found quiet in my car.