Sunday, May 11, 2008
I've had a series of instances lately that I have been wanting to blog about as they have been very frustrating to me, when it hit me this afternoon (after another such instance): These instances all have one thing in common, they are not that big of a deal, really, and I'm just overreacting. This surprised me because while I'm okay with overreacting occasionally, this seemed excessive and I had never pinned myself as a person that frequently overreacts. Of course, I'd like to imagine myself as an easy going carefree sort of girl, but unfortunately I've had experience to the contrary that I'm afraid I just can't deny any longer. Here they are in no particular order:
--Of course anyone who owns a car will be able to sympathize at least a little with this one, you all know the disgusting revelation that some bird has defecated on your car. My frustration with birds seems to have taken on new heights though and this is mainly because of our pool. We built this lovely pool in our backyard and it has been our favorite house-feature so far. We decided when we were building this pool that we'd like to have a waterfall put in, and we love that too. Soon after however, we noticed that we weren't the only beings taking advantage of this little oasis--the birds were too. Drinking, standing, and cleaning themselves on OUR waterfall. Of course this was enough to send me through the roof until I noticed that they were also POOPING on the waterfall too!!!! Mind you, this is right where the water washes over and into our pool and mixes with the water that we put our bodies in. Are you disgusted yet? Because I'm getting all riled up again just typing it. I'm not sure where normal frustration ends and full on dementia begins, but I have a feeling I'm teetering toward the latter. I look at those birds (and by the way, most of them are pigeons or "flying rats") using my pool and I get so angry. Furious and livid! I can't believe that they have the audacity to use MY POOL! MY POOL! And I actually begin thinking about how unfair it is that they poop on it regardless of the fact that we own it and we paid for it. It's our property after all, what right do they have?!?
--I'm not even sure if they are all fruit flies, because after the initial infestation, the things in my house are not buzzing around the fruit any longer. No, they buzz around me. Everywhere I go, they are in my face. Literally. I don't know where they are coming from, and I don't know how to get rid of them. I have researched on the internet, and I am told to look for a colony in garbage cans or sinks or around anything that might have food in it or touched it. We have no colonies. I almost wish we did so that I knew how to properly eradicate them. No, it's just one lone fly after another and when one dies another is still there. This makes me angry to the point of insanity too, and I'm afraid my family is starting to see it because this morning I was lucky enough to have caught one crawling atop my place mat during breakfast, and the next thing my kids heard was: SLAM! "YES!!! IN YOUR FACE!!!" that's right, I was trash talking a fruit fly that I had killed in front of my kids. They of course thought this was hilarious, but my husband was looking at me as if I had forgotten to take my meds.
--I'm sure you have noticed from previous posts that I'm not a huge fan. I have to think that this isn't a problem only for Arizonians, but let me tell you, it is really beginning to feel that I never had to deal with it on this level before. It all starts with my kids playing outside, which is ok. But then they lay on the driveway and roll around the garage and pick up rocks and touch myriad other surfaces that are dirty. Which is also ok. Then they proceed to touch their faces and smear it all over their clothes and hair. This is ok too, because when it's time to come in, we wash up and clean it all off. What's NOT ok is when it gets transferred to my walls and doors and door knobs and sinks. It sticks to my outdoor furniture, my outdoor freezer, the outside of my windows and last but certainly not least, it sticks to my car. The problem with that is when we get all dressed for church and go out to the car and my toddler runs ahead and rubs up against the side of the car and it is only when I buckle her in that I notice the HUGE black streak of dirt on her dress and on her hands. This is not a car that has been in a rainstorm or a mud puddle or anything like that, this is a car that was washed a few weeks ago and just collected a mostly invisible layer of dirt that you can only see on your clothes and hands. I wasn't even sure that's where it was coming from, I had to run a white cloth along the side and compare dirt colors to confirm that it was in fact the car. So great, now I have to keep my cars impeccably sparkly clean all of the time? Not just what would pass for normally as "clean?"
My Son's Teeth
--This is the one that really clued me in on my overreacting tendencies. My Son was wishing my Mom a "Happy Mother's Day" tonight when I happened to glance into his mouth and see that he had two adult teeth coming in right behind his two lower baby teeth. No big deal right? Well, when I saw it I almost had a heart attack. First of all, I had no idea they were there before, and second of all, I had no idea he even had loose teeth. And there they were, these gargantuan adult sized teeth hanging out behind the cute little baby teeth as though they were sharks teeth growing in rows waiting to replace the former row. I freaked out naturally, because adult teeth are supposed to grow in the same place as the baby teeth, not behind them, and there is clearly no room in my son's jaw for these teeth to fit in the same spot. So amid heart palpitations, I decide in a moment of panic to call my Bishop who happens to be a dentist because it is not a regular business day so I can't call my regular dentist. After about three rings, a voice of reason suddenly emerges and says: "what are you doing? Hang up and call your dentist tomorrow, this isn't ideal, but it's hardly an emergency." And then it took me about an hour to get my heart rate back down.
So you see, I'm definitely on the road to ulcerville. Or OCD town, I'm not really sure, but something is definitely wrong with me. But they say that the first step is recognizing that you have a problem, right?