Ordinarily this might have been viewed as one of “those days” where you wake up and just want to change EVERYthing…
…but that was furthest from my Walking Dead-esque brain cells. Of which I’ve got three left. I’d had four, but I can’t feckin’ remember when I’d said that I lost the latest one…
Today was full of “supposed-to’s”. I was supposed to relax and nurse a sore lower lumbar. I was supposed to go to a gathering this evening and was further supposed to have taken care of my ill-feeling husband once it was deemed that there would be no going of the out.
What transpired, in fact, was of a whole lot of cutting. Literally. Maybe a little figuratively, but with three remaining brain cells, it’s really hard to tell.
Backtrack: My twin boys, who are now 7-quickly-approaching-8 years old…have been sleeping in a bunk bed. Over this past calendar year, Thing 2 has expressed a desire to sleep by himself. Sleep by himself, because having a bunk bed has never deterred Thing 1 from waiting until we close the door to climb up to sleep up top with his brother.
Thing 2 is on spectrum. One of his triggers is, often, not having personal space. He not only craves it…he needs it. Like, air. And, breathing.
Thing 1 is not on spectrum. He needs physical comfort like no other. Sleeping up top with his brother is…natural.
It’s all they’ve ever known.
Both have been overcoming a language learning disability. Thing 2 evaluated at 3% on the scale…Thing 1…at 1%.
Now, they’ve grown and adapted by leaps and bounds. They’ve attended language learning classes and succeeded. They have no other learning disabilities and are quite adept, academically. 🙂
BUT: having one understand why the other doesn’t want him with him, and getting the other other to understand why he wants him with him, and then having neither be able to properly express any of it at all to anyone…
Momma’s about to lose her proverbial shit.
My gracious friend Mel suggested that perhaps having separate beds, by being “on the same level”, might entice Thing 1 to stay in his own bed. He would still be able to see his brother. I wasn’t 100%, but suggested the idea to two very eager spawnlings.
Now, this year we’re a little off-put with extraneous expenses. That, and a teen that eats like a rhino. Or, whatever eats more than a rhino. That being said, even IKEA wasn’t going to be in the position to assist in our plight of finding bedframes.
To hell with that.
“Honey? Can you grab the electric handheld band saw? I need your help.”
Cut that fecker’ right in half.
Horizontally. That brain cell was on the ball today. 😉
Two beds, two boys, not even two hours to rearrange the entire feckin’ room because that brain cell sure as shit didn’t think that part of the room-rearranging through…
Y’know, it’s really, really hard to often manage brain drain for my own goings-on. Frustrating. Add parenting into the mix and I’ve a recipe for tears and/or cutting shit in half.
And, by half, I also mean when darling daughters crawl up to you and “Oh-Em-GEE! I totally want a bob haircut…but…y’know…like…with one side longer than the other side?!? Here’s a Youtube video!”
So, I literally (not figuratively) cut off half of her hair.
Funny thing, my husband’s been looking at me all *shifty eyes* today.
Can’t imagine why.
Welcome to “parent.doc” posts…combining the fine art of parenting whilst balancing precariously on a chronic illness.