Pissy Pants …

That should be my new nickname, Pissy Pants. Because that is who I have been this week. Apparently this week is "Let’s see how much we can piss her off" week. Gah! Just leave me the hell alone people! Go pick on someone else!

I just knew it was going to be a good week too. I even finally got to talk to the MIA friend.

Things were going smoothly for us. The stupid damn Air Force finally decided to pay Hubby his last active duty paycheck since they couldn’t be bothered to do so on the 1st when we were expecting it. But then people just had to start nit-picking on me.

I already discussed my Mother in my last entry. I still haven’t talked to her yet. Guess I’ll get myself psyched to be able to do that later. It still baffles me she would do that. Which it shouldn’t. Maybe that is what is bothering me so much, is that even though I should have expected that from her, I didn’t, and I was caught off guard. Apparently the "out of sight, out of mind" is not working to my advantage after all lol.

So then the next day I made a thankful post about the house. OMG! Hubby took offense to that. What? Are you serious right now? He honestly got all bent out of shape. I told him that between him & my mother I was doomed to have a miserable life; I was so sick and tired of the both of them twisting my words around and putting totally opposite words in my mouth. So much for my own personal freedom of speech!

Here’s the post in question …

Day 7 – Today I am thankful for our house. It may not be the greatest, or most prestigious house but it is our house. We were not given a lot of choices to choose from, and our time frame to find/purchase one was even less, but by the Grace of God, He provided this house to be available when we needed it. Even if it was the previous owners own personal DIY trial and error and we are having to correct those errors. Each and every headache is worth it at the end of the day and I am loving every moment I spend in transforming this house into a warm and inviting home for us.

He got bent out of shape over the part where I said it may not be the greatest or most prestigious. He was all, "If you didn’t want this house, why didn’t you say so?" I never said I didn’t want this house. Of the 5 we had to choose from, this was the best one. Yes I would have loved to have been able to have more time to decide, or have more to choose from, or had more money to spend so that we could look at better houses. But this house is what we could afford (thanks to our savings account I had been building up over the years) and was the lesser of the evils we had to choose from. Yes we could have went with a more expensive house and had his retirement check cover just the mortgage. But I wanted to make sure that if he got laid off or whatever happened, the house & car & utilities would also be covered by his monthly retirement check so that we didn’t end up losing everything. So yes, I’m happy for the most part. I’m dealing with it, I’m turning it into a home we can love, one room at a time. I’m making the most/best of this house that I can.

They both make me want to stop doing the Days of Thanksgiving because the headaches and frustrations are not worth it. But I refuse to give them that kind of power over me. I thought about just doing the Days of Thanksgiving here so they would never see them but at the same time I wouldn’t have to give up the enjoyment. But then the rest of my friends list would miss out. Again, I’m not giving them that kind of power. So I’ll just buy more Advil, more Moscato and take my pissiness out on fixing this house.

The same night as that post, The Child must have sensed I was pissy and decided to add her mouth to the mix. Usually when she gets mouthy I just remind her who she is speaking to and her consequences of her choices. That usually fixes it right then and there. I very rarely have to give more than a 2nd warning. But not that night. I had asked her to clean the table off & polish it after dinner, to include all the placemats. Our table is like 50 years old and simply wiping it with a wet cloth is out of the question. It has to be polished with furniture polish. A pain in the ass most definitely but there ya go. It is what it is. Anyway, she knows how I like for it to be done. I understand she is a kid and isn’t going to do it the way I do. So I usually go back behind her after she goes to bed to fix it. I’m not one of those parents that stands over her shoulder and yells till it is perfect. The fact that she tries is enough for me. But I also know her difference of trying and just being lazy. And that night was her night to be lazy. She didn’t move the placemats (or clean them off) and just wiped the table around them. Being that I was pissy, I decided that night was not a night to be lazy. So I called her back to do it over. Her first mistake was the huffy sigh. Her second was taking a placemant & shaking it onto the floor. When I made a comment about, "Don’t do that! Have you not heard of the sink or a trash can?" she thought it would be a good time to remind me that the dog would clean the crumbs up. *sigh* "Child of mine, that is not the point! You know better! Stop being lazy and do it correctly!" That got me another huffy sigh. So after putting the placemat back on the table, she decided to spray the table with the furniture polish. I just stood there. When I could form a coherent thought, it was this … "Have you lost your damn mind? You know that polish will ruin the placemats. You KNOW you have to take everything off the table before you spray." That warranted me a "I KNOW!" in a very loud, snotty voice. In my mind I could envision a room full of people who all of a sudden get up and run out of the room when she yelled that. She was on one side of the table & I was on the other trying to grab the placemat out of the way & I just sat it down, walked around the table & went to pop her in the mouth. This is when I discovered that she has been paying attention in karate because she put up the perfect block. So I compensated when she turned from me & came around the left side and caught her square on her cheek with my left hand finger tips. I then proceeded to tell her, "You raise your voice to me one more time. Come on, I’m waiting. Do it again! … You know we do not allow you to raise your voice to us. We will not tolerate any kind of disrespect from you, ever, period, end of discussion. You know how to clean this table so if you are mad because you are having to do it again, then you have no one to blame but yourself for not doing it right the first time. You have no right to take your anger out on me! Now do the table the correct way, quit being lazy about it, and stop worrying about getting back to the iPad or else you won’t see it for a week." I then went downstairs, told Hubby what had happened and then went outside to calm down. When I came back in, she had done the table the correct way. I went to her room, made her turn the iPad off and stop the art project she was working on and apologized to her for popping her. I explained to her that I did not like doing that, and she could tell I meant that because I was crying at that moment. I also warned her that since asking her not to raise her voice to us obviously is not working, that from now on she would be popped in the mouth. And each time we had to do that, it would be just a little bit harder and would hurt just a little bit more until she learned not to raise her voice to us. I reminded her how lucky she is, how lenient we are with her, how much she has and all we ask from her is good grades, her chores done and nothing but the utmost respect. After a few more minutes of talking we hugged and kissed and went about our normal nightly routine. Since then she has been more aware of using her manners with us and so far no huffy sighs have come from her mouth lol.

It kills me that I had to resort to physical punishment. Those of you who have been reading me for years know that because of my past, physical punishment is always a last resort with me. I hate the way it makes me feel. I haven’t had to use it in years. I know I am nothing like my mother so that helps, but it still kills me when I have to use it. I’m just hoping to get her in a good place so that her teen years won’t be so difficult for us all.

In other news, I keep forgetting to talk about it so let me do so now before I forget again. Drunk Uncle Pedro apparently knows his stuff. He was right when he told Hubby that he would notice a difference in the blood pressure medicine he switched. Because apparently that was what was causing the issue of no sex for me. Apparently the Lopressor was killing that for him. But not anymore. There are some days I ask him if he still has the Lopressor pills lol. At least I now know it wasn’t me that was causing the problem.

Oh and let me just post The Child’s room pictures before I forget that also lol. Keep in mind that the pink is powerful. But I promise it isn’t as powerful in person. Between the late afternoon sun and my phone camera flash, well it looks like Pepto Bismal bottle exploded in there lol

Those bookcases beside the tv is supposed to be connected to her headboard along with a cork board. Here is a pic from when she first got it after we moved to OK …

As much as I would love for it to all be together, it is ultimately her bed, her room, her rules lol

Ok, that is all I got for now. Time’s a wasting. Till next time …