If I could give a somewhat accurate portrayal of what it sounds like inside my head right now, the above song is pretty damn close.  It’s not happy in there.

I have acquired 2 of the most moody, dramatic, and emotionally self-indulgent boys on the planet. Hands down.  One is a 10 year old with Aspergers/ADHD- so that’s his excuse.  The other is a 43 year old musician who’s excuse is…. well, it varies.  Daily.  Either way, I am forever put in the role of mediator/therapist/mother (to both of them)/referee/etc.  It’s exhausting.  And the “happy place” I mentally escape to is starting to rot and crumble.  Their combined Dark Force efforts have penetrated my Jedi powers and are eating them like a cancer- and Yoda’s wise words of wisdom no longer carry the strength they once did (is my Nerd showing with that statement?… that’s ok.  I have no shame.)

These boys have decided that they have complete freedom to express their anger however they see fit… and though they’ve both gotten better through mountainous efforts of therapists and self-help tools- it all still flies up in my face far too often.  One tantrum at a time, I can usually handle.  But when both fella’s let loose, I’m juggling broken glass.  I can keep the glass gracefully bouncing in the air from one hand to the other for a magical performance- but I walk away damaged and covered in blood.  And through all this, I wonder over and over, “Ok, you guys have had your turn… when do I get my chance to scream, yell, throw things and act like a rabid monkey?”.

Last night, Sully let loose.  Because he’s home for Thanksgiving break, his routine has changed.  He doesn’t do well with a change in routine (Asperger’s 101: consistency in routine is vital).  So I tried to set up days balanced with tasks and down-time so that I could keep him entertained while still getting my work done.  It worked until about 4:30 or so, then the was fully sick of my shit and started playing the “mind games”.  The “mind games” consist of him making fully insulting statements, but presented in a way that he can easily feign innocence and mock me for being “too sensitive” or for not understanding what he was trying to say in the first place.  It’s a really maddening game because if you try to tell him the error of the statement, you get slammed… but if you ignore it, he’ll keep it going until he gets a response.  He loves this game because either way, his opponent is fucked. This game starts when he is bored with my company, or with a task that I’ve laid out for us to do.  I can’t let him out of the task (because I have to have complete follow-through with everything)- but after an hour of this game, I want to break everything I can get my hands on (but nope, it’s not my turn yet…. I guess I’ll keep waiting).

Then there’s Brad.  Brad has been given many nicknames from his dear friends over the years… “The Quitter” and “The Angry Greek” to name a couple. He’s part Greek, and part Italian- and he uses this as part of his excuse for being a yeller.  If where your ancestors came from can really be a viable excuse for current behavior, I’d like for someone to let me know which cultural group is known for patience, serenity, and kindness in the face of stress.  Is there a group out there like that for me to seek out and mate with?  And if we ARE allowed to use our heritage as an excuse to act however we want- my biological grandmother was from Austria… so does that give me the excuse to get all Hitler on Brad (or anyone else who crosses my path on a bad day)?  If so, I’d looooove to Sieg Heil the shit outta my boys right about now.  Brad’s other excuse is sugar.  He’s found that if he has sugar too late in the day, he turns into a complete shitbag.  Moody and mean and critical.  My argument with this is that if you KNOW that sugar turns you into a shitbag… THEN DON’T EAT SUGAR!!!  Duh! (nope… not my turn for a tantrum yet because Brad ate a donut… I guess I’ll keep waiting).

Brad’s favorite thing to do when he’s mad is to quit things (hence the nickname “The Quitter”).  When he’s mad at his band, he quits.  When he’s mad at his schoolwork, he quits.  When he’s mad at his car, he threatens to sell it.  When he’s mad at his computer, he starts looking for a new one.  And when he’s mad at me, he quits marriage.  6 years ago, when he first started “quitting me”, it was very dramatic and made a huge emotional impression.  But now, 12 billion quits later, it has lost it’s power.  The Greek/Italian sugar induced screaming of “That’s it… I’m outta here… this time FOR GOOD” is now met with a yawn.  I’ve learned that if you’re going to quit a relationship- save it for when you really are going to quit, and then make that exit Oscar winning.  You’ve only got 1 shot at it- and if you blow it, it’s blown for good. (Is it my turn yet?  I’d really like to scream now, please…. No?  Ok… I guess I’ll keep waiting).

So with Hurricane Brad and Hurricane Sully tearing through my house all day, and me being the lone calming agents with these 2… I’m getting tired.  And my patience is wearing thin.  I have a really bad temper- but being a mother I have to keep it forever in check.  And when dealing with Brad, if I react to his whatever-induced anger with my own tantrum- it explodes into something truly horrific… so I must keep my emotions bound tightly in a bag with him as well.  (Um, now?…. can I scream now?… No?  Ok… I’ll keep waiting).

When do I get my turn?  When am I allowed to jump up and down on the furniture and scream at the top of my lungs and throw objects and verbal daggers in every direction?  Every day, someone else beats me to it.  For years, they’ve been beating me to it.  And for years it’s been building.  And building and building.

Sully just got mad at his Lego’s and threw them across the room.  Dramatically screaming “I’m not playing with these stupid things anymore”.

Nope…. not yet.   Still waiting.  And waiting.  And waiting.

It’s a good thing I don’t own a gun*.

(*gun would never be used on child or spouse… well, maybe on spouse.  But mainly just to fire off randomly at things in the house to get the satisfaction of impressivly loud sounds and objects getting shattered left and right)