I am trapped! I need your help. It is the middle of a blizzard, and it’s unsafe to go outside (I know, why do I continue to fucking live in this state of shit—sorry, I mean Massachusetts). It’s snowing, and my son is rotating through hyperactivity and screaming fits. He’s teething, normally he’s much better behaved.
Every time he screams, each of the veins in my body swell and pound as the blood shoots through them. My eyes burn from being tired, and my stomach aches due to my inability to soothe him. I’ve tried everything, a fresh new bottle, his favorite show, turning the lights down, rubbing his belly, giving him an icy teething-soother that is shaped like a hand (I assume it’s Jesus’s hand because there’s a big hole in the middle of it).
I manage to get him to calm down for a couple of minutes, as long as I’m paying one hundred percent attention to him, the second I stop rubbing his belly, or don’t hold the bottle for him—something he is capable of doing for himself— he loses his fucking mind.
Even right now, I snuck away to my office while he listens to music, and drinks a bottle, but every few minutes I hear him cry.
In addition to the helpless feeling of him being inconsolable, is the feeling of frustration that I cannot get anything done. Doing the dishes is like a relay race switching between soothing him, and washing a single dish. Completing a thought, actually thinking something and coming to a conclusion seems nearly impossible. I cannot remember the last time I had an uninterrupted thought.
Driving is how I manage to get peace when there is none to be had. On days like today, when nothing seems to work, a bottle, and his car seat put him to sleep, and allow me a little bit of a breather, but the snow is currently dumping on my home like a fluffy white ice-shit.
I genuinely hate living in a place where the weather dictates my sanity so much. The days are too short, and the weather is erratic. Yesterday was sunny and sixty outside, and today it’s like I live in the Overlook Hotel. I think I’m Shelley Duvall though, and not Jack Nicholson. Maybe I’m the kid? Or one of the ghosts. I think the fact that I’m unsure of who I am in the whole situation is yet another sign that I’m definitely living it.
The one good thing about Massachusetts and their fucking snow is that they know how to clear it. Within an hour of the snowfall stopping, the roads will be pristine streaks of black (well except for the potholes) and perhaps tomorrow, I can take him on a ride if he is at full melt-down status still.
So, the good news is, he can’t teeth for ever, and the snow can’t come down forever. So it’s just a waiting game at this point, and YouTube has plenty of tropical destination videos for me to watch and fantasize about.
Good luck braving the storm!