It was going fine (by fine, I mean, desire for death was only intermittent) until I ran out of Nurofen. Now my halo has been swallowed up in a cloud of sulphur and swearing; I am sick as a dog and I want everyone to go away and leave me in a dying hole. I have started shouting; the dog is cowering in a corner looking at me folornly with its reproachful eyes and Lashes has told me to stop being horrible. Fingers has gone all silent, which is even worse.
My adored eldest son is on repeat today. He started at half five this morning. It goes like this:
- I hate the eyedrops.
- I am having scaredness about dying again.
- I don't want to DIE. I don't want you to die. Ever.
- Why do we have to die?
- Death is so unfair.
- I never want to die.
- How about if I get the eyedrops only in one eye?
- I never want to grow up I want to be six forever.
- I am still sad about dying.
- But this eye is better! Look! I don't need the drops.
- Will they make a magic potion to make me live forever? Will it be when I am 33? How old will you be when I am 33? That is TOO OLD.
- I am having bad thoughts about death again.
- Why do we die? It is wrong!
- How about I let you do one drop for each new dvd?
- How about when I am twenty? How old will you be? Ok, we will have to take the magic potion then. But are you SURE they will find one?
- I do not want to get old. I am scared.
- I am still having the bad thoughts.
- How about drops only two times a day not three?
- Death - waaaaaah!
On and on he goes, alternating between eyedrops and death with equal mournful intensity. Death is actually starting to look like a pretty attractive option. Initially sympathetic, I have started getting shorter and shorter with him ("Yes, dammit! I get it! You don't want to die and death is unfair! How about we just get on with being alive right now, eh? Now let go of my leg. I need tea."). In desperation we went out to get him another dvd. Instead he chose some stupid Pokémon game that requires me to read every stultifying detail to him. I keep snarling "You HAVE to LEARN TO READ". with the thwarted frustration of one who had hoped for an hour of stolen silence, lying in the dark. Fingers is pushing me over the edge by trying to get me to watch a film about a racing zebra featuring Hayden Panettiere. I have already had to watch it once this morning with Lashes, when Fingers categorically refused to watch, of COURSE. I could happily break the zebra's spindly legs and Hayden wouldn't be far behind. As for the talking pelican, really, don't tempt me.
I am horrible. I am a sucky awful shithead of a mother. Apparently weepettes hate tension and shouting too, so I am a shithead weepette owner too. Seemingly oblivious to what a bitch I am, however, they have all gravitated around me - Fingers is on my knee stopping me typing, Oscar is on my feet and Lashes surgically attached to my shoulder. Children and dogs - amazingly, shame-inducingly forgiving. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with Hayden and a pile of dog shit.
PS: If anyone has any clever ideas about these goddam eyedrops I would be so damn grateful. He is totally refusing and he's too big to force now...