On Living With A Plethora of Special Needs

Don't you just love the word plethora? I do. Say it with me. Plethora.

I am sane. I am mentally healthy. I am emotionally sound. But I am surrounded by those who aren't. And so while I am sensitive to their plights, here are some things that just DO NOT make sense.

1) If a person is not allowed to use the computer and their mother is the one who forbade them, then wouldn't it be wise to not accept her request to connect you as a family member on facebook?

2) If you did nothing all day, would you make a point to tell your mother that you spent a whole hour doing as good of a job on your chore as you could when knew that your mom would check it and see that you did absolutely NOTHING. I mean I get not doing anything. But going out of your way to fabricate a lie? I didn't even ask him if he had done it? He started the conversation with "Hey Mom, Guess what?" and then proceeded to make up an outrageous story.

3) If you have money in your pocket, then why ask to borrow some to work it off later instead of spending the money in your pocket?

But the worst is the OCD/ADHD combo. I am having this conversation as we type this.

Why can't I start a fire?

Because last time you made such a mess Dad told you you couldn't do it any more.

You are such a liar mom.

Just a second, let me catch up.

Mom, MOM, MOOOM! You never answer me. And now something is crawling up my nose because of you. You never listen to me. You weren't even listening, because you never listen.

Something is crawling up your nose?

I said clogged. You frickin clogged my nose now and I can't breathe when it's frickin clogged. See you don't even frickin answer me or do anything for me. Why does Dad even have to go to these frickin meetings?

brief pause

SEE? You don't answer me. And now my throat and my nose are clogged and you clogged them and I can't breathe. See you never comfort me or care about me.

What would you like me to do?

See, you're still not caring about me. You still don't care about me.

How can I show you that I care?

I don't know, SEEEE!!! You still don't care and besides I can barely breathe.

I'm sorry you can't breathe.

I can't frickin swallow either. (swallow) My nose is all clogged up. And I want a fire.

Would you like some medicine for your nose?

Yes, where is it? Mom, MOM, MOOOOM!

It's behind you in the bookcase.

These stupid shorts keep falling down. Where???? This isn't it. I'm not taking frickin Nyquil because it will frickin put me to sleep.

(I think that was the idea)

Tell Dad to come home because I'm bored.

Dad has meetings.

And I need a frickin belt.....

(and that, my friends, is the first 10 minutes of my evening.