Nauseating

I had no idea how stomach churning it would be to get a letter from the teacher saying my kid was being rough with another kid. Repeatedly. Playing the chase-and-grab game with someone who really didn’t like it.

Last week he told me about the game and said he tried it on this other child and decided to stop when she didn’t like it.

I just heard today it happened at least four other times. In the past two days.

Each day, when I pick him up, I let him get settled then ask, “what part of your day was fun,” and “what part of your day was sad,” and “what part of your day was exciting,” and “what part of your say was frustrating,” and “what part of your day was boring?” Today he told me there was something really fun that he couldn’t tell me. I asked if he couldn’t tell me because it was so good or because it was bad.

Bad.

But it was fun?

Yes.

Oh, dear child, are you a sociopath? Are you normal? Are you going to be a bully? Are you reacting to our bad parenting? Are you just a bad person out of the box? Are you going to learn when I tell you things that should be obvious but seem missing from the Child 1.0 programming? If you haven’t yet, when will you?

Where did we go wrong? And which, of those, was the worst? And is it reversible?

Little boy, no matter how a person says it, stop it means STOP IT! It doesn’t matter if you like someone; you have to respect them and listen to their words. Always. Not just because you expect that of other people. Because it’s the decent thing to do.

He wrote a sorry note. He drew a sorry picture. He promised.

And I’m sick to my stomach. I emailed the child’s parent and the teacher, explaining how I’m dealing with the issue and how I wish I could apologize for my child.

We can’t apologize for our children, world. It’s beginning to seem that all the modeling and talk are totally wasted…is this true for all kids or just mine?

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Thanks for the shout out…

Counting Crows* played an ode to my all-day-morning sickness in “Sullivan Street” today in my kitchen…

“If she remembers, she hides it whenever we meet
Either way now, I don’t really care
Cuz I’m gone from there

I’m almost drowning in her seas
She’s nearly crawling on her knees
She’s down on her knees
Down on her knees”

*if the entity is Counting Crows, then we say Counting Crows’s. If each band member is a counting crow, then we say Counting Crows’. But since the band’s name comes from the expression “counting crows” and since it’s not The Counting Crows, I’m gonna go with the band is singular but ends with an “s”. Hence Counting Crows’s song. Which is why I had to rewrite the sentence without any possessive. ‘Cuz that just looks wrong. Any band member is hereby welcome to post that I’m wrong on this one. Including the possibility that Sullivan Street is not about me. Which I doubt.

Well, the jinx is comin’ to roost

Peanut is being tremendously sweet lately. And willingly playing by himself. And helping around the house and being polite. And sleeping.

Which is probably why I’ve been unbearably nauseated for three weeks. If I’m awake, I want to puke. I give in more and more frequently, but even after succumbing, the need is still there, every waking second of every day. If I wake at night, it takes three seconds before I register, “Oh, crap, again?”

So, clearly I have a stomach ulcer or an inner ear cyst. Maybe it’s a tumor. I’m only four weeks late, so it couldn’t be THAT. It can’t be THAT. I have to be really honest, I don’t want it to be THAT. See that paragraph above, where P is being reasonable and semi-self-sufficient? So it can’t be THAT. I can’t have made it this to far to have it be THAT. I finished and submitted a novel. I’m getting client work. I can’t be in the black hole for another three years.

So I’m opening up a plea for nausea advice. The regular stuff doesn’t work. Empty stomach, full stomach, doesn’t matter. Please don’t say “just don’t let yourself get too hungry” or I’ll throw up. The “little bites of cracker all day” wind up tossed on my neighbors lawn when we go for a walk. Fresh air is clearly not the answer, for I haven’t been on a walk or run without making an impromptu pitstop.

For a couple of weeks, nothing but the sugar from my Glee gum stayed down before 11am, and anything before 1pm was dicey. Now it’s the reverse. Fruit and cereal might stay down in the morning, but after nap all bets are off. Back to the Glee. At no time does the desire to self-remove my stomach with a rusty grapefruit spoon go away.

Ginger (fresh or candied or tea or Ginger People candy) makes me puke. Sour juices make me puke. Tea makes me puke. Water makes me puke. Miso soup only stays down for a little while. Salt and vinegar chips help a bit but only at dinner. Lemon lollipops help a bit. Motion sickness bands may or may not help, but I wear them for at least 12 hours every day. just in case. A voodoo doll of Spouse is not helping anything. Bargaining with all manner of deity seems to have no effect. Further proof that other peoples’ gods care more about football than about my being able to take care of my kid.

So what to do? Help out a lady who has some sort of gall bladder disorder or inner ear tumor. Because clearly it’s not THAT. Back three years ago when it was THAT I subsisted on almonds and oranges and only wanted to puke all day and night. I didn’t actually void several times a day. Plus, back then I was tired. Now I’m not tired. Except for the whole haven’t slept much in three years thing.

I’m seeing a doctor tomorrow because clearly it’s some sort of intestinal cancer. I think I’m seeing an oncologist. Or something that sounds like oncologist. I don’t remember. I made the appointment a couple of weeks ago and they said I could wait two weeks because I have, like, nine seven months to live.