Grumpy
It's been a bit of a grumpy day. I can't remember if it started out that way, but I can definitely pinpoint the moment where I noticed I was irrationally cranky.
Everyone has buttons, right? Some little niggle that just worms its way inside and drives you mad? Well, I have a couple. Actually, probably more than a couple, but I've definitely been able to nail down two of them.
The first is being jostled or bumped repeatedly. I'm generally fine in crowds, and don't have any excessive issues about personal space, but being repeatedly bumped or knocked into drives all rational thought from my brain and floods me with inexplicable rage. If I'm standing with friends in a crowd and we're in a spot where people are constantly pushing past, I will walk away from the group and wait for them in a less busy area. At my friend's birthday dinner this year, we were sitting in a booth that was back to back with another booth, and the people sitting behind us were constantly bumping against the shared seatback. I should have asked a friend sitting on the other side of the table to switch places with me. What did I do instead? I threw salt at the other people. (It was not one of my prouder moments.)
The other button I have is noise. I don't like loud noises, but they're not what set me off: it's constant, repetitive noises. Such as, oh, a child constantly clicking his tongue or tapping his pencil against his metal ring binder?
Today I had three noisemakers all in one block. Two of them are brothers, and I think it must be something genetic: they're constantly clicking, and swallowing, and making random noises. (It could be Tourette's, I realize. They also both have a tendency to hold their crotches a lot. I have no idea what's up with this family's genetics.) I can usually take the brothers' antics in stride. Today, however, a third noisome child was added into the mix.
This one poses a bigger challenge. He's very smart, and completely indulged by his mother. He's prone to sulking, and sighing, and leaving his seat without permission, and complaining about his work, and making noises with his tongue, and opening and closing his binder repeatedly, and tapping his pencil, and asking question after question after question after QUESTION.
All of which I can normally handle. But it was something about the combination of this child, the two brothers, another boy in for an evaluation, and an older girl who needs a lot of help with her work that just made for a really stressful hour. (I can still hear the tongues clicking--I think I might have PTSD.)
I don't believe in Karma, but I do know this to be true: with the way my life works, if I ever end up having children, they will ALL be noisemakers.
Thank God it's a holiday weekend!
ETA: Oh, and I started knitting a bonnet for my friend's baby shower on Saturday (don't look at me like that; I LIKE leaving things until the last minute!) and the pattern did not specify I should use double-pointed needles, and I've gotten to the part where I'm picking up stitches and I realize: this is going to require double-pointed needles. ARGH! So now I have to find the right size DPNs and figure out how to transfer the rest of the stiches.
I realize no one has any idea what I'm talking about. It's just a frustrating note to end the night on.
Everyone has buttons, right? Some little niggle that just worms its way inside and drives you mad? Well, I have a couple. Actually, probably more than a couple, but I've definitely been able to nail down two of them.
The first is being jostled or bumped repeatedly. I'm generally fine in crowds, and don't have any excessive issues about personal space, but being repeatedly bumped or knocked into drives all rational thought from my brain and floods me with inexplicable rage. If I'm standing with friends in a crowd and we're in a spot where people are constantly pushing past, I will walk away from the group and wait for them in a less busy area. At my friend's birthday dinner this year, we were sitting in a booth that was back to back with another booth, and the people sitting behind us were constantly bumping against the shared seatback. I should have asked a friend sitting on the other side of the table to switch places with me. What did I do instead? I threw salt at the other people. (It was not one of my prouder moments.)
The other button I have is noise. I don't like loud noises, but they're not what set me off: it's constant, repetitive noises. Such as, oh, a child constantly clicking his tongue or tapping his pencil against his metal ring binder?
Today I had three noisemakers all in one block. Two of them are brothers, and I think it must be something genetic: they're constantly clicking, and swallowing, and making random noises. (It could be Tourette's, I realize. They also both have a tendency to hold their crotches a lot. I have no idea what's up with this family's genetics.) I can usually take the brothers' antics in stride. Today, however, a third noisome child was added into the mix.
This one poses a bigger challenge. He's very smart, and completely indulged by his mother. He's prone to sulking, and sighing, and leaving his seat without permission, and complaining about his work, and making noises with his tongue, and opening and closing his binder repeatedly, and tapping his pencil, and asking question after question after question after QUESTION.
All of which I can normally handle. But it was something about the combination of this child, the two brothers, another boy in for an evaluation, and an older girl who needs a lot of help with her work that just made for a really stressful hour. (I can still hear the tongues clicking--I think I might have PTSD.)
I don't believe in Karma, but I do know this to be true: with the way my life works, if I ever end up having children, they will ALL be noisemakers.
Thank God it's a holiday weekend!
ETA: Oh, and I started knitting a bonnet for my friend's baby shower on Saturday (don't look at me like that; I LIKE leaving things until the last minute!) and the pattern did not specify I should use double-pointed needles, and I've gotten to the part where I'm picking up stitches and I realize: this is going to require double-pointed needles. ARGH! So now I have to find the right size DPNs and figure out how to transfer the rest of the stiches.
I realize no one has any idea what I'm talking about. It's just a frustrating note to end the night on.
