The art of frustration

Today has been frustrating.  I just could not get going.  I have had an undercurrent of anger bubbling beneath the surface and it hasn’t left me.  Actually, anger is not the right word.  Frustration is definitely right.  

There hasn’t been a reason for it.  Well, except for the stupid fact that I keep forgetting to take my thyroxin causing me to feel like I’m wading through sludge; and that I had nightmares all night.  I dreamed of mom and that NEVER bodes well for a good day when I wake up.

JC went to school without arguments, so that was definitely a win for the day.  And whilst nothing mind blowingly horrible happened today, I have just felt out of sorts.  

What is the point of the story, you might ask.  Well, there isn’t one really.  I am just frustrated.  It’s my diary.  I don’t have to make sense, and there doesn’t have to be a point ALL the time, does there?  I would say no.

Do you ever have one of those days when everything seems to frustrate you?  There is no reason for it, but it is there ALL FREEKING DAY!  

It is christmas season.  I had to go to the shops – not for christmas presents, but to meet my in-laws for coffee – I couldn’t find parking.  Why does everyone have to do christmas shopping on a Tuesday at lunch time.  Seriously – that’s what the manic weekends are for!  But no, every man and his wife was at the shop today.  Just trying to get a coffee was a nightmare.  Finding a seat to drink my coffee with my in-laws felt like I was taking my life into my own hands.  The glares from the people in the queue behind me when I took the last available table, even though I was with what we can safely call elderly people.  So much for christmas spirit.

May that’s it.  Maybe it is the christmas season!  I used to love it, but I have to admit, in the last 4 years it has simply not had the meaning it used to.  I assume it is because my children are growing up and christmas is not so much the excitement of santa coming down the chimney, but more about what latest REALLY EXPENSIVE gadget might be dumped under the tree.  Consumerism really frustrates me.

I decided to go home and get some quiet time before picking up JC.  When I get home, I realise that I need to wrap the presents that we bought over the weekend (yes, we actually braved that bloody christmas crowd).  It takes me a good hour and a half.  I wonder if we have got enough for everyone.  I suffer greatly from giver’s guilt – the guilt that you never feel like you are giving enough.  Selling your soul to the devil wouldn’t even be enough.  I look at the MASSIVE pile under the tree and tell myself not to be ridiculous.

Next, I go to pick up JC.  He demands to know where his milkshake and donuts are.  A few weeks ago, I treated him to the aforementioned sweet things as a surprise after school.  I should have known better.  He is on the spectrum.  He wants it every day now.  Instead of patience, and refusing his demands, I get frustrated and storm into the shopping centre, grab the donuts and milkshake thrusting them into his hands.  I then berate him for not even offering me any.  He tells me it is karma – he is probably right.  My frustration does not improve.

I have sent Jay a number of texts today.  She hasn’t replied to any of them.  I feel frustrated and with it I feel clingy, like a needy mom.  I start to feel frustrated at my own frustration.

I get home and resolve to do my christmas cards.  I look at the list.  I never hear from any of these people.  Why am I sending them cards.  I know it is the season of giving, but it would be nice to get a card in return once in a while.  Frustration.  I abandon the idea until I am feeling more charitable.

Whilst I am going through this day of frustration, I am ploughing through a mountain of sugary food.  Dee walks in and wants to know where his “snakes” are – these are sweets in the shape of snakes that he uses for energy on his ridiculous 90km cycles he does.  I look at him and tell him I ate them.  

“But they are what I have on my cycle!”

I yell at him.  “WHAT DAY IS IT?”

He looks at me confused.

“WHAT DAY IS IT?” I yell again.

“Tuesday,” he says.

“What day do you cycle?” I ask.

“Sunday,” he says.


“Okay, I’m just saying!”

Frustration has followed me everywhere today.  As I write this, I am watching Jamie Oliver and his 15 bloody minute meals program.  It doesn’t take any where near 15 minutes to make this meal.  Any moron can see that it has taken the production crew about an hour and a half preparing everything before filming.  I’m frustrated that my cooking hero is turning into a liar.

They (don’t ask me who they is) say every day brings with it a new lesson to be learned.  Mine for the day is that I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed!