I Need A Job

Forewarning: I am angry. That is all.

I had been planning on writing this post out when I could think clearly about the events of the 11th when I had to watch both the Spawn and the Terror, and in fact was going to put it up today. After all, I had calmed down significantly since then and could think objectively about the whole day... Last Friday I was supposed to be paid. Now, if you read this blog, you might think I've been paid a couple of times since the first post on this blog... Well, I haven't. Today was only the second time I've ever been paid since I started watching the Terror.


The first time I got paid $85. Today? I got $80. I did the math on that... I'm still pretty much getting paid $8.50 a day to watch her kid.

Alright, deep breath Kit, don't get mad... just tell everyone what you planned...

On the 11th I had to watch both of the kids at the same time, and as you may know, the Spawn seems to think it's his job to terrorize the Terror and get her behavior going a thousand times worse. He was okay first thing in the morning because he was focused on his game, but... he beat it, and not 30 minutes after my post, he came out of his room and helped to cause near non-stop chaos for the rest of the day.

On top of their usual behavior of dashing up and down the hall and jumping on the couch, the talk of buttholes continued... non-stop... through every conversation... no matter what they were playing. Sometimes they changed it up and talked about dooky. I got them to stop for all of 15 minutes when I made up a game where they could only use five words to talk, all really weird words, like "ceiling fan"... That occupied them until the Terror kept on talking about poop and butts... I couldn't make it stop.

Before I move on, I will tell you the good things that happened: we all had a good laugh over the questions for the FAQ and my answers, and I had a couple of nice game conversations with the Spawn... There was even a kind of touching moment when I explained that when I was yelling at them to stop, I was yelling at both of them, not just him. They were both doing things that were wrong, and he should tell me when she was bothering him, so I could take care of it...

... You know, as opposed to getting a hard pillow and slamming it across her face while screaming at her.

That was pretty much the only good things that happened. The rest of the day was spent trying to make them play nice with each other, trying to get the Terror to stop trying to shove her finger up his butt, to leave him alone when he wanted to go back to play his game, to get him to share with her...

They had pillow fights and wrestled and stacked pillows on each other and jumped off of the couches onto each other, and for the most part... I let them. So long as they weren't screaming or arguing, I let them be and play with each other.

I could remember being six and playing with my older brother. My older brother terrorized me. We were both in Judo, so he called it "practice" and my aunt let him pound my head repeatedly into the floor or ground while they watched. Also, he was in football, and would use me as a target to practice tackling.

While the Terror and the Spawn pretty much screamed and hollered non-stop and made me wanna strangle something, they pretty much were having fun. Aside from taking an iPhone or iPod (don't own one and can't tell the difference nowadays...) and recording him talking and not sharing, and above incident where she was bothering him and he wailed on her, and all the times she tried to shove her finger up his butt, they played pretty well with each other.

Of course, that doesn't mean they didn't drive me nuts with the constant chaos, and the Spawn played his usual game of ignoring my authority and laughing at me when I tried to get them to stop, or getting way too offended and storming off... But talking with the Hedgehog cleared all that up later. You have to feel sorry for a kid who thinks everything's his fault.

So looking back on it, it wasn't as bad as it could've been... even though they made fun of me and hit me in the head with a pillow when my back was turned, said I had a "monster face" and that I was fat.

But my point is... would you deal with all of this for $8.50 a day?

And would you really pay the person who watches your precious child from 8am to 8pm some nights for 3 or 4 days a week so little...?

Looking to be in for a Rough One

It returns!

Today's a day off from school for the Spawn, so he's home, and unlike yesterday when he came home early, I don't have the Hedgehog and his little sister helping me keep an eye on the Terror and the Spawn...

Seriously, this kid is part monkey.

 Surprisingly it's been okay, though. See, the Spawn just got Call of Duty, so he's been in his room hole'd up with his PS3 and big flat screen tv... Me and the Hedgehog don't even have a tv half that nice... Gods I wish I could be a kid again when I see stuff like this.

Anyway, he's actually been a pretty good kid. We had a whole little conversation about his game while he was heating up pizza, and he never mentioned butts. I was really amused by his monkey-like abilities to jump onto the counter to get a plate out of the cabinet, too. All in all it was kind of weird and fun to see that he wasn't trying to out terrorize the Terror.

After he left, though, the Terror thought it would be fun to try and gnaw Noodles's ear off, despite the fact the dog was sitting on her lap screaming. After yelling at her to quit, stop, and let the dog go, I came over and had to forcibly pry her arms off from around the dog... Screaming at the top of her lungs, I put her in timeout.

She sat there doing that awful thing she does where she just screams short little "ah" sounds while staring at me as if trying to force me to go insane. When she finally began to quiet five minutes later, I informed her that she would stay in the chair until she stopped screaming, and then, and only then, would I start counting her five minutes of timeout... That shut her up instantly.

I had thought yesterday's lesson from her aunt that you could walk out of timeout had been forgotten, but...

The time had just gone to the end of her five minutes when there was movement out of the corner of my vision... the Terror was attempting to sneak down the hallway while I wasn't looking. So I grabbed her real quick and set her back in the corner, pointing at the clock on the stove. "See this? Your five minutes were up, I was just about to let you out, but because you went to sneak out, you have to go back for five more minutes."

So she sat in the chair and alternated between her forceful "ah"s and sobbing and whining to herself...

It's not even lunchtime yet.

I Am Sooooooooooo Screwed

So last night after sitting around for a few hours plotting all sorts of post ideas with some key words so I remember what I need to write about, almost all of them about funny incidents or memories, I pulled my blog up to look and see how my posts look to you guys.

Me and the Hedgehog don’t really have internet at home right now, its been turned off until we can buy it again for a month, but Firefox remembers what things look like the last time you looked at them if you type in the address, go to another page, and click the back button, so I was reading through.

My ego got a tiny boost at seeing I apparently had a comment that I’d forgotten to read earlier, one from Jess, mind you, and that my pictures were kind of funny (though I really have to stop talking about my random depressed moments and hinting at my sad childhood… I’m supposed to be inspiring laughter, not pity... though the Cat Incident should inspire sadness and rage...).

Then I got to the Awesome post where I was talking about a FB convo I had with Lulu. While looking at the post I remember my pictures link to the blog, sorta, and I wondered where those pictures linked… Imagine my horror when I saw they linked straight to our FB profiles.

 For a moment I sat on the bed, panicking as I’m wont to do so easily, thinking about scary blog stalkers who secretly love me but are too creepy and stalker like to subscribe to my blog where I can see them because that would ruin their lurking abilities while they’re trying to friend me on FB; and then I would feel awkward and like I needed to accept because I’m nice like that… but then they would talk about the blog on there and the Hedgehog’s family would ask and the stalker would stupidly link it and then the Hedgehog’s mom would know I talk bad about her precious grandbabies and his sisters would know they annoy/intimidate me beyond all belief because I don’t feel like a proper adult like they are; and then they would legitimately hate me and the Hedgehog would leave me because he realized they were right and I would be all alone and paranoid in a world that’s cruel and harsh and no one would ever love me because I would have to become homeless again and no one would want to love a person who’s been homeless multiple times before the age of twenty-one.

 But then I let out a sigh of relief because all I’d have to do is simply not friend the people and pretend like I have no idea what was going on, besides, I would fix the pictures somehow in the morning before the Terror woke up. It’s not like just because my FB was linked on the blog meant the blog was linked to the FB. It would be fixed quickly before there was any damage done…

Anyway… So the Hedgehog had to ruin this momentary lapse in my panic by reminding me if I didn’t fix it and somehow his mom got linked to the blog she’d see that and know that it was me, because hey! There’s my FB!

 I panicked again…

She would see me talking bad about her precious grandchildren…

She would see me calling her daughter a hypocrite…

She would see me getting all annoyed and venty all over her family…

So I reminded him about how he’d accepted it pretty okay. I mean, you’d have to have absolutely no humor whatsoever to think I hate the little Terror, and I do mention that I’m actually only really scared of making his mom hate me… I mean, I’m just not a very well adjusted member of society. If I don’t know you, and I’m aware I don’t know you (which I’m sometimes not because I’m horrible with names and faces and sometimes if people both have the same eyes I’ll think they’re the same person despite drastic differences in everything else… It takes me at least a week of constant exposure to really learn a person.) I’m a really shy person. I’m terrified of making people hate me and saying the wrong thing…

The blog is here because on the internet I can be me without fear, but on FB I couldn’t be me without fear because this is the Hedgehog’s family and I love him and if they hate me the only logical thing he could do would be to leave me from sheer shame of being with a girl his family hates…

That doesn’t mean I didn’t fix those pictures, though. If you really wanna friend me that bad, stalker guy, I’ll make a new FB just for this blog.

My Entire Life is Irony

My previous post has become extremely ironic to me, and yes, I do mean ironic as in actual irony and not ironic as in something that’s sort of funny in a way that situations would be funny if they could be sarcastic.

See, I had this horrible migraine that developed  whilst I was posting my previous post (which was shortly after reading Allie‘s post over on Hyperbole  and a Half… I  think I felt so bad for her I felt bad… Also, this is a shameless plug for someone awesome who gave me the courage to make a blog), and I felt bad enough that I crawled into bed, pulled the covers up over my head, and laid there, wishing I could die because I was sure death felt better than feeling like you’d puke every time you breathed. Well, while laying there, the Hedgehog called because he was on his way home, and I told him breathing made me feel like I might puke and talking made it worse. How talking made the feeling worse,  I don’t know, but it felt like every time my mouth opened I was gonna spew all over the phone, so I begged him  to  let me go. He agreed, but only if I would tell his older sister, mother of Spawn and Terror, that I felt bad just in case I still felt bad in the morning.

So I sent her this text, because talking made me wanna puke: Hedgehog wanted me to tell you I have a migraine and feel awful just in case I still feel awful in the morning.

See, she’d already sent me a message saying she’d be by at 9:15 am, and I’d told her alright. I wasn’t even going to tell her I felt sick, because,  hey? What’s the point when I should feel fine in the morning? I’m not the kind of person who lets others know when I don’t feel good. I was raised to suffer through it. Well… this is how I meant it:

“I don’t think this is important, but the Hedgehog thought I should let you know, just in case when you pick me up in the morning I’m acting kind of funny. I have a migraine.”

This is how she took it:

“Hey, I feel sick so I’m not coming in. Good luck finding someone else who only works for $8.50 a day.”

This is why I put pictures in my posts, so that you guys know that, even though sometimes my words sound cruel, I don’t mean anything bad about it. Sure, I sometimes wish there was a law about allowing me to punt other people’s kids,  but I happen to love the  little Terror… she is often times not the kid I want to punt, that is that kid in Wal-mart who’s screaming at the top of their lungs about not getting candy and the parents are trying to reason with it…  Do not reason with a child who acts like that, punish them,  they will learn that behavior won’t get them anywhere. I did,  so will they.

Instead of texting me back asking if I was still coming or not, she assumed the worst… which is also hypocritical of her because this one time she pitched a fit and called and bugged the Hedgehog and her mother complaining I was ignoring her because she texted me saying she would pay me on Monday and I didn’t text back an OK.

So, guess what? She did the same thing as in the previous situation, and when the Hedgehog got home, he made me feel like I was a naughty child. Not only had his older sister thought I was trying to weasel my way out of work, but his mom had decided to vent her spleen at him about me after hearing what had happened from her daughter… and here is where the irony of my previous post comes in.

She complains about me because the apartment isn’t clean.

See, in the previous post I explained that I feel like a useless, horrible, failure and a burden because I don’t keep the apartment clean, this is how I feel, yes, and while I suspect that people might believe it, I don’t really believe it’s true… yet it is, so that’s irony. The outcome I wasn’t expecting happened.

Another bit of irony comes from the fact that Hedgehog’s mom also thinks I don’t like her because I don’t talk to her… I don’t talk to her because I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid and make her not like me…



Also, there was a complaint that I don't spend enough time with the Terror, which occured because after the Spawn left and she was being bad I refused to play with her in an effort to  punish her for being bad (also might be because she was trying to get  me to pick one of her tiny pet toys and I wouldn't because I didn't want to play tiny pets any more) and she told her mom that it made her sad. (Which broke my heart hearing from the Hedgehog) So they blamed it on the internet and instead of talking to me like the adult that I am,  they disconnected the internet like I was a naughty twelve year old...  which made me feel the same way I did back when my dad realized I'd grown too big for spankings and that was the only way to have any effect on me 'cause I had too many things in my room to occupy me if he used that  as a  punishment... (Luckily the Terror made me feel awesome today, so...)

...My entire life is irony… I feel horrible… I can’t even think of  pictures to  make this situation seem better…

Spawn, Brother of the Terror

… Right now I am only thankful of one thing, and that is the fact that the Spawn is very rarely around when I’m watching the Terror. You see, the Spawn is the older brother of my adorable little Terror that I must watch everyday…

"You're a *giggle* butt hole..."

And he is at that age where he thinks talking about butts makes him adult.

It's hard to believe my Hedgehog is the uncle to these two...

See, when the two of them are together he takes the chaos that I barely have control over and stretches it to a  breaking point, snatching it out of my hands and turning the entire house into a disaster area. No, I am not exaggerating either. The Spawn antagonizes her on purpose, knocking over the few toys she’s allowed to play with and telling her, and I quote, “You have a hairy butt.” Not only that, but he also starts doing bad things on purpose in an effort to make her act out even more, like jumping across the couches and screaming at the top of his lungs and running up and down the hall…

And I sit there, terrified, because I’m not sure where my boundaries are with this kid. The Terror I know all too well, I’ve learned when and where I’m allowed to act like her babysitter, and that’s pretty much all the time. It took the Hedgehog reassuring me though that I’m allowed to punish her when she’s being bad, otherwise I would just sit there in a panic.

I panic way too easy...

Yet her brother is older and whenever he’s around it’s almost always with his dad in the house, though his dad is always in the shower. The Spawn knows this. He knows I’m terrified of overstepping my bounds. He can smell my fear… he knows his dad won’t hear him being bad… He knows that because he’s older I can’t just stick him in time out or send him to his room, and that’s something that he takes advantage of. He stands up to me when I tell him to stop, laughing at me and making fun of me and getting the Terror to do so as well, because he knows that there’s no real stopping him, that the only person capable of really punishing him is no where nearby… And the Spawn proceeds to be as bad as he can in as short of an amount of time he can.

So he starts talking about butt holes, and getting his sister to talk about them, and when I tell him to stop he just laughs at me with this… this look on his face that I can't describe and can't be captured with badly drawn Paint drawings… Then he dumps his sister’s tiny little pets onto the floor and jumps onto the couch, screaming and encouraging her to jump with him, when I yell at her to stop he starts yelling at her too, then giggles madly when she stares to cry and whine and I glare at him. After that he starts running up and down the hall way, yelling, until she goes, too. All the while the Terror smiles and giggles like the most adorable child ever, calling after him happily, “Brother! Brother!” She's all too eager to follow the Spawn's ever move, openly defying me when I try to make them stop.

"Brooootheeeer..."

 Once the Spawn has started, he can’t be stopped. He’ll just grin and giggle in this tittering voice and insult me, the Terror cheerfully repeating whatever he says. The louder I get, the more he laughs and insults, and the more the Terror gets out of my control…

He even got her to stop eating to do all this...

 He tried something new, this time, though. When he heard his dad get out of the shower he raced to the end of the hallway and crowed triumphantly, “Daaad! Kit’s being mean to me!”

My heart fluttered wildly with fear, but I grinned, knowing he had messed up. While I still look like a teenager, I’m an adult, charged with controlling the Terror from descending  into chaos, and his dad knew that. So all I had to do was call down the hallway, “Yeah, if being mean means telling him to stop using bad language around his sister and to not jump on the couch!”

... What? I wasn't lying.

 … I won the battle against the Spawn today, he was grounded… but I know I haven’t won the war... Mostly 'cause the Terror was an even worse Terror after the Spawn left with his dad...

... Victory comes at a heavy price.