I'm starting to think that maybe I'll end up in a very unpleasant nursing home. Alex made the bad decision to sit on the arm of the couch and fell backwards, landing on the handle of his newly-remodeled light saber (ouch). He cried out in pain and I went to investigate, thinking that his injuries always sound worse than they actually are. Turns out I wasn't wrong in this case. I said, "Wow, that was a dumb thing to do," and Alex immediately insisted that it wasn't very nice of me to 1) use the word, "dumb," and 2) use it in relation to him. So I apologized and he gave me his how-dare-you-not-think-everything-I-do-is-wonderful look. This incident, coupled with yesterday's rant about how he doesn't need me anymore because he can do everything himself and how much I bother him by standing nearby to watch him do things (like put on his seat belt properly) AND how I need to be more patient (something I'm constantly telling him)...not to even mention that this morning he told me that he already knows everything, so why do I keep telling him?...gives me the impression that there's a poorly-run old folks' home in my future.
On a different note, I still feel tired and angry/irritated, but I've decided that I'm okay and not sinking into the pits of depression again. Despite the fact that I am the negative self-talk queen, I have managed to think of some concrete examples of how okay I am:
1- I actually said something about not feeling well instead of going into full-fledged denial.
2- I'm still making it to work on time, if not slightly early (a HUGE deal for me!).
3- I know that I won't feel this way forever.
4- I make positive comments to George to note his improvements- so that shows I'm feeling hopeful.
There is hope. I'm okay.
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