Welcome to the Complainable COMPLAINTS of 2015. I am your guest host of this blog post, Partial/incomplete Monochrome Persona, or PiMP. Full Spectrum Mama usually takes the free time afforded her by my guest posts to
sleep and grade and eat the necessary chocolate to prepare to teach long,
hopefully non-boring philosophy lectures travel to exotic locales where she
combines saintly deeds with sybaritic indulgences. So here we are, just you and
me, dear reader…ready?
Almost a year ago, following 2014’s COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT, PiMP got a COMPLAINT for apologizing to a Complainant about something cruddy in their life. This Complainant argued that such soothing and comforting hogwash was not PiMP’s way and I agree. Here, COMPLAINTS are about being heard -- not being answered sweetly or fixed, especially when THE COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT (TCD) is only officially open one day a year (on the 32nd of Nevruary).
This year, your COMPLAINTS are all jumbled together, from pathos to bathos, giggles to grumpers, from COMPLAINTS about difference to COMPLAINTS about conformity to COMPLAINTS about, well, shopping…
We accept ALL acceptable COMPLAINTS here at TCD, and then we COMPLAIN them; although sometimes, people, you should stop flapping at the jib in public.
* Let us begin with a deceptively innocuous COMPLAINT from FSM herself, who has shared many of her COMPLAINTS in previous posts, although she is saving up some doozies: I could be doing any kind of housework and the kids are nowhere to be seen but the instant I reach into my secret [medically-necessary] candy stash -- “What are you doing, mom?” – here they come!
* My complaint is I am too overly busy to complain.
* Online adoption groups that act all surprised that people are curious about inter-racial families.
* This. Winter.
* In dealing with the oh so numerous challenges of adult life (single parenting, chronic illness, work stress, etc.), as the parent of a child on the spectrum, I am held to an absurdly high standard. Spectrum-y kids use their parents as a barometer, often co-regulating off of us, so we can never, ever lose it, or even falter a little, without throwing a wrench into an already challenging situation.
(NB: Neither Full Spectrum Mama nor PiMP wrote the above COMPLAINT?!)
* Some special angel who has a son with Sensory Processing Differences sent PiMP an entire LIST of COMPLAINTS – MWAH!
Complaint #1: I HATE that he bites his hand. It drives me CRAZY!!!
Complaint #2: I HATE that he hits our puppy when he gets mad at her. She is a puppy and when she chews on something of his or tries to steal his food, he hits her causing her to go into attack mode.
Complaint #3: I HATE that he jumps up and down, biting his hand and holding onto his sister's head. Oh...and she hates that too.
Complaint #4: I HATE that we have no OT services in our area and have to try and make time to do all of it at home (except for the 30 minutes per week through the school district).
Complaint #5: I HATE how I feel like I am ridiculed for my parenting skills.
Complaint #6: I HATE unsolicited advice.
Complaint #7: My biggest complaint is that I still don't know or completely understand all of his triggers and what will send him into meltdown mode.
* My biggest complaint is the school system in ignoring undiagnosed children who have obvious learning disabilities, and blowing them off
* Competitive Parenting
* The magnetic force that draws children/husbands toward their mother/wife when said mother/wife most wants to be alone.
* The crust that forms on maple syrup bottles after a few weeks and makes it impossible to close the cap all the way.
* Not having time to head outside to enjoy that heartachingly beautiful hour between 2-3pm on a sunny winter afternoon.
* Not being able to prevent pine needles from getting everywhere when you take the Christmas tree out, and having to do it anyway.
* Mucus. The sidewalks and stairs to and from my workplace, restaurants and shopping areas are all dappled with glistening puddles of sluggy oysters in such concentration that it's nearly impossible to preserve ones shoes. Men of the earth: it should not be news that this makes you more a vector of viral plague than a testosterone bomb. I am not convinced of your genetic superiority by the volume of sputum you produce. Furthermore, It is uncivilized to leave a trail of bodily fluids in your wake. Please knock it off. Just swallow it already. Keep your contagion to yourself.
* Husbands who are so Modern/Liberated that they don't mind their wives bringing in most of the income.
* People who stop their cars to force you to jaywalk on their terms. Dear Driver: My skilled sense of timing was finely honed by the great city of Boston. I am not a squirrel. I need neither your permission nor your help. So, piss off. I'll cross when I feel like it.
* I hate oatmeal. I hate it. Every morning. Healthy. Disgusting. Hate hate oatmeal.
* People who say "no problem" instead of thank you , or you are welcome. This isn't new, and it is getting worse!
* My son with Asperger's is just starting to understand the subtleties, ups and downs, and fluidity of friendship. I am thrilled -- that's not my complaint. My complaint is that he is looming on the cusp of puberty, and the rules he has worked so hard to learn and understand are about to start changing and shifting at a crazy fast rate. I don't think he can keep up. Not only that, but before he got the hang of friendship, he wouldn't have cared. The double-edged sword of helping my kid to a higher functioning level is that now he will notice and care more when he is not successful.
* I hate it when you are paying for something and the cashier asks you if you would also like "something else." Why would you? Or asks u if you want to contribute to the supermarket charity? No I want to pay for my @/&;@$ item.
* Not enough snow [flag: unacceptable COMPLAINT]
* Non-stop Christmas music -
Including the Salvation Army ringing the bell before Thanksgiving and you feel guilty because they are nice to you.
* Supermarkets don't want to double bag and the managers come over to tell the staff not to and the bags are thinner than ever.
* Men's bathrooms run out of soap all the time and how are the employees washing their hands?
* Professional offices where they have the large TVs on with news blaring.
* When you buy newspapers and they have all the ads and flyers in them, or when you buy a magazine and they have all those subscription things in them, and they all fall out.
* Cereal boxes that are hard to open inside and you rip them and the cereal explodes.
* I think we should find the person who invented the halogen headlight for automobiles, strap him to a chair, tape his eyelids open & force him to witness the birth of a star... From six feet away. Because that's what my drive home is like.
* Having my early morning time (that I only take once in a blue moon) invaded by breakfast needing children would certainly be high on the list if I was compiling it today.
* Parenting a special needs child can put a hell of a lot of strain on a romantic relationship. Mine didn't survive it (the relationship, I mean -- the kid is thriving). Undoubtedly, there were other reasons the relationship fell apart, and I will never regret putting my children first, and parenting my children is the most important thing I have ever done -- but I just needed to complain about how hard on a relationship it can sometimes be to parent these wonderful, challenging, different kids.
* My friend received her new “County Gardens Magazine” on 3/13, while I received mine several days later.
* You are the only parent at every school event, every meeting every everything. Your ex calls during one such event – an event you have notified him of several times even though you yourself only know about it from investigation and hearsay – and leaves a message saying he just got your message and nobody ever tells him anything and so naturally he is not at said event, because it is your fault. Because, you know, he is very special and should be sought out and personally informed by both you and your child’s large, urban school, of every event that might interest him.
Then your kid asks if he can call his father, so of course you say yes. He tells his father, “Sorry you were unable to make it. I love you.” And gets off the phone. Then your kid says, “Isn’t dad awesome?” And you crack: “You know who’s awesome?” you say, “the person who drives you everywhere, who attends every event you have ever been part of, every meeting, every school supply trip, every, everything. And you know who else is awesome? the kid who forgives someone who lets him down! THAT is who is awesome!”
Later, you say. “Yes, honey, your dad is awesome.” And your kid says, “You used to think he was awesome, didn’t you?” and you say, “When I married him I did, but…and I still do. And he loves you very much.”
* With three sons I worry about each one having the same struggles the oldest one has. It took until he was in middle school for him to get a diagnosis.
* Dear Complaint Dept.,
I have diarrhea. And I am at work. Every time I run to the loo and attempt to achieve a modicum of relief, two people walk in. I’m outraged, bloated, embarrassed and lurching.
* People are so in search of acceptance and approval.
This concludes the COMPLAINTS for 2015.
It’s never too early to begin feeling outraged for 2016 – so bear in mind that while TCD is rarely open per se, COMPLAINTS are always being reviewed for possible acceptability at email@example.com.
Partial/incomplete Monochrome Persona
Factotum, THE COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT
Guest writer/Troubleshooter @ Full Spectrum Mama