Having week from hell
Desperate need of sillies
Haiku serves need well.

Sammy hates to poop.
(Don't discuss much; it's private.)
Doc gives laxative.

Bloody poops now gone,
but oh! The humanity!
Poop now everywhere!

I say, "Use potty,
please!" He says, "No way, Jose."
True loss, I am at.

(I discover new
trigger. Gruesome poo-poo mess
makes me lunatic.)

Hubby working hard.
New project at work gives him
headaches and foul mood.

Then he took this test
and scored a cool forty points.
He and I not shocked.

We're all pretty sure
He has Asperger's Syndrome.
Makes connecting hard.

What else, what else? Well,
I break vinegar bottle,
Bathing kitchen in

Easter egg scent (Am
I permitted to dovetail
like that? Judge not, y'all!);

I repeatedly
forget laundry in machine - overnight, even.

Can't plan a meal to
save my own life, so Eric
has to be head cook.

Recurring nightmares
involving torture, brutal
death, keep me from rest.

Gabe's new talent for
anticipating events
makes for nightly fun;

He whines for PJs,
screams when I turn off the lights,
freaks when we lie down.

This kid has great lungs.
Generally happy, but
Hollers in his sleep.

(I kid you not! He's
floppy, dead weight, dreaming, and yelling in my ear.

I sit him upright,
Call his name ("Gabriel! Hey!") -
On and on, he gripes.)

Darn it! Darn it! Drat!
Sam's preschool just called to say,
"Come pick up sick kid."

Away I must fly.
This entry must be cut short.
I remain a grump.