Dinner and Pigeons

Sunday. Day 2 of the weekend.

The pigeons have moved back onto my roof, under the solar panels. Despite the bird spikes, and gurneys, and coil. The pool noodles I used to block off their entrance points have perished so I just bought some gutter guard mesh to wedge under there. In theory, it won't perish, will be strong enough to block entry points. I just have to figure out how to get up there without relying on the stability of my 5 year old holding the ladder.

I don't like feeling emotional. I don't like crying. I have currently learned that some people actually do like crying because it makes them feel better. In my head, this sentence reads with a question mark. I cry because something is wrong, overwhelmingly, and the crying is admitting this. It does not help with a solution. Though, after talking to Nicole about this, she says it helps her to really get to the root of her sadness. It's been interesting food for thought for me.

And last night, I hit an emotional wall. Blame it on the lack of sleep or the cold or any other excuse, but when Ev came to the dinner table, she complained.

This is a thing. She has this dramatic flair that just about knocks me over. Her shoulders shake with theatrical sobs and her face is contorted into the twist of torture. How could I possibly serve her vegetable SOUP! She HATES soup. It goes on and on, while the 2 year old insists on sitting on the potty every 3 minutes and refuses to sit at the table and I'm tired and I just want to eat and WHY AM I RUINING HER LIFE WITH SOUP!

Now. I have this stupid, unwelcome thought that if Austin was still alive, he could possibly even have my back. Tell me that dinner is delicious. Pick Chas up and take him to the potty. Or even get mad for me, so I don't have to find the energy to tell Ev how we need to use kind words.
And I put my face in my napkin, big breath in and hold, out slowly and (whoops!) why are there burning feelings in my eyes. I don't LIKE CRYING! Now my kids are watching me cry. Ugh.

And Ev changes her tune. She starts crying loudly. She says she's sorry and I'm the best cook ever. Which is nice, its beautiful. But I'm already here, and it's hard to pull back the reins once that feeling hits. Why can't dinner just be easy?

And we finish. And bath the kids. And pyjamas and teeth and story time and all the other rituals. And I'm absolutely spent.

I decided to break the dry July attempt (ahem, again) with a glass of red and Netflix.
(I've been into that Anne with an E, season 2. She's less annoying now that I'm older. And there's a whole episode about the new progressive teacher who doesn't wear a corset and even wears pants and is single. Widowed, she says. And Anne thinks this is "tragical romance" and falls in love with this persona. In the end, she decides to become a teacher just like her and is asked "tragical romance and all?" and she smiles. So. Okay. Someone out there, even a fictitious someone, finds this particular situation to be particularly interesting. Maybe even desirable, despite being obviously undesirable. It's a strange thought to rest on. But for whatever reason, it doesn't feel quite so bad.


Edit:
Dinner was beautiful and both kids ate broccoli. So this is a win.
Also,
Pigeons have been evicted. I have attacked with mesh gutter-guard. Rolled and lanced onto the current bird spikes, which have also started to detach, which means that Liquid Nails is an example of false advertising. Ugh.

Stay tuned.