Saturday, Apr. 20, 2019 - 6:06 p.m.

1. Mom comes over to help. Tells me to go somewhere and relax for a little while. I am feeling like it is too late so I say I am going upstairs until 6pm. At 5:35 kids are fighting and she comes and pounds on the door and yells “IIIIII am going HOME! I am too old to be playing referee to a couple of little kids!”

She doesn’t go home. It was just to make them feel bad so they would be good. Or to get me to come down and handle it.

I go and act compassionately toward U. I listen to his side. I don’t let him destroy anything, but I hold him.

She had tried to unilaterally impose a fair solution and shockingly! It hadn’t worked.

2. She asks me have I heard what happened with E yesterday. No, I said. “He painted his entire face with pudding. I admit I lost it. I suppose I should have laughed at him instead.” “Why didn’t you just say, Oh, I see you have pudding on you, now let’s go wash you up”? “Oh, I washed him up. I feel so bad, being rough with him like that and all, but he came back and climbed in my lap after. He just always comes back no matter what.”

Those are the options. Handling him roughly or mocking him. I guess we see the battle I fight, and where I inherited it from.
She brought asparagus and breakfast sausage and now I am supposed to cook it but I don’t want to have to.

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