School holidays bend my freaking head.
The loungeroom is set up like some gamers paradise. Chairs with cushions and empty glasses everywhere. Subtle gun fire can be heard until 1am as my son and his friend play endless hours of Call of Duty online with the world and static voices coming through with American twang and Australian slang. Fuckhead, dickhead, wanker can be heard as they all scream at each other for doing the wrong thing by their team. Thankfully my son does not have a headset 'cause I told him that if I ever heard him swear like that he would be banned from leaving the house until the age of 21.
And to give you some indication as to how much I have lost my mind, I stayed up with my boy the other night giving him tactical advice and what guns he should be using for each situation. Yep, I sat down with my boy and yelled at him like a drill sergeant. "That gun is too heavy, get something lighter. Closer range with high impact, get an Uzi and have a hand gun ready for one on one close range. Now stop! Look around you. Keep cover! Keep cover your back is exposed. Stay low to the ground. Assess your environment, listen for enemy fire. Yep, now GO, GO, GO!!!! My God, what have I been reduced to. I have no idea if I was telling him the right thing, but it felt right at the time and strangely, he seemed to appreciate it. He kind of looked at me like I was some affectionate psycho.
And then I have to put up with his mates swearing even though the rule is "no fucking swearing!"
. Yes I am a glorious hypocrite. So I yell down the stairs "Watch your language, son".
My symmetry is all put out, having anxiety trying to at least keep the stimming down to a minimum so my sons friends don't realise just how bent I am and trying to accommodate food requirements. Walking in circles and having a good hand flap seems to be the only thing getting me through.
Sweet Jesus, I am stressed the fuck out.
Loup
(Sorry, just had to break up the paragraph. Couldn't read my own stupid writing. Too many words put together)
