When I gently remind him that we need to do things, like "shower" or "get on the train", he shrugs me off. Then I have to stand between him and the TV, unplugging his Xbox and throwing his clothes in his lap, panicked at how late we are. He hates that. He calls me unprintable names and then I have to wrestle him to the ground and put him in the goddamn shower, because, so help me god, one of us needs to go to work.
The thing about Terrence (his name is Terrence) is that he's very persuasive. And Terrance is wearing me down.
Today I started off full of great intentions. I made some hippie tea and did some yoga! Today was gonna be an adult day starring adult impulse control!
Then good ol' Terrance stomped in, and demanded a coffee and a latte and a bunch of candy and some leftover Indian food, and, well, I caved. I'm just too tired to fight him.
Now Terrance is back in front of his Xbox, slack jawed, and I'm canceling plans to stay in and nurse my sick stomach.
Don't you "shush" me, Terrence. You're the worst.
Your poetic. I've had CFIDS for 19 years (hey, he's a &^%$#! teenager!) and I know him all too well. CFS comes with the special gift of minor chronic digestive issues. Mmmmmm SUGAR and COFFEE.
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