How Can I Miss You If You Won't Leave?



I do not want to talk to
 you in person Mom, but
would love to text you
constantly about nothing.

 Go to school.  Go to school and stop texting me.  Stop texting me.  Stop calling me.  You know what, when you leave here, forget you know me.  Why can't you remember BEFORE you leave that you need a note to ride the bus home with your friend?  I don't feel like calling school and confirming it's okay.  If I am going to get up at 6:30am in the morning and make you people lunch - take it with you!!!  Why must you know now what we are eating for dinner or what time your soccer game is in 3 days?  Why don't we start playing a game called Go to school and forget you know me?  The winner doesn't get a smack when he or she arrives home from school.


And let me just throw in here that when *I* try to text people to get or give information they invariably don't have their phones charged, or with them, or turned on.  But let me not answer a text inside 10 seconds, then the house phone rings.  That ringing starts about 1 second after I think the house is empty, the coast is clear, and I close the bathroom door.


I have finally snapped and hit me this morning why.  I have Post Interruption Syndrome (PIS).  For the last almost 16 years I have so often been interrupted that I no longer know how to just relax and concentrate and DO something.  The interruptions are much worse when your kids are young, no question, but even when they start to taper off, you're still unable to get anything all the way done because you are still traumatized.

This is how PIS sufferers
feel on the inside.
Our outsides are cuter
than this guy though.

When your kids are babies you never know how long they will sleep, so it's very hard to relax and get to sleep yourself because you know as soon as you really start to relax and drift off, the crying will start.  Same goes with paying bills, taking a shower, going to the bathroom, making a phone call, answering e-mails or reading a book.   The best is when they are slightly older and you think you can take a shower or go to the bathroom when they are awake.  Not.  As soon as you are as unable as possible to quickly get back to where your kids are, there will be a loud bang and then a scream and then crying.


I have always been kind of a procrastinator, but I have started to realize things are much worse now and PIS is the problem.  I am always looking for just the "right time" to do whatever it is I need to do.  There is no right time.  No matter what I am doing or when, I will likely have to stop and go break up a fight, or make dinner, or take someone somewhere.  Or pick them up.  And then take someone else somewhere.  And pick them up.  By the time things are quiet again I won't even remember that I was in the middle of something.


As a sufferer of PIS, I never feel I will have enough time to get any task done without being interrupted so therefore I keep putting things off until the right time.  That is usually around 11pm at night.  Okay, it's quiet, everyone is sleeping, I can work undisturbed.  Except I'm tired now (another side effect).  And I no longer remember what it was I wanted to do.  If I can just get a good night's sleep I know tomorrow I will be able to focus better and get stuff done.  But then texts start first thing and I'm all nervous and worked up and distracted again.  It's a vicious cycle.  I figure I can really start to heal once both children are in college.  Hopefully, nothing urgent will come up before then.

If I can figure out how to steal
one of these I won't have to
fill out any paperwork.

I have decided to work towards making PIS more widely known and accepted and have it officially named a medical condition.  I am going to insist that I need a handicap license plate as a result.  Actually, what I would like more would be if I could get Fire Marshall tags so I can park in the fire lane, which is even better.  But, I bet you have to fill out forms or something for that and I think we know the likelihood of that getting done any time soon.