My name is Barry Special &
I’m a ‘Stress a holic’!!
Whilst getting the hoards ready
for school this morning I realised something about Barry. Given his penchant for highly stressful
situations, I have discovered that when he finds himself in the midst of a
‘well oiled machine’, that being our kitchen on any given weekday morning
(minus the screaming & toast throwing!!), he cannot cope. So, like many an addict before him, he feels
compelled to inject a comment or allude to a scenario that, without doubt, projects
said ‘well oiled machine’ into the stratosphere of chaos.
Now, if it were just myself &
our third born spawn, this would not present as a problem….because, he would
most likely be told to “bugger off”, but, he always makes sure he projects these
little nuggets of stress, chaos & mayhem around our first born spawn, who
has inherited her father’s love of
panicking & catastrophizing & like him (& many who have come
before her), begins the ‘dance of distress’ over not only completely normal
stress free situations, but imaginary events that haven’t even happened yet,
& most likely never will, because it’s all in their head. When I point this out, it never goes down
well, so I just go back to my friends, ham, cheese & vegemite & make a
mental note to add an extra splash of vodka to my orange juice the following
morning!!
Lucky for me I have been given
the role of ‘police negotiator’ in our family & so, on any given day, have
the job of talking these crack pots (love you!!) down from the ledge, or at least
the ledge that they have created which is probably full of cracks & liable
to crumble & fall at any given moment.
But not to worry, as I’ll be down below holding out the large cushiony
thing you see in movies, to catch them when they fall. I’m quite the multi tasker!! J
But what to do?
Barry is easy to deal with…one
steaming cup of sarcasm served alongside a warm slice of antagonism & he’s
off & out the door! First-born spawn
however, is a different matter. So I initially
adopted the tried & true remedy of grossly exaggerating the possible
outcomes of a scenario that only existed in her head. For example when she was panicking about the
possibility of there being a storm & heading for shelter (under the bed), I
would chime in with, “yes, the cows will probably be blown away & our roof
may well blow off (this worked until our neighbours roof actually did blow off,
which really only made matters worse!).
The new tack I have taken does
seem to be working & it goes a little like this, “if you keep panicking
like this you’ll end up with wrinkles like me & look like an old softball
mitt by the time you’re thirty”, (I say this whilst pointing to my face), &
so far, so good, it seems to be working…& I’m off to get Botox injections!!
Barry, however, sad to say, has
gone beyond the point of no return, & so I find myself regularly serving up
those steaming mugs of sarcasm, with the occasional spoonful of cement &
lament a time ‘BB’ (Before Barry), when breakfast was relaxing, I didn’t speak
to kitchen appliances & no one threw toast, (although mum did throw a
chicken once, but that’s for another time).
