I’ve been like the walk dead today, I haven’t done a thing except try t freeze ice cubes in my bedroom. (face palm again.) The lethargy and sleepiness I’ve felt all day had me nearly nodding off but fear not…The spawn made sure I didn’t with ninety second intervals to ensure I pay attention to her demands.
It’s not yet 5 p.m. and I am bone tired and ready for my vanilla bean blankie. I need some contentment and comfort.
My kid screaming at me all day did not comfort.
The whole time I was sick she was tuned down to a three. We did fine. Now she’s maxed out the volume switch and blown up the amps.
I’m not weak or impatient. I don’t dislike my kid.
I am allergic to her tantrums. THAT is the trigger. She has no major episodes, we are good. When she goes off stomping and screaming and calling me names…THAT is my breaking point. And frankly I think it would be the breaking point for most sane people so it’s not some “I’m bipolar and weak and too sensitive to be a mom.” There’s acceptable acting out and then there’s “:get the fucking thorazine, banshee dose” acting out.
To make matters worse dad and crew visited. He started in on me immediately. Yard is a mess, car is a mess. Stepmonster was telling my kid she was dressed wrong when in fact her shirt and skirt matched and black pants match everything so who the fuck is “pour my big ass into jeans about to split at the seam and look more manly than a man” to criticize anyone’s fashion…Then dad “ordered” me, not asked nicely, to lift the car hood so he could check the fluids…Um, yeah, I’m not good at remembering that shit. He thinks it’s cos I don’t care or want it done for me but truth is…I just forget, I can’t keep up.So he gnawed off a chunk of my ass nastily, like he doesn’t make mistakes. Then he threw out, “I have to check oil and fluids every day on my truck, it’s just what we all have to do.” I fucked up, I am sorry. Does he let it go? Nope, he’ll be harping on a month from now, like I don’t feel embarrassed enough.
I’m done. Fuck it all. I am gonna feed this kid and send her to bed even if she doesn’t go right to sleep. Let her stay in there with her movie or whatever. I don’t have the resources to be screamed at anymore today. Fort blankie, here I come. Get the mortician’s wax to fill in the missing chunks of my ass dad bit off.