scream II

Goodness, what a day. Just like any other though, in actual fact. Rush rush rush and yet, nothing at all seems to be done. Neither of us is even showered yet which, for pete's sake, is a basic human need. Inventory for the day is: uh, we vacuumed? And, I think that's about it and yet, YET! here it is, 1.45pm and this is the first chance I've had to sit down-and only because Daniel threw his chair when I didn't get his bockoowee into his gaping maw quick enough, so I decided that chair throwing boys don't get a third serve of broccoli, they get to go to bed (before their mothers disassemble them, piece by piece)

Dude is continuing his descent into probable juvenile delinquency, and I'm already halfway through today's bottle of vodka.

This mothering gig is getting a wee bit challenging, and the timing sucks because now, after nearly two years of being on call, twenty four seven, I'm finally feeling exhausted by it all. If mum heard me say that, she'd raise her eyebrows at me and say something really fucking a) stupid and b) obvious like "well, this is what parenting is all about" like I was either a) complaining or b) surprised, of which I am neither. I am, however, surprised at how quickly Daniel has snapped from being angelic and sweet to this apparent channeling of Beelzebub. I can't help but wonder what I've done to contribute to this, and all I can think of is that my modeling has sucked (I always feel like a balloon about to pop, like any straw would be the last,you know? and there's no way daniel can't be feeling the raw edges of my constant state of frazzle) and my parenting skilz suck even harder. I should be able to handle this, or at least work out what to do or why it's happening. I mean, the little jaw snapping rodent will take my hand, all sweet and loving-like, except his sole intention turns out to be putting it in his mouth to bite me. Even when he doesn't appear to be pissed, he'll go the bite. Or the hit, or the tantrum. Speaking of, he lost his shit twice on Saturday, the first time because, after taking two slices of bread out of his handy dandy ziplock bag when we were leaving the creche, I told him he needed to pick one so mummy could put the other one back. He ignored me, because he isn't even 2 yet but I had to go through the motions of allowing him choice because bla bla bla, so I put one piece back and that's when he lost his shit. For an hour. We did the Walk Of Shame out of the creche, me pushing the stroller, him walking behind me and SCREAMING. Then he lay in the corridor as I wheeled ahead of him, and I waited around the corner and waited and waited and waited, in an effort to let him work it out while I "ignored" him. It didn't work. So I wrestled him into the stroller, knee to his chest, and then we took off for the store on the way home, and he screamed the entire time, At home, he continued with this lunacy until he was exhausted, then I fed him (oh yeah, when I offered him food prior to this, thinking he might be going INSANE because he was hungry, he screamed louder and acted like I was trying to poison him, running as fast as he could away from me where he screamed some more) and he collapsed in a heap and went to sleep. For about half an hour. When he woke up and sooked until it was bed time that evening.

MY GOD.

In that entire time, I could not put him down otherwise he'd cry pitifully. I didn't know, despite the day's earlier doctor's appointment to rule out ear infection or whatever in fuck else can cause a child to morph into a demon ruling anything out, if anything was wrong, if he was in pain or whatever, so I kept on holding him and worrying he had bad gas cramps or something from the week prior's tummy upset.

I still think that I'm missing something too, that this personality shape shifting dealio isn't all behaviorally driven. I still think that, despite two doctor's visits in four days, that something is up with my little mooshie.

Then on Sunday afternoon, Strep came over to clear out the front by my carport. Like I give a crap what it looks like. I mean, sure, there's stuff there but the messy stuff like the cardboard boxes were going in the hard rubbish collection with the chairs so it's not like I was decorating with them or anything, the rest was overgrown vines and in actual fact, I quite like that jungle look. ANYWAY, he was all "let me let me" so I let him, little knowing he'd bring his daughter and I'd end up being the fucking entertainment officer all afternoon.

I know that sounds mean because she's not even thirteen yet and all, but it's not like he said "look I'll clear your yard. Tina's coming with me so would you mind if she hung with you and Daniel while I'm there?" No, he just brought her along and assumed that I'd be cool with it, and that Pisses Me OFF. I feel manipulated into spending time with them again, not a week after I'd said "won't be socialising much because I find it too stressful".

I wonder if this is PMS talking?

The weather was shitinski yesterday too, so walking was out of the question, which may explain some of today's angst. Then again, I think what explains it better is the grousing child in the next room, the evil twin he's been replaced by showing up last week, and Strep fucking up my Sunday afternoon. I HATE staying in all day, which we did because of the babysitting gig. We usually only do something boring yet entertaining enough like shop, with a possible drop in to my friend up the road, or a long drive, or SOMETHING that's not being cooped up inside, after spending all day today inside too, I'm going stir crazy.

Man, can I complain or what?

and, would you listen to that? Silence.

Is bliss.