TGIM – Thank Goodness It’s Monday
I have never, ever been as glad to leave my children at daycare as I was this morning. This weekend was rough. It was a perfect storm of sick parents, sick baby, nursing strike, bad weather, messy house, and a 3 year old.
Let’s take it one at a time, shall we?
Sick parents – There are a lot of things people don’t tell you about parenthood before you create your own
evil spawn children. One of the glaring omissions? Sick days! Never again will you get to lay on the couch with a TV remote, drifting in and out of consciousness with tissues shoved in your nostrils. Nope, sick days with kids should be called, “normal days, but harder”.
Sick baby – Newsflash, sick babies don’t sleep. And they scream a lot.
Nursing strike – Ok, “nursing strike” is, perhaps, not the right term for what happened this weekend. I think “vampire baby attack” is more accurate. Let me clarify…
Ellen bit me. Multiple times. AKA at every feeding, all day Saturday. In case you’re not totally up-to-speed, she also has two shiny new teeth.
(Sorry, Granny. I didn’t know how to express that any other way.)
Each time Ellen bit me, I yanked her off my breast and yelled very, very loudly. This scared Ellen to death, and then she would scream very, very loudly. In the end, she was terrified of my breasts and would start to scream very, very loudly every single time I brought her towards my nipple to feed her.
So, 1) I could not have felt worse about scaring her, 2) How is it that I got bitten by razor sharp teeth and somehow I’m the one who felt bad?, and 3) I had to pump and give Ellen bottles all day Saturday, which is extra work/energy, and remember – I was sick and hadn’t slept. Extra work/energy was not well received.
Bad weather – This wouldn’t have been so terrible, because we live in Portland and we’re, theoretically, used to bad weather. But I refer you to the section of this post entitled “A 3 Year Old” to help you understand why being cooped up in the house wasn’t any fun at all.
Messy house – Our house is so damn cluttered it raises my stress level about 2 notches all on its own. On top of the fact that it is super cluttered, our cleaning lady cancelled on us last week. So our home has not been cleaned in ages, making it cluttered and actually dirty. These are things I could have done something about, but I would like to refer you to, well, the rest of this post for all of the reasons I did not have the energy or the time to deal with my home. Instead, I just let it sit there, messy and grubby, making me feel even worse.
A 3 year old – I think it has happened, people. I think I have finally reached the place where I don’t want any more kids. Because, at some point, kids have to be three. Apparently for a whole year. And three year olds SUCK. I can’t believe I have to do this twice. No way I’m signing up for a third round…
My once sweet, thoughtful, rule following child has turned into, for lack of a better word, an asshole (sorry again, Granny).
My darling asshole will listen to you tell him not to do something, and then look you in the eye and laugh as he immediately proceeds to do the thing you told him not to do.
My adorable turd-bucket explained to his grandmother yesterday that he has decided he won’t eat anything mommy cooks for him. (He means it too. He won’t eat a damn thing I give him. Not even a cookie.)
My beautiful jerkface hates to hear “no” so much that he acts like he is in physical pain when you dare deny him. (Imagine – thrashing around flat on the floor, screaming like a banshee. De-light-ful.)
My special little disaster likes to say “no” so much that he’ll say it before you even finish asking a question. Sometimes he’ll even start crying (actual, real crocodile tears) and saying “no”, only to realize that he really meant “yes”.
Did Kyle and I change anything to bring about this new era of Lewis-behavior? Nope! He turned into a demon seemingly overnight, all on his own. And I, personally, am at the end of my rope. It makes me feel like I must be doing something wrong.
I basically feel awful all the time now, either because I can’t figure out how to improve the situation, because I can’t figure out how the situation started in the first place, because I lose my temper and yell, or because I actually look forward to being away from my child (and I feel like I shouldn’t feel that way).
Moral of the story – 3 year olds are the pits, and I haven’t figured out how to mother mine yet. Send help. I’m dying.
Summary – The whole family did a lot of screaming/yelling this weekend, and no one felt good about it. So, I’ll end this the same way I began it:
TGIM – Thank Goodness It’s Monday