Tag Archives: Bad day

I’m hurting

Today I’m going to interrupt the theme and darken the mood because today, quite frankly, I feel like shit.  Awful stinky curry shit. Kebab shit.

Once again, for those of you who do not like negativity or feel you may be triggered by someone whinging, please look away now.

Ok…

You.

Yes you. The only one left reading.  Get a cuppa and then lend me your eyes and some sympathy while I feel sorry for myself.

I’m hurting because I’m exhausted.

I’m hurting because of the injustice I have been served in a pathetic situation which is not even my fucking problem.

I’m hurting because I’m reminded every time one of my kids misbehaves and I tell them off how close I am to having Social Services on my case FOR A CRIME I DID NOT COMMIT!

I’m hurting because my organisation has failed and the house is once again looking like we have been burgled.

I’m hurting because once again work gave me renewed hope and havent even bothered to inform me I haven’t been successful so I am left in limbo.

I’m hurting because my coccyx injury is twinging and it makes me feel sick.

I’m hurting because I pretty much constantly feel sick anyway.

I’m hurting because playgroup didn’t hold the door open for me so I had to struggle out with L clinging to one hand and a car seat, bookbag and artwork in the other.

I’m hurting because every driving error is my fault.

I’m hurting because an idiotic man swore at me as he almost ran over my kids (we were walking back to the car in the carpark and he was going forwards!!)

I’m hurting because the fucking roadworks are a headache and chore every single day.

I’m hurting because every car journey has a screaming sound track.  Every night has the same tune. Someone change the record already.

I’m hurting because she starfished in the carseat in the carpark and I screamed.  I’m fully waiting a telling off.

I’m hurting because even though they are both asleep I know I won’t be able to sleep.

I’m hurting because I can’t do more.

I’m hurting because I want to be likeable and pleasant and positive but I mostly feel anti-social, bitchy, and negative.

I’m just hurting.

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Crappy Christmas

It’s not even Christmas day yet and things have gone down the shitter.

There are family things going on so the normal Xmas eve gathering is cancelled.

The Toddler actually wants to fight about everything. 

O is teething.

OH and I have already spent too long in each others’ company and are bitching at each other. He’s been home one day.

OH bought me an EEE pad and I don’t like it.  Not ungratefully. I’m just disappointed by it so far and will probably stick to one finger typing on my phone.  Sigh.

It’s definitely me.

Is it her…or me?

Every time we have a change in our schedule she loses the plot.  As it’s the Christmas holidays, we’re not going to groups and she’s not going to pre-school so I have to find things to entertain her.  As she’s not entertained by watching me knit, feed O or type snippets of novel on my phone, we’re screwed.

She’s just naughty. Well, she’s what I would consider to be naughty.  Everything has become a fight.

First thing this morning I struggled to dress her as she kicked me in the stomach and winded me by throwing her head back against my chest.  She “starfished” when getting into the pram to go to the shops. (“Starfishing” is where a Toddler goes into a stiff star shape when you’re trying to put a five-point harness on them.  It normally happens when you’re in front of at least three other parents.) She threw her blanket on the floor in Sainsburys.  She tantrumed because I didn’t buy her a princess book.  She screamed because we didn’t have lunch in the cafe.  She dropped toys on her brothers head.  She fell off the box after I told her not to play on it.  She ran with scissors.  She stuck cellotape to everything.  She refused to have her nappy changed after she pooped. She threw crayons all over the floor. She was just horrid.

Then I screamed at her.

I cannot stand her ignoring me when I talk to her.  I cannot stand her looking at me blankly then doing it anyway. I cannot stand not being in control.

Which is probably why she does it.

See, I forget sometimes that there isn’t “control.”  There is choice. She can choose to obey.  She’s not programmed to do as I say. A lot of the time she won’t want to do what I say.

I know this because she is so like me we are almost the same person.

Is she my mothers’ revenge?

Failday friday

After the disaster that was bedtime Thursday, I’ve had a super shit day.

Well, actually, apart from feeling like a crappy parent, the day hasn’t been awful except…

I counted up my mat leave. I only have two weeks left then I’m officially on holiday.

Yes, shit.

So I had to speak to my boss. He wants me to go in for a meeting. Now I have to go through the motions in order to hopefully get them to agree another 13 weeks mat leave at smp.  I’m disheartened, demoralised and tired.

I just want to look after my kids, write my blog, dabble with my novel, knit, massage and look after mamas.

We can’t always get what we want. 

The price of stress

I’m paying for it.

I’m literally falling to pieces at the moment.

I can’t say I was suffering from depression (although my outlook is as bleak), or any other physical ailment (although I’m exhibiting symptoms of many ills.

So far this week, I’ve had a panic attack which caused three hours of sever nausea and OH’s mother to worry that there was something wrong with her cooking (I still feel bad about this), my OH has taken no end of me shouting at him because he’s still the sam and my tolerance for his “same-ness” is even less than normal, and then today I feel like I have been beaten round the head, taken a few punches to the face and had all my limbs broken.

Ok, I exaggerate, but I am struggling to keep my eyes open.  Moving actually hurts.  I do feel like someone has taken a vacuum and just sucked everything out of my head apart from a big red ball filled with all the things going wrong at the moment.  In the process, they seemed to have removed my capacity to eat without feeling sick and to provide the rest of my body with the energy necessary to run around after two small children.

I have no idea how I will be coping this week.

I’ll start with regular doses of caffeine, painkillers and chocolate and see how I get on.

One big fail

That’s what today was.

I was just thinking I had run out of event based blog material and was in the process of typing up my notes…then today came along, ran me over, ground into reverse gear, and did it again.

This morning was a mummys and babies and toddler group. I couldn’t face it. However, this meant that by lunchtime she was climbing the walls, so we couldn’t refuse OHs sisters offer of tea and cake.

Well, if you’ve been reading the blog regularly, you’ll know that the old Phil & Teds has been digging it’s own grave via my hatred for a while. Today, I chucked it in. Ive known for a while that the doubles kit was giving out, but today, she was sat on his legs. Terrified of a trip to a & e for toddler induced trauma, I headed back home and pulled out the gaffa tape.  I used to be an expert with the stuff so fixing this chair so it didn’t sag two inches below where it should sit should be a doddle.

I then had to feed and change O before attempt 2 at leaving the house.  I must mention at this point I had the rain cover on but decided the sun cover (which was in the car) would be better.  I opened the boot, pulled the sun cover out, closed the boot…and realised my fucking keys were locked inside.

Cue panicked (unanswered) calls to OH (lodger was also out).

I began to head for OHs sisters, and got partway there before O started howling. I checked him and found my fixit had failed and she was once again resting precariously on his legs.

Of course, she pickec that point to start jumping up and down in the seat.

I left a message for OH who then had to come home from work and came back and let myself in the back garden.

I was furious. Mostly at myself for being a total fuckwit and locking my keys in the car. Partly at OH because he wasn’t the one stuck outside with a tired Toddler feeling his blood pressure rising.  And because he would never get to experience that joyous feeling of losing control of your children and branding yourself worlds worst parent.  I was a bit pissed off with the Toddler too for being relentless, threatening to dunk herself in the huge puddle, going headfirst down the slide, climbing on the chairs, picking up stones, climbing on toys on the rock hard patio etc etc.

It culminated in her having a screaming hissy fit while I shouted at her and the neighbours called over the fence…and OH opened the back door.

I was absolutely exhausted. I came in and O and I cuddled (she didn’t want to join us) and phased in and out on the sofa while she hassled daddy and tore my notebook to pieces using one of my new biros.

Her nappy change was a battle. She kicked me, she put her hands in it, she tried to roll over…I had had enough.

Then, I opened my eyes and found her wandering around with no nappy on, announcing she was pooing and pissing all over the carpet.

So I decided I didn’t want to see her until the morning.  Until I had calmed down. It’s bad enough we are now trapped here as I refuse to use that pushchair.  It’s worse that we still don’t know what is going on with the CM. I just needed space.

I came to bed. He bathed her and then let her in here woth me. We ate cake (skant consolation) and I made him put her to bed.  He guilt tripped me about that.

What a shit day. I’m going to sleep the fail away.

Baby jabs part 2

Monday.  World renown for being a typically shit day.

And last Monday…well, it had good bits and bad bits.

I should explain that O was due to go for his jabs that day and that I had already had a palavar booking them. I didn’t get a chance to go and do the forms with the surgery until he was just over 4 weeks which is probably why this whole confusion has occurred.  Well, I expect that’s what they’ll tell me anyway.

Jabs were booked for Monday. 6 week check for Thursday.

Back to Monday.

I psyched myself up.  It’s always nerve-wracking when they have jabs because they tend to howl. Its worse if you have to hold them down.  Even though I have done multiple injection sessions with my eldest, I still get butterflies.

I parked the car outside my mums house and walked up to the surgery, then went round to the room they put by specifically for baby injections on a Monday.

I waited, chatted to a couple of mums, chatted to the student nurse who has been shadowing my health visitor, then got called in.  I handed over his red boon and the nurse asks me if I’ve had his 6 week check.

I said no…and they said they can’t do any immunisations until the check has been done.

Argh! Why wasn’t this picked up when I phoned up? Why had I still not received a reminder about the 6 week check anyway?  Had I been a first time mum, I may not have even known that a 6 week check was necessary. Poor service I believe. Oscar was 9 weeks on the 2nd of August. Only three weeks too late.

Sadly this is not the first time I have fallen off the system.  In February, when I was about 25 weeks pregnant, I received a smear reminder.  Sigh.  Just sigh.

Oscar successfully had his check and jabs on Thursday, and thanks to the lovely Sister, he is also booked in for his next lot of injections. See, these things don’t have to be complicated!