Mommy Meltdown Part XXV

The baby is a bit better today; juicy cough, mucus flowing, 3 am chats, you know the norm. I'm grumpy today (imagine that). I hate the holidays. I mean I absolutely detest them. It's like ever since I was a little girl the holidays have always been an indescribable nightmare. My folks have never exactly gotten along and any special occasion where they had to spend more than an hour in one another's presence made for a very uncomfortable situation for all. Eventually fights would ensue, grudges would be held, objects thrown, women beaten... you know, the typical holiday fracas. Didn't matter the occasion, be it Christmas or a birthday, it was always the same drill. Nowadays they (meaning my parents) are better behaved, primarily because of the children. Okay, primarily because I threatened to never let them see my children again should they ever make the mistake of putting my kids through the drama they put me through. Anyway, bottom line: I hate holidays to this day.

So to continue chatting about my musings as of late. I had a mommy mental meltdown today. I was so distraught that I was reduced to tears of frustration. It was all I could do to keep from screaming aloud. Why all the drama and tears? I hate my home with a passion. The clutter, the trash, the... the.. EVERYTHING. I can't deal with it anymore.

You know why I am enthralled with Clean House on the Style Network? Because when I see the horrible state of those families homes it lets me know that I'm not alone. I mean we can barely walk for tripping over crap. Jaalyn's room is a disaster and mine is even worse. And the living room, the very first room you enter when coming into the townhouse is full of clean laundry needing to be folded and put away, toys, mail, magazines and endless clutter. I try to clean. I really do but it's so overwhelming. I feel a major purge coming on and I'm going to end up tossing 98% of what I own into the dumpster. If I should ever find the time. Time...

I lost it today because I couldn't find a single thing I was looking for and the main thing I needed to find was the baby's medicine. I turned the house upside-down looking for the meds and when I thought to go outside to look in the car... no keys. I couldn't find them either in all the mess in the living room. So the baby is coughing up her lungs, desperately needing a breathing treatment and I'm rapidly losing it because I can't find a damned thing I need. No medicine, no keys, no shoes to go outside once I found the keys, nothing. All the while I'm tripping over shit, throwing piles of crap all over the place. Eventually, I just fell to my knees and just wept. I just can't take it anymore. I try and try to get the house in order but I never have the time. Every spare moment is spent trying to get the house together. I come home on my lunchbreak, spend spare moments on the weekends, and even try in the evenings after work but it's just not working. This is one situation where I can honestly (gulp) admit that I have NO idea how to handle this. Yeah, imagine that. The woman with an answer for everything has no answer for her own dilemma.

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And speaking of time, or lack thereof, I've been thinking about my life since Trinity's arrival. You know I made the decision little more than a year ago to attempt to have another child and I don't regret it in the least. But the more I complain of tiredness and the lack of a support system, the more I wonder why do I complain? I mean, baby daddy and I both made the decision to have another child despite the fact that we were not/are not in a relationship together. I made the decision to become a single parent to two children. I made that decision knowing full well that I'd get no more support from friends and family and baby daddy, than before.

So let's see: no support x no support = a big fat fucking zero. Therefore, do I truthfully have the right to complain that I don't get a break, that I have zero support, or anything of that nature?

Moving on to thoughts of baby daddy; I knew before Trinity's conception that he was a royal fucktard. I knew he could never be the father to my daughter that I wanted him to be. I willingly conceived another child with him knowing he wouldn't change. Again, do I have the right to complain when he fucks up (yes) or doesn't give me the support that I feel I'm due?

After I'd had Jaalyn, after my relationship with baby daddy had dissolved, after a MAJOR mama meltdown whilst living with my parents I sat in a corner of my room, cried and outlined the type of mother I wanted to be to my little girl. I made a promise, then and there, to be fully independant of everyone and everything. And I succeeded in it from that point on. And more importantly I was ridiculously and gloriously happy. I had my baby, I had my freedom and I didn't have shit else but a pile of bills and a patch of carpet to call my own in the West End. But I was happy and I was a damned good and dedicated mom to my little one. Not surprisingly, my mother and baby daddy to issue to me being so happy and all and constantly told me I shouldn't do it that way, I was wrong, etc. So I began to change. And now... I kinda think that I ought to get back to that point. Not saying I should 100% absorb myself with my children, because that's just not healthy; a gal needs her adult time too, no matter how small of a percentage. But I need to come back to the realization that I don't have a support system, that I really won't ever get a break (at least no time soon) and I need to learn to be just fine with it.

I want to redefine my version of motherhood. The old way just isn't going to cut it now that I have two anklebiters around. I need to clean house for real; mentally, spiritually and physically.
Mentally and spiritually shouldn't be a problem. Physically... oh boy.