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11.23.2006

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.

11.22.2006

The baby is sick again. This time the doctors aren't entirely sure if she's got a cold gone bad or contracted RSV. She wheezy in the lungs, coughing up gobs of gunk (then delightfully chewing it up and swallowing it much to my disgust) and sneezy and snotty. To top it off she's got not one tooth coming in as we originally thought but four, two top and two bottom, trying to come in at once. Overall she's in great spirits but when the gums are aching, her chest is hurting from barking so much and she's just had her fill of the constant stream of breathing treatments, liquid steroids, cold meds, Tylenol, Orajel, and other assorted treatments watch out. Tiny fists ball up in rage and the war cry sounds from those gunked up lungs. In less than a week she's learned to not just avoid the mask for the nebulizer by twisting her head from side to side, but she also hits (repeatedly), kicks, and thrashes her body like she's riding a wild stallion in a rodeo. Funny, but incredibly frustrating. And all the steroids get her hyped up so that now around 3 in the morning she regularly gets up for a chat about the mysteries of life and this vast world she's encountered. It'd be so endearing at any time other than the early morning hours. She'll sit in my lap and wheezily utter a cacophony of syllables with complete sincerity. Then she'll giggle as if she's told the best joke in the world before dissolving into a wet sounding 80 year old smoker cough.

Notice I'm trying to avoid saying the obvious: I'm butt assed tired.

Jaalyn on the other hand is still full of herself. I honestly wish I could get just one day to spend with her, just me and her, so that I can show her how much she means to me and that I'm not always this shrew yelling No! Stop! Don't! Argh! I realize how much I fuss even as the words leave my mouth. And I do try not to yell. But it's just stumping me how 5-going-on-15 year olds can make you blow your cool in the blink of an eye. I have this thing with people and kids behaving like the have absolutely no sense. It drives me crazy. For example, I can ask Jaalyn to put on her school shoes (keep in mind that she only has one pair). She will look at the ceiling, in her toy chest, under the bed and downstairs... when the shoes were right beside her feet (they were actually touching the side of her foot) the entire time. That sort of foolishness irks me to no end. I know it's a phase. I know I need to show patience. I know that there's a better way to handle the situation. But what do I do? I get angry, I lose my cool and I yell. Next thing you know she's in tears and I'm alternately pissed and ashamed. But... I'm getting better. I promise.

Emotionally... oh boy. Break out the roller coaster stereotype. I've been thinking about relationships past a lot lately. You know how it is when you reminisce and only the good memories come back to you and you're like Damn! I really miss _____. Each time I reminisce I give myself the mental slap in the face that all those past relationships weren't a bed of roses. But oddly enough the one past relationship I have trouble giving myself the mental bitch smack over is my marriage. Because the truth is the marriage itself really wasn't that bad. The circumstances of how we came to be married put stress on the marriage but I have to admit, in the beginning life was good. At the end life was still pretty good. But, eh, it's over and done with now and if I had to do it all over again... I would... oh hell who am I kidding? I wouldn't.

I dunno. I'm tired and just a wee bit lonely for some adult time. Not necessarily sexual, althought that would be nice too, but what I wouldn't give for some good conversation that doesn't consist of a) man-bashing (imagine that... me sick of man bashing) b) children or child related things or c) the antics of other people I (we) know. Conversation of that sort is about as stimulating as flossing.

But as much as I long to be held, conversed with and subsequently bedded (in the dark... under about 14 comforters... with a corset to hide the baby fat tummy and a sturdy bra to prevent those inconvenient leaky boobs. Wow, just killed the mood didn't I?), conversely I don't want any of that and just want some time for me, with me. As delightful as it would be to be able to go out with the girlfriends for drinks and a good time, or to go out on a real (real!) date with Mr. I'm-not-as-big-a-fuck-up-as-you-thought-and-by-the-way-I'm-REALLY-single, I'd be just as happy with the kids at the grandparents house, a lovely takeout meal from my favorite restaurant and a hot bath with soothing salts and lighted candles sans bath toys followed by a nice boring evening in which I can read my huge pile of unread magazines (National Geographic! Southern Living! Better Homes and Gardens! Boring I am! And proud of it dammit.) and make passionate love to my DVR chock full of Most Haunted, Clean House and Chef at Home episodes.

And... my confession for this entry**... all this thinking about having someone special in my life came from a recent lunch date with an old friend/coworker. He's not my type (read: married, arrogant and MY height) but knowing that he wanted to see me, spend time with me and yes, woo me over a lunch of my choosing made me feel good. Made me feel the faint glimmer of sexiness and slightly attractive. I'd never consider embarking on yet another illicit relationship with a married/taken/she's-not-really-my-girlfriend-we've-just-been-together-for-2-years dude but just the fact that someone saw me as a person -not a mom, not a conquest but an actual person with interests outside the realms of sex and parenting- it was such a refreshing experience.

**Since this is Confessions of a Single Supermom I figure I ought to live up to the title, no? So for each entry I'll confess at least on thing most people probably didn't know previously. Could be a tantalizing tidbit. More likely it'll be a boring addition to the post.

11.15.2006

Teething Bites...




I am so fucking tired.


I am so sick of saying that I'm tired.


The baby woke at 3 this morning and has been asleep a total of 2 whole hours since then. (** It is now 4:05 p.m.) Funny. I can remember Jaalyn hitting the same stage at a later age and I thought it was cute. Trinity woke this morning all bright eyed and bushy tailed just ready to gum on the world. She squealed and shrieked and talked up a storm before settling down to watch an episode of Clean House. And she would not go back to sleep. 3 am people. 3 o'clock in the fucking morning. I've been up since then and I've been a zombie all day. I'm cranky and bitchy and despite the fact that I get off work in less than an hour my day is really just getting started. I've got to get off work, get the baby, get Jaalyn, stay for the PTO pizza dinner and meeting, stay for the goddamned book fair I promised to take Jaalyn to and stay for the parade committee meeting because in my delerium one day I signed Jaalyn up for the stupid Christmas parade next month. All that shit crammed in between the hours of 6-8pm and beyond. Then I get to go home, nurse the baby, get J in bed, wash bottles, mix formula, pack lunches, wash/fold a load of clothes and on and on.

And so despite being totally exhausted I'm doing this half assed post to satisfy those of you that cared enough about me to inquire where the hell have I been the past two weeks.


Trinity has been teething like crazy and gnawing on everything in sight including, and not limited to:


1. my fingers
2. her toes
3. my glasses
4. anything else she can get
her hands on.





And so... it started like this...




Then went to this...



And this...


But usually she's like this...





My little ray of sunshine. And yes this is from Halloween of this year (obviously since she was microscopic this time last year).




And I can't forget her Diva-ness...

My God. Aren't they gorgeous? I am so vain when it comes to my kids. My every reason for living and breathing.**


**And for getting up at three o'clock in the fucking morning. Dammit.






















11.04.2006

Hell Hath No Fury Like A Pissed Off Mama...

I am so fed up with damn near everyone and everything around me. I simply can't take it anymore and I am about to blow. Remember the old school rap
"Don't push me, cause I'm close to the edge..."? Well, I'm not in danger of losing my head but several others around me are about to roll. Let's tackle each one by one shall we?

1. Baby Daddy (BD) - Now you knew he'd be numero uno. I don't ask much of him. I admit I am a very demanding woman, but with him I am almost lackadaisical. Long as he's not late with child support, I've long since ceased making demands upon him. I simply don't have it in me to fight anymore. But... while I do get