surviving the hard days

SURVIVING THE HARD DAYS

Today has been the definition of a hard day. It is currently half six in the evening & I am done. Done with adulting. Done with responsibility. Done with parental duties. Well, not quite but I wish. I’m trying to say this in the nicest way possible but I suddenly had the urge to write and empty my mind, today has been fucking shit. Actually, the post couple of days have been pretty shit. My anxiety has been horrendous, I just want to be left alone. By everyone. I love Teddy more than anything I can ever describe but I don’t always LOVE being a parent. & I think that is okay… right?

You just can’t catch a fucking break. Is it so wrong of me to NOT want the remote thrown at my head, a finger jabbed in my eye & a shitty nappy flung about, every five minutes? I don’t think so. How do you go about surviving the hard days?

I started work at 6am (Teddy had me up at 4am, so we were already off to a smashing start), then I came home at 12, Aaron left to do the late shift & I was left with the child. It started off so well – he had a lovely boob, we had some lunch & read some books. Around two hours later he turned into a whinging little fucker. Nothing would shut him up. I knew he was probably tired but when I tried letting him have a 20 minute power nap to get him through to bedtime, he didn’t want it. I tried getting a new toy out, he didn’t want it. I tried putting his favourite show on. He didn’t want it. He wanted FUCK ALL. It’s times like this I wish he could speak to tell me what the fuck he WANTED. Contrary to popular belief, parents aren’t mind readers.

In the space of two hours I cried three times, shouted at him, myself & the world more times than I could count and ate more food than I care admit. Mr. Kipling Cherry Bakewell’s to be precise. All whilst locking myself in the kitchen and hiding from the toddler. I HATE admitting that I shouted at Teddy. He’s a fucking baby for gods sake. But it’s so hard when you are so frustrated and I need to shout out at someone. He’s crying, i’m crying. It is all a bloody mess.

Now? Teddy is fast asleep and I am wracked with guilt. I need to be a better mum. Teddy deserves a better mum. One who has endless patience, knows exactly what is wrong & doesn’t use food to solve all her fucking problems. That & buying books. Oops. Oh fuck it, SUE ME.

You want to know what else I am doing now? Watching Bridget Jones Baby & eating a tub (yes the FULL tub) of Ben & Jerry’s (whilst thinking of other ways I can solve my problems, I promise. An hour ago I wanted to stitch my vagina up & never reproduce again. Watching Bridget have an ultrasound and seeing her baby for the first time? I’m broody as fuck and can’t wait to experience that joy again.

What a fucking joke.

I am also reading my book “Tattooist Of Auschwitz”. Clearly I am in the mood for a breakdown. I give it another… 30 minutes & i’ll be in tears again.

I don’t know the point of this post. I just needed to vent & clear my head. That is what this blog start as. A place to come and just say exactly what I was thinking or feeling at a certain time. I don’t even know if this post makes sense. Basically today… I hate myself. But tomorrow? Is a brand new day.

I guess I just want to feel less alone, or help other parents maybe realise that THEY aren’t alone?

Surviving the hard days… just about. I know the image on this post isn’t the greatest, it isn’t polished & edited beyond perfection. But I would cut off my left tit (Soz Teddy) for one of these strawberry daquiri’s right now. I’m also really not painting a very good image of myself as a mother. If this is the first time reading my blog, I promise it isn’t always like this. I also like to talk about opinionated twats & post partum periods

 

 

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1 Comment

  1. September 7, 2018 / 6:56 pm

    Oh Rach:( Tomorrow is a new day. I have many days like this..and I’m sure the guilt at the end of the day when they’re (finally) sleeping soundly, makes us a good parent, I mean a bad parent wouldn’t even feel the guilt, right?

    How to sum up parenting? Fucking relentless.

    Just think, it could be worse you could have two of the fuckers like me!

    Have a chinese and a coke and chill out xx

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