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…