Yesterday I was told; “everybody has worries in their life”
Today I was told “you have a lot more than some people”
Both the statements are true, but both of them stung me like a knife in the chest. Both off them felt like a personal attack. Both of them sounded just like my mum.
I wanted C today. I’m a little scared of seeing her again, after hanging up on her, but I hope we’ll be ok. I need her.
I’ve just taken my bike out. 35 minutes pumping as hard as I possibly could. I’m still a jittery, agitated mess.
The truth hurts!
Nursery had an outbreak a few weeks ago. I’ve been watching little man closely, and this weekend; BOOM!
The spots are literally erupting before my eyes. We could really be doing without this right now. I’m going to have to take time off work. I’m not in any position to asking for time off, given my recent episodes.
Little man is grumpy. Indeed I would be too. I’ve had them as a child, but oh dear, tonight I’m feeling rather itchy.
Let’s hope it’s just a psychological reaction to having pox in our house. My immune system is probably already working overdrive. Can it cope with chicken pox?
The battle lines were drawn. He glared at me steadfast, and confident. There was only ever going to be one winner here.
No I will not use a spoon today Mummy! I will eat my beef and mash on my terms, or I shall starve!!!!!
You’ve got to admire the stubberness off a 2 year old. We can usually count on him to swallow grub without protest, handling cutlery like a pro.
Some battles are worth fighting and simetimes when sleep depruved and alone it’s just easier to wait whilst this little human, slowly and infuriatingly sucks beef and mash from a 5ml paracetamol syringe.
This evening would be spent powerhosing every nook and cranny of his little pudgy arms and legs. There was much fun had running and rolling down sand dunnes and I knew that he would harbour kilograms of the stuff and gleefully sprinkle it on kitchen tiles, staircase carpets and bedroom floors upon our return home. I will deal with that tomorrow!!!
Now though, it’s bath time. A whiff of something in the air indicated the need for a gentle pre wipe. I whipped his nappy off, dealt with his thoughtful little gift, and stood him, bare bummed and smiling by our bath.
I quickly nipped out to grab his PJ’s and upon my return, there they were, glistening and golden on my bathroom floor;
3 little puddles………….
That’s it, my trip home is over and in all honesty I’m relieved. We’re up at 5.30 am tomorrow to head back to some normality.
I have no idea what 2019 will hold for myself and little man. What I do know is that I hold little optimism.
I’ve had teary sessions at home, with good reason and without. I’m still staggering, searching for footholds; but I keep slipping.
I have however regained some control over my purging habits, so that I guess is progress.
I should have guessed new years eve would be hell. I hate coming home and nights like this solidify my reluctance.
It started with a simple invite. My aunt invited me up for drinks and nibbles to see in the new year. She did not invite my sister who was sat with us at the time. My mum was not quick enough to ask my sister to stay up with her and BANG!!!!
She grabbed her kids, stormed home and 2 minutes later I got the call; fuck you loopy!! FUCK YOU for ruining my new years eve!!
She rang her partner to dump him, locked all the doors in her house, screamed at her kids to come away from the windows and threatened to drink herself into a coma.
Her partner arrived a little later and we eventually got in, but I’ve never seen such rage and venum spit as she listed all the ways that we have wronged her, listed all the reasons that she hates us and we left as she began to throw keys and glass at her partner.
The saddest thing was seeing her young daughter in floods of tears trying to make sense of everything and us not being allowed to comfort her.
My sister has a mental illness that she refuses to accept or own.
I want to flee here now, never to come back. I can’t watch my mum and dad in floods of tears as my sister threatens to take her kids away forever. I can’t cope with the instability and the chaos.
I don’t want to be here anymore.
Today I got a glimpse into my childhood. I bought my little niece lego classic for Christmas.
This afternoon as she was building happily, when my Dad noticed she was going slightly rogue with the instructions. He actually argued with a 7 year old little girl, insisting she was doing it wrong and raising his voice as he became more irritated and quite frankly irrational. It reduced my niece to tears and my mum was also weepy eyed.
My Dads character is difficult to explain. He is never deliberately mean, and is often the more affectionate of my parents, but he lacks sense.
He’s loud and boisterous with little man and becomes worse when little man cries despite me asking him to tone things down.
He would feed children sweets morning, noon and night, and I’ve caught him giving fizzy drinks that I don’t yet allow.
He always has to be right even if that means arguing with a child.
I consoled my niece and ordered my father to apologise. He did and myself and my niece completed the build with every colour of brick except the right ones.
Being at home has reignited my fears for little man. It’s hard to watch him getting stressed whilst my niece and nephews fuss and flock around him.
He is only 2, but everyone agrees that he cries more than an average toddler. He cries for no apparent reason. He cries when there’s noise and when he transitions from one activity to another. He’s still walking on his toes, although not all the time.
He has come on a lot this past few months in many ways. He shows me affection and plays with me and OH but there is just something about him that niggles at me, and makes me fear for his future.
My family are ncredibly loud though and actually they stress me out too.
I’ve had enough of being at home now, but I’ve got a week to go yet. I need to burn.