this is a short story face blog. you’ve been warned.
ok. let’s open this up with I don’t want, nor do I need any parenting advice. clearly they have made it this long and it’s too late anyway. so let’s just nip that in the bud right now. This is basically the “what the fuck happened and how did I let this happen and Holy shit I let this happen” faceblog. that being said, let’s just jump right on in, shall we? now. I am, however, going to try to justify this is some small way - to no avail - by saying she’s my baby. the youngest. the one they handed me when I woke up out of a c-section fog and they informed me that that’s it for you. no more children. had to shut that down because if you’d even had one natural contraction, you’d both be dead. your body can’t handle another pregnancy and blah diddy blah blah BLAH. strike one. I should also mention that little last baby bundle of snuggie bug bliss was my sick one. It was a fight and it was/is heartbreaking every single day. another attempt at justification and strike 2. Now, I should be honest and slide back for a moment and remind everyone that I was the most miserable pregnant person on earth. no. really. MISEF’nRY, ok. I was not a oh I’m growing a life and it kicked and look at me glow kind of person. and to be honest, the fact that mister allowed me to get pregnant after number 1 is absolutely mindblowing given the fact that I wanted to have him taken out for putting me through the hell of fat ass heat waddling vomiting bed ridden God forsaken hell. ok. off the subject. let’s get back to the point. but I will say THAT is how it all started. I mean, come on. I was mom of the year with numbers 1 and 2, right?? ok. with 1. number 2, I wanted to give away for at least the first 6 months of his life. but that’s an exhaustion/ colic bullshit thing and I’ll deny it even though it’s in writing. soooooooooo. let’s fast forward through mommy hell, the dark years, the I’m giving up on life years and let’s keep the one constant. my little emmy snuggie bug and her little hands on my face. her little self reaching for mommy. sleeping on my chest so I could be there through every moment of her being sick and I’ll also say, I’m not sure that I’d have made it through that time without that God given love. ok. yes. sob cry snot… she’s seven, now. SEVEN. we moved to colorado. my husband is never home and we made some kind of deal. I, without thinking it through, agreed to some kind of deal with the devil. she sleeps in her bed in her own room when mister is home, but when daddy’s gone, she’s in bed with me. wellllllllll….. this shit is not working out, ok. she’s worse than the snoring monster of flinching and flipping hell. and little miss DOESN’T sleep. which means mommy doesn’t sleep. which means I’M DYING. SLOWLY. DYYYYYIIIINNNNGGGGGG. one cannot survive on this kind of life. at all. I’m moving. I have to move. I’m on the verge of a f’n nervous breakdown. and the one thing she’s best at is crying on command. always has been. child can bring tears to any situation. it’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. out of nowhere. BAM. tears. down the face. ok little drama queen. shut that shit down. really???? REALLY?? who can do that? amylia. that’s who. well. every time I try to “break the deal” so I can sleep, just one night. please. just sleep in your room when mister isn’t here killing me with his bullshit and please just let me sleep alone and you sleep and pleeeeaaaaase. but no. tears. sobbing. but mommy we made a deal. I love you… OMG. and I’ve been worried. why can’t she sleep? what’s going on? something is happening at school. do I take her to the dr? I’ve asked her every single question. I’m scared. I’m in tears. so last night mister is home and she’s in her bed and of course it’s 130 am and she comes in… mommy I can’t sleep. ok baby. come here. she’s on my chest. she’s up. I’m up. this is the end. my body can’t survive on this lack of rest. she dozes off. I drag my ass out. defeated. what is wrong with her? HELP. I go crawl into her bed. cry. cry hard. pass out. omg. I wake up to the alarm. what? WHAT? is she ok? what happened? she’s up every night until 5 am…. seriously people. this is a problem, ok. I run in. THESE TWO ARE PASSED THE FUCK OUT. she’s in my spot. arms out Jesus style. OUT. he’s snoring. she’s gone. WHAT THE FUCK????? I wake her with kisses on her neck. she hops out of bed all happy and great and well rested and hi mommy…. la la la la laaaaa!! happy pappy whaaaaatttt????? I slept in a double. 54 pillows. 1000 stuffed animals. headboard and footboard squashing me in 2. my neck is twisted. my back is broken. what happened here? WHAT JUST HAPPENED?? you know what just happened? I’ll tell you. I ask her what’s going on, baby? you slept good in mommy’s bed? is it my pillow? is it my spot? what is it??? well…. I like your bed and when you are there you squish me. MY HEAD EXPLODED. I SQUISH YOOUUUUUUUU?????????????????? oh hell no. hellll no. NO. I’ve been played by a 7 year old. she just wanted my spot. I’m moving the hell out. that’s it. I give. I’m done. OMG.