Rubbed Raw

It is late, and I am tired.  And discouraged. And I kind of hate myself.

As I write this, it is Tuesday.  The day I published this post.  About the wonder of motherhood.

And of course it was a terrible day with my kids.

The morning was more potty training, a very cranky Sophie, some missed opportunities by me to teach her.  Discouragement.  At one point I yelled at her so loud to be heard over her yelling that pain instantly shot through my throat and instead of scolding her, I launched into a coughing fit.

In the afternoon I had made arrangements for Joshua to have a fun time with his Aunt Bethie and cousin James.  Special for Joshua, who has basically been prisoner in this house the past ten days due to potty training.  And I needed to have some alone time with Sophie do work on potty.  Because some of the missed opportunities I have with her, are because I am tending to my other child.

But not much was accomplished during our time together.  Then finally at 3, I put her down for a nap, because she was exhausted and cranky and I needed a break.  She went right to sleep. PERHAPS because she had gotten up at 6 am with wet pants.  She used to sleep til 7:30 before potty hell began.

Then my nephew James came home with Joshua. MORE special fun for Joshua.  He was thrilled.

Until James left and daddy wasn’t coming home before bedtime because he had to fix his car, and then he threw a huge crying fit, and I lost it. And of course right before this, Sophie peed her pants.  Good times.

I marched him up to bed.  I threatened him.  He calmed down.  I read him his chapter of Chronicles of Narnia and I cried the whole time.  He asked me what was wrong and I told him I was sad because he had thrown a fit, and Sophie had peed her pants.  Then I finished reading and cried some more.  Then when it was time to pray, and I asked him what he was thankful for, he said, “Daddy, James, and Lucas.”  His dad, his cousin, his friend.  That’s it.

I tucked him in and went to get Sophie for bed.  She was less than cooperative.  I let her nap too long and now she’s up in her room running around at 10 pm and I’m starving because I haven’t been to the grocery because I’ve been chained to this house POTTY TRAINING and there’s not much to eat and I’m not going to cook a meal for myself at 10 pm especially when there is no husband to help me eat it.

I would like, for a week, for someone competent to come in and take over my life,  put it in order for me, and then I’ll come back, and maybe by some miracle, someone will have missed me.

But at this point, vacation and appreciation seem pretty far off.

Post to Twitter

I Demand REPARATIONS!!!

Today has been a very trying day for me.  First, I had to RACE to the preschool I was interested in sending Sophie to next fall because Cortney (who is also sending her son there) was actually on top of it and you know, called to see how many spots they had left and it was not many.  So we both raced over there…and signed the kids up…and I really didn’t even have time to feel emotional about it.

UNTIL.  I realized that this now means I have a definite “drop dead date” on when I have to have to world’s must STUBBORN child potty trained, and then, I felt not just emotional, but SUICIDAL.

Potty training Joshua was horrible.  (Don’t believe me? Click here! or here! or here!)  So, I thought with Sophie, I deserved a break.  I didn’t push it.  I wasn’t going to spend 6 months trying to get her to go potty.

When she turned three, and started grossing me out, I decided it was time.

Then we tried some intense training with her, and it made all of us MISERABLE.

And today was another day in misery.  One poop on the floor, one pee in her undies during “rest time”, and now, at 7:52 PM, she’s been running around pantsless, spent more time on the potty than not, and has been holding it for FOUR HOURS at least. Update: we finally put her to bed at 9 PM, she still had not peed. So over 5 hours she held it.  And then we put her in a diaper for bed, because we have no mattress pad!  Guess what I’m going to get today!!!!!???

I’m not gonna make it.  She’s never going to preschool, or I will never see her go, because this is gonna kill me.

WHERE THE HELL IS MY BREAK????

Post to Twitter

Fit to be Tied

Let me just say that over the past several days, my two youngest children have started conspiring together.  Conspiring to kill me.

That’s right, Sophia Diane, who can now finally take the title of “Bitter Middle Child” and run with it, and my Kidney Bean baby (as he or she appeared to be on ultrasound Monday, a kidney bean with a heart beat!) are trying to do their mama in.  The “morning sickness” has really set in this week, and by “morning”, I of course mean “all freaking day and night”.  I’ve been fairly miserable and non-functional, and slightly bitter about it.  Yesterday Kidney Bean treated me to a new pregnancy experience: the “Splashback”.  That’s right, I vomited so violently that it splashed back up out of the toilet and into my face. Kind of ruins the 30-second relief you usually get from nausea after puking.  I was in our teeny-tiny half-bath when this lovely event occurred, and when I whirled around to get to the sink to, you know, wash the puke off my face, I hit my head pretty good on a part of the wall that sticks out where our laundry chute is. It hurt like a mother for the rest of the day, and still hurts this morning, and I have a lovely bruise over my left eyebrow.  Which is great, because I was looking a little pasty.

Anyhoo.

To add insult to injury, Sophie-pants has decided that starting last week, she is A) not going to take a nap any more and B) start getting up about 45 minutes earlier in the morning (HOW do those two things go together Sophie?? HOW??) and C) not go to bed any earlier.

Being that by late afternoon I am dying to lay down for a bit, this is very sad news for me indeed.  And since the only time I don’t feel like CRAP is when I’m ASLEEP, it’s a double-whammy.

Blargh.

I’m pretty sure the two are in cahoots.  Perhaps Sophie already has the older-sibling power of manipulation over this baby even as he or she is still floating in a pond of amniotic fluid.  Who knows?  Maybe it’s a coincidence, or maybe I’m just doomed.

One thing is for sure, though. I am fit to be tied.  And so are my tubes.

Post to Twitter