Friday, August 2, 2013

Dear Blog

You're the only friend who understands me...

On Wednesday, I forgot my cell phone at day care. I pride myself in being a girl who can live without her cell phone for an afternoon, but it was a work-at-home day, so I needed it more than usual. I drove back to day care and begged Mark to take a 20 minute break from work, so I could go. When I came home, most the furniture in the living room had been moved, and E was camped out behind the recliner clutching something small in her hand.

"What's going on?" I asked.
"She won't come out," he said with a sigh.
"Why is the recliner moved out from the wall. I keep it pushed back, so that she doesn't go back there. There are wires back there."
"Well, she didn't want to sit in the recliner in front of the AC, so I just moved the chair."
"You could have just turned the AC off while she sat there. And what's in her hand?"
"Some dice," he said, defeated.
"I told you that she can only play with those when she's at your desk, with supervision. She always puts them in her mouth."
"I know, but she wanted to take them with her."
"Of course she did!"

I moved our floor fan out of the way, pulled the recliner further away from the wall, and attempted to pull E out of her hiding spot while she tried to put the dice in her mouth. Her fingers were wrapped so tightly around the dice, that I had to pry them one at a time while she screamed.

I tried another tactic, "You need to give the dice to your father. He will put them back on his desk, and you can use them when you sit with him."

"NO, no no," she shakes her head.
"Ok, then Mommy will have to take them."

Cue the screeching temper tantrum. I gave the dice to Mark and put her down on the floor.

Then I noticed the back of her legs. They were completely green.

"What happened to her legs!?" I asked, as I got down on my knees to inspect her.
"It's paint," Mark said.

"When did you paint? What happened? I was gone for 20 minutes." I'm not a mom who minds a mess, but seriously... The only explanation is that he let her do whatever she wanted for a full 20 minutes.


This morning, Mark gave E cheddar goldfish for breakfast (after oatmeal and 3 helpings of raisins). I know she's going through a growth spurt and there are worse things to feed a kid, but who in their right mind thinks that a toddler needs cheddar goldfish at 7:30am after eating a lumberjack breakfast?

"Why did you give her goldfish in the morning?" I asked.
"She asked for some."
"Why didn't you say 'No, not for breakfast. Here are some... Cheerios'?"
"She was really cute and using her words and signing 'more' so well."



When Mark had her for the 2 days that I was sick, she was allowed to do anything and everything. If she cried, Mark got her whatever she wanted. As soon as I was better, I had a Tasmanian devil baby to contend with. If she dropped a toy, she cried... if her sock fell off, she cried... if she was hungry, sad, happy, whatever, she cried. I almost lost my mind... It took an entire day of saying, "Nope. Use your words." to right the situation, and I finally have my sweet kid back!


The only problem now is that she hates me. When we leave in the morning, she screams for Dada Mahkee. When we go home at the end of the day, she wants him. And I'm a fun mom! I let her do so much in the name of self expression -- she can wear what she wants. I let her take just about any toy outside (except her 2 cherished bedtime ones so we don't lose them). I've always let her play with small toys, at the table so I could supervise, and the day care teacher says she has the best fine motor skills of any toddler she's seen! I take her for a ride in her stroller then pair it with a visit to the park, the beach, almost every day. We go away almost every weekend -- and who cares for her in the back seat? Who plays hidey bunny and peek-a-boo and peeeyuuu stinky feet? I do.

And our "hero," Dada Mahkee, as wonderful as he is... (Don't get me wrong, he has the patience of a saint, doesn't mind a messy house, puts up with all my screaming and carrying on, claims to still love me regardless of the fact that I've lost my mind over the last year and a half, and takes care of us so well...) But he's still the one who forgot E's shoes this morning, who sent me into an anxiety-spiral that I still haven't escaped... the one who assumed that I wouldn't need his help today, because I got on fine yesterday, so when I was finally ready to go, found him still in his underwear and not ready to help me bring E out to the car, while I packed up all 4 of our bags, laptop case, lunches and breakfasts, while I stressed about laundry not being done and what would happen if our weekend plans changed, how I would get myself and E ready... how I would run today if I didn't have my lunch with me, and if I didn't have my lunch with me, I'd have to eat on my lunch break which would mean that my usual cleaning up time would be pushed to evening, and the landlord is coming over today to swap out our old microwave for the new one. (Did I clean it!? Oh yeah, I did. Phew.) And if he doesn't come today, it'll be early next week, so my list of things to get done for the weekend has changed... and, I really need to get a new planner. Where is my old one? Oh yeah, E opened her milk and dumped it in my purse which soaked the calendar so much that I had to throw it out. Maybe I can stop at Kinney's today and pick up a cheap one. And I can't forget that the landlord is also coming over on Monday to fix the smoke alarm... which has twice since woken us up at 3am with a 'dead battery' alarm, though we've put brand new batteries in each time.

And that's when I saw the pile of bags in the corner that need to be dropped off at the thrift shop tomorrow, which reminded me that the recycleables need to go out, and the trash which has been sitting now for 2 days.

And that's when I got so mad that we fought, and I hate when we fight. We haven't fought in so long. And it's not that any one of us hasn't been doing their share -- work is crazy for him right now, and I forget how stressful a 10+ hour day of work can be, even at a desk job. My 4 hours in the office every morning leave me tired... and then I have E until 7pm at night, 8pm if you count that, lately, she's been calling me in her room for a drink, a hug, to fix her hair, to kiss her toe that she hurt. God love her.

I know that we just need to work together better. That's all -- to communicate better. Though we're doing much better than we were a year ago at keeping up with the apartment and raising a little person, he still rebels against every single system I've come up with for managing a household. He destroys it before I get it on paper... and it makes it 10 times easier for me to think it's silly and unrealistic too.

And I just want to run away... I want a new house, more room, less clutter.

Today, I'll get home, and I'll clean the house from top to bottom... organize it, pick up toys. But why? He'll still come in and put all his stuff on the floor, his dirty pants over the back of a dining room chair. No one will care except me... And that's fine, except that it just makes me feel so alone... alone in this battle to get our lives in order.

That's all. Thanks for listening, Bloggio...
-puts my arm around you-
-puts my head on your shoulder-
-swings my feet off the edge of my imaginary porch-
-looks out at the Green Mountains of VT-

"Do you think it'll ever change, Blog?"
"I suppose so, Mrs. G. It's nothing that some good, old-fashioned hard work and love can't fix."
"Oh, Bloggio... I do hope you're right."

In my mind, Bloggio is Carson from Downton Abbey. I need a Carson.

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