First post, hiya ladies! My kids are driving me up a wall! So is my husband! This is a literal novel but god, I need to vent. I HAVE to vent before I completely lose my marbles.
My six year old daughter has been acting like she's been possessed by Satan lately. Gone are the days of the polite, well-mannered, pleasant little girl. Instead I have a nasty little not-listening terrorist and a one year old who's part mountain goat. A cute mountain goat, but by god do I love nap time when I know he's not going to scale a damn wall or something absurd.
And my husband wonders why I'm like a chestnut mare when he comes home from work. You know, the husband that helps with ABSOLUTELY. NOTHING. EVER. Yet expects to be pampered and spoiled and helped copiously on his days off when he's not casually wandering off for a nap while I fight to keep the kids from going full lunatic (naps? quiet time? never heard of her.) Change the one year old's diaper? Play with him for maybe an hour on the one day a week I can sleep in a little longer? Watch the baby so he doesn't snatch my drink or press ten thousand buttons on the computer and potentially corrupt my work while he, the husband, is sitting literally a foot away and watching TV and all I want is two minutes of peace to pee? What? HIM? You gotta be KIDDING folks. And if he has a cold, oh BOY he's DYING, the world is ENDING. Meanwhile, when I'm sick, I'm busy nursing our son (via my sore, bruised, abused, unhappy boobs) and can't have any cough syrup. Or a nap. Or a break. Or anything. Nope, Mr. Man needs all the love and attention and copious naps because he 'feels like shit'. Really...
I didn't get any damn breaks when I was pregnant and puking my guts up, or when the absolutely atrocious round ligament pain started up. "Maybe you should see the doctor..." I JUST! NEED! REST! IDIOT! Don't suggest a doctor suggest that YOU FINISH MAKING DINNER AND PICKING UP AFTER THE KIDS. I also got the honor of butchering our hog (butchers exist? but HE WANTED it scalded and scraped and none of them do that around here, but he's also too damn dumb to slaughter and take apart a stupid pig, 7 months and lifting 50lb quarters by myself...woo...).
No breaks when I came home from the hospital and was expected to clean the whole kitchen (I didn't do the dinner dishes because I was IN LABOR.), the house, brush our daughter's butt-length hair, bathe her, and make dinner. While having a newborn that wanted to nurse every fifteen minutes. After 36 hours of labor and a month of heavy Braxton-Hicks. I didn't go for a epidural because I'm a paranoid bitch with a a previous back injury, and I've slipped a disk twice, the really incredibly sweet nurses heard some creative swearing after I reached 7cm and I had my water broke. If looks could kill the doctor would have burst in flames. She was amazing, and while my baby boy was juuust nearly ready to pop out she told me I can take a break in-between contractions - oh no. Oh no ma'am. This little tater tot is coming out NOW. I don't NEED a contraction he's LEAVING. I was DONE.
And no, he didn't attend the birth, he got my ass out of the house and to the hospital ASAP. I wasn't ready to go but I got tired of the goddamn nagging. 'Your contractions are two minutes apart! Do you need to go? Do you want to go?'. I'm not anywhere close to transition! Piss off! Fuck! The hospital did nothing but EXTEND my labor because I HATE hospitals and can't relax. I could have had a much shorter labor if he had left me alone and let me doze. But nope, can't stand to see the wife in pain, go away woman.
Yet when I comment that my migraines are bad or acting up (while being expected to do everything, including homeschooling the kids), I get a "of course they are." Bitch? I have glaucoma that's steadily getting worse, it's quite painful. And untreated. Because apparently it's not that important. Today my vision is spotty and weird. I don't sleep right at night either, the pain gives me nightmares when it's not giving me insomnia. And he likes to complain about how I forget things - dude I KNOW. It's getting worse but apparently not a cause for concern.
Of course it is. I love this man but I could seriously strangle him. We own a construction company and a few weeks ago he decided to fuck off with the workers and go fishing. FISHING. And then had the nerve to bring me these two little piss-ass fish. The dogs got them. Fuck you. I've told him a thousand times I don't want anything under 12".
Now the six year old. My beautiful little demon. My hellish little cave child. On Halloween she snatched candy, abused doorbells, and discovered a pack of children to run with like a feral baboon. She came down with a fever last year and I was maybe a little too soft about it. She had a good time but when I said "press the doorbell once" she terrorized the elderly by going DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING. Finally I threatened that we would be leaving IMMEDIATELY and she let up. A little. Husband drove the car and complained how whiny our one year old son was. Oh my god man, take my phone, but on Baby Shark, and shut up. It's not that hard. He's a tiny tot, he's incredibly easily amused.
But lately she's just gotten increasingly worse. She's good MOST of the time...right now she's playing with her little brother. Little brother is wearing a Cinderella dress and is being scooted around the living room in a princess chair. I told her not to put him in the massively too large dress yesterday, because he can trip and fall or rip it, but you know what? I'm tired. I'm really goddamn tired.
Lately she's started hitting her brother. She's not hitting him hard enough to bother him - there's no whimpering or crying or bruises, but don't hit your brother?! He's a baby?!?! She knocks on his head with her fist, taps him on the head with hard toys, today I caught her making punches at his stomach with a mean face - not full on hard hitting, he was sitting there quite contented, but you - don't do that??? What the hell???? He had a toy (out of the pile she fished out of the toy box and sat down right next to him with).
I don't even know what to DO. She's grounded for the day and I haven't the slightest clue if that's an appropriate punishment or what.
She's also shut him in a cabinet - easily opened, but you Do Not Lock Your One Year Old Brother In A Small Dark Cabinet. And shut him in the toy box. It has a lid and he likes to climb in there and sit and play with his toys and she decided to just shut the lid. That freaked him right the hell out. She's knocked him over, ripped toys out of his hand, teased him with toys so he shrieks like a banshee, and does things on the express purpose of getting him in trouble. Our living room and kitchen are in one room, and he's discovered he can open the fridge and help himself to a rice pudding cup whenever the fancy takes him. Cute, but sweetie you can't have rice pudding as a snack five times a day. I understand that you love rice pudding, but it's like eating ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Henceforth, I scoot the fridge a little so the door is blocked by a cabinet and can't be opened.
What does my darling daughter do? Repeatedly move the fridge so he can open it. Blames it on her brother. Caught on to that one real fast.
I just had to tell her to stop bouncing a ball off his head....child....please....I'm so tired....
And the NOT LISTENING...OH MY GOD....
She likes nail polish and 'makeup' (see: chapstick, she's six. I'm not letting my six year old run around with lipstick and eyeshadow, I let her use mine and she calls it lipstick.) Nail polish is mom-daughter time. I'll happily set up with her when her brother's napping and do her nails with whatever sparkle-polish hell she wants, regardless of how it makes my head ache from the smell.
Lately she's decided that's too much effort to wait and steals it. Then lies when I smell it while I'm in the middle of trying to convince her brother NOT to bite my nipples with his razor sharp baby teeth. There is now bright red nail polish on the carpet. Also, both my tweezers and my nail clippers have gone missing. They where on a high shelf but it seems she has learned how to teleport. Chapstick? No idea. I'm in chapped winter hell.
If it's not nail polish, it's my art supplies. I have (or rather: had) paints, brushes, very expensive clay, special glitters, tools, pens, markers, ink and paper. And I share! I love how creative she is but the supplies aren't cheap. I'll set her up at the table safely corralled away from her baby brother, I'll pour out the paints and watch to make sure she's not abusing brushes. I'll add glitter while explaining how much she needs. I'll help her knead a bunch of clay and let her borrow my sculpting tools.
She even has her OWN supplies, but again - she needs to ask, because kids are messy and I don't want her brother eating paint or clay or paper. Yes, it's non toxic, but we have real food. The worst thing she's ever been told is that yes, she can play with her art supplies or borrow some of mine, but she will have to wait a few minutes because her brother is nursing, and tiny toddlers get really pissed if you take the tit away.
In the last few months I have gone from a very nice collection of supplies, slowly built up over years, to close to none. She's sneaky as hell, waiting until I'm putting the baby down for a nap, or doing laundry (with the baby), or the dishes (with the baby, I do not trust a six year old with a 1 year old). Or she'll get into things in the evening when her brother's asleep, she's playing in her room before bed, and I'm just trying to soak up what tiny amount of relaxation I can managed with a husband that can't get his own damn drink.
$20 brushes ruined. Paint on the carpet (along with the nail polish, it's a rug, but I'm not made of money). Clay - I have NO idea where it went. Ink opened, hidden, and found later, dried out or empty. Don't ask me where the pens and markers are, because I have no idea. Paper? Cut, shredded, scribbled on - she has reams of her own paper, which she can use whenever with HER crayons and washable markers, and she's not allowed scissors unsupervised. I've found one pair so far. I've searched the areas where the baby goes most thoroughly and they're definitely not there. My sculpting tools? Hundreds of bucks worth? GONE WITH THE WIND. I kept all those supplies in an old tackle box and up on a high shelf, but SOMEHOW she's managed to get into it. Knitting needles, a relaxing hobby I enjoyed in the evening? Yup, gone.
Last week she asked to play outside - which is fine, weather was great, and she knows (and was reminded repeatedly) to stay RIGHT THERE in the yard. I check on her five minutes later and she was GONE.
She went up to the neighbor's house and came back with candy. I was livid. I've never even met the damn neighbors! She's no longer allowed to play outside without adult supervision. And she tried to lie about it after I found her. She lies about EVERYTHING now.
She NAGS to the point of me losing my temper with her. She's homeschooled (no help from hubs there either), and in math she's doing addition (doing excellent) and subtraction (learning fast, but not perfect). She's doing wonderful, she really is, and I'm super proud of her. Reading/Writing is testing my will to live.
But she nagged, literally nagged, continuously, for more than half an hour, whining and mewling and throwing a fit until I lost my temper and shouted at her. Over multiplication. She wants to learn multiplication, show me multiplication, I want to do it NOW!
NO! YOU. ARE. NOT. READY. FOR. MULTIPLICATION. WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF SUBTRACTION. I am NOT suddenly throwing a much more difficult mathematical concept at a child who's just grasping the difference between addition and subtraction. She loves math, and I love that she loves math, but her whining at me after I gently explained, several times, that we have a little more work to do before we're ready for multiplication drove me right up a wall.
Today it was: I don't want to practice writing, I want to do math! Baby girl. Dear god. And she argued with me about how SHE writes her numbers. 4 is like...a open square on top of a line. Close, but no cookie. That's why we practice! Fun! Math comes later, right now, we're practicing our writing skills.
It was a short exercise of just writing her name and practicing writing a few numbers she still does wonky (4 and 7 are the worst). We discuss the shape of the numbers and letters and I compliment her when she does well, and explain what went wrong when she does something wrong. For instance: Your S is backwards baby girl, see how the S is shaped here? Let's trace it together! Now YOU try, great job, your S is perfect now! Or we talk about how 8 is shaped like a snow man, can you make the perfect snowman? Let's try it out! She's also really into letter grades for some reason so when she gets a 'perfect score' on a practice line of say, 1 - 10, I give her an A+. I have no idea where it came from but it makes her happy, so whatever.
Loving math is fantastic, I love that she loves math (I hate math, I really, really hate math), but we have to work on these few basic foundation issues too. I try to make school as fun as possible with her with cool explanations and problems (if you have two horses, and you give one horse to your friend, how many horses do YOU have?) BUT THE NAGGING AND COMPLAINING.
And getting her to work on her reading and writing with me, even though I try to make it as cool as possible and engage with her the entire time, is like pulling teeth. Why? She's rather be doing math. Everything else, as she puts it, is BORING even though I try to make reading and writing sound like the coolest thing in the absolute universe. Right now I'm attempting to bribe her into settling down to work harder at reading/writing with 'if we do this more, you can write your very own bedtime story with me and we can read it together!'.
God, moms, I have no idea how some of you guys do it. You're like superheros. My husband wants to our dear daughter a guinea pig now, because she saw something about guinea pigs somewhere and he said she can have one (without consulting me). I...don't like guinea pigs. I really, really do not like guinea pigs. I had a friend with a pair when I was a kid and they were the most obnoxious little bastards I've ever met.
But of course, he goes to work, and won't be the one cleaning and taking care of the obnoxious, squealing creature. I have nothing against a small furry pet - she already has two cats, and I'm the one who feeds/waters/cleans the litter box, but they're sweet and cuddly and don't get up to too much stupidity. But a frickin' guinea pig? Seriously? What's wrong with something quiet? Like a chinchilla? Or a ferret? I love chinchillas and ferrets! Bring them on! They're not obnoxious!
I can't get a bird because 'they're too annoying' - I like birds, I'm prepared for a bird - but this is fine. Sure. It's like when HE insisted we get a pig to raise for eating and then I was the one who had to do ALL THE CARE FOR IT. Feeding, watering, cleaning (watering that asshole brought me to tears, it would be 100f+ and he would knock over ALL his water, or poop in it, he had a huge wallow he was just a prick). I didn't want a pig! I don't like pigs! I especially don't want to hear a pig screaming at 7AM when I had to feed the stupid thing! You know what happens when you lose your temper at a pig and scream at it to shut up because you managed four hours of nightmare riddled sleep the night before? It screams louder. FUCK pigs.
Huge rant...but I feel better...off to pick up the ten thousand toys now strewn across the house that was clean 20 minutes ago....husband keeps buying them more then gets annoyed when they get flung all over the place as kids are known to do...
Submitted November 15, 2019 at 11:12PM by nosleepnocoffee https://ift.tt/2Qp7HSa
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