Stayed home from work today, cause I don't feel well. My throat is aching and my head is stuffy. What a way to start a holiday weekend.
I thought cool, yea!!! -- kids are at school, all I've got to deal with is me and my grouchy baby boy.
No such luck -- as everytime that I try to get a little rest and peace for myself. He stays home too. Spying on me, blaming it on the fact that it may rain today. He's full of poop.
Funny -- my dad instead of calling J**** asshole calls him rectum. Hey, what is "rectum" doing today. Sounds so "ewwwwwww."
I did get some stuff accomplished. No rest. I said, J**** since you are home, please watch D***** so I can take a nap." "But I was going to take a nap."
If I have told him once in the last few days, I've told him forty times -- please, just give up and leave. Leave us alone. "But, I love you." "I HATE YOU." "But, I love you and baby hate is such a strong word." "GO AWAY." I did get all financial stuff out of his name today -- progress.
I am so sick of him and he's sober. I'm just tired and resentful and he's not going to do a daggone thing for this family. He's a friggin' parasite and I'm sick of it.
Still smokeless -- still grumpy -- and close to needing a padded room.
I want a break, just one weekend -- no kids, no husband. Just me and my space, my home to do stuff I want to do, paint, yard work, etc without interruptions. But, no.
By the way -- one 21 month old boy can destroy a 2000 sq foot home in 21 minutes.
In the time it has taken to type this post -- he has taken all folded laundry and thrown in the floor, spilled a bowl of fruit loops, milk and all in kitchen floor, attempted to empty book shelf, and yes -- I've spanked him which he completely ignores.
I must go now and mop -- where is Super Nanny when you need her?
4 comments:
Maybe the 21 month old senses the tension between you and rectum and is acting out.
Wow, I wonder just how much room I actually have here to write in this comments section…? I stumbled upon your blog a couple of months ago quite by accident, and bookmarked it immediately. Your words resonated in a deep and heartfelt place that comes from long long ago, but is never that far away. I have returned every few days to read of your (amazing-astounding-strong-brave) progress, and today I feel compelled to respond. I, too, lived your life. My ex-husband could have been yours, and I could have written your story nearly word for word. I was young when I married him. I hesitated to make that commitment until we shared an infant daughter, but finally love prevailed and I became his hard working bride. I was so hopelessly in love with him that his character defects seemed but small obstacles for me to conquer. My parents did everything they could to convince me that I deserved a better life, but they just did not have the life experience to express to me what kind of world I was entering in a way that I could appreciate their wisdom. I was good at being pregnant, and at working multiple jobs, and at being classically codependent. Life was, of course, a circus… of his alcoholism, drug use/abuse/dealing, infidelity, joblessness… our home became a central location for his friends to gather and do those things they did. I really wonder at how I did it, in retrospect. If I wasn’t working 2 jobs, I was working double shifts at one, serving both goals of earning enough money to support my whole household as well as keeping me away from the chaos that home held. He would tell you that he raised our children single handedly during those years, but in truth he was rarely sober enough to be alone with our babies, and I paid more than half of my earned wages to a wonderful babysitter who gave my children good care. I don’t have to tell you what life was like. He had good days, of course. Those were the confusing ones. Most were bad days, which were very clear to my understanding. You know the routine, never dependable, drunk at the most incredibly inappropriate moments, even those times that I really thought he could keep it together. “Stole” my car routinely. Wrecked it a couple of times. Coerced, threatened, or flat out stole money (or blank checks) most every payday. Couldn’t hold a job even during those rare exceptional times that he wanted to work. Most of the time, he was content to lie on the couch with a hot 12 pack of cheap beer and a bag of weed watching Dukes of Hazard reruns on TV. Other women were an occasional but recurring issue. Skanky ones. I wouldn’t have been so embarrassed if they had been of higher quality… is that crazy? (For anyone else, I would write a thousand words of description of this life, otherwise they could never visualize… but for you, I know I don’t have to. You know the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach when he comes home drunk at 3am and you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom to quietly puke in the toilet because your nerves finally hit a brick wall.) So then… I was pregnant with our third child, we had two beautiful daughters 2 and 3, and somehow, someway, one day I found the courage and strength inside of myself that you have found in you, and I asked for a divorce. I was fair. I explained to him that I loved him more than oxygen, but that our children deserved, needed, and earned my love to a greater degree than him. I told him that I felt it was my duty to give my children the opportunity to make their own decisions about drugs and alcohol, as we all do, when they became old enough to understand the issues. And that if a child grows up in a household where they see the people who are supposed to be forming their values using drugs and drinking in excess, it will just be automatically ‘right’ for them, stealing away from them the choice that should be theirs to make. I also gave him 30 days from that day to make a change. To actively look for a job (show me you’re looking even if you don’t get hired), to be a healthy role model as a father, to be a husband to me, just to make a visible attempt at any of that! Then I didn’t mention it again for 30 days. I bit my tongue and waited, watched. He didn’t do a damn thing. Cheap beer. Dukes reruns. Same ol same ol. In 30 days, I told him time was up and I was filing. Then sent him away… kicking and screaming… threatening and creating legal family issues… and finally he relented and went along his way. And it was brutal. Raising kids alone is not fun. Working and trying to maybe go to school part time every once in awhile sucks. Managing money that barely exhists to pay bills (that demand to be acknowledged now) is insane. He sent child protective services to my house almost weekly with lies of abuse when I wouldn’t let him take them for unsupervised visits. I stood my ground. I worked, I cried, I loved my kids, I trusted my family and friends, and I learned slowly and painfully to trust myself. We crashed and burned a few times along the way. My kids and I picked each other up every time. Amen to your mantra of Thank God for Prozac. And for good therapists. And for good teachers. And for understanding bosses. And for those few rare wonderful friends/family (friends in my case) who never gave up on me even when I deserved it.
Want to know what happened next?
20 years later, I am healthy happy and free. I have a decent job that pays the bills and keeps us fed and sheltered. I own my home, and I bought a new car a couple of years ago. I have 3 amazing smart healthy good-looking adult kids. They are what I have lived for all these years, and I must say that the years I invested in them and them alone was worth every moment, as the world is reaping the value of my investment a thousand fold. My 3 kids have had their assortment of troubles, issues, and inevitable results of their heritage. Nobody comes out unscathed, but we all healed quite thoroughly. I am engaged to be married next month to the most wonderful, gentle, loving man I have ever known… after being single by choice for over 20 years. My life is good. Our life is good. We could have never have achieved the level of peace and contentment in our lives had I not made the choices I made 20 years ago. My ex husband, unfortunately, went on to make some very unfortunate decisions in his life, including a DUI accident that killed an elderly couple, prison time, teaching his second wife’s sons how to smoke marijuana before they became teenagers, and generally saddening the quality of the lives of many people who had a continuing interest in his lifestyle.
Girl, you have made the right choice. It’s always hard, and you will question yourself a gazillion times. You are right. You have done the right thing for yourself and for your babies. They are worth it. They are worth everything. More than oxygen. Trust me. I am so proud of your courage. If you need me to share any of mine with you, email me at daallen34 @hotmail.com or Yahoo messenger me at dana1964allen. I’ll always get back to you if you want to gab a bit. :-) Dana
Well hot dog! Dana is da'BOMB! This is EXACTLY what this wonderful woman needed to hear.
YOU, madam, are a GODSEND.
There is light at the end of this tunnel and it isn't a train.
Thank you Granny Dana - I am Estranged's big sister. I have led the life you lived and the one she is living. Mine included everything like yours and mine also included violence. However, you were smarter than me - you got out quicker than I did. I stayed because I thought he'd change - because I loved him soooo much - and now my kids are a mess. My son is an alcoholic, works whenver he feels like it - just like his daddy. My daughter is now living the life I did, with a man who loves drugs more than his family - he's just like her daddy. It hurts when I see my sister stressed out and I know she's not happy. It hurts when I hear the pain in my neice's voice. It is now 6 years after my divorce, like you, I own my own house, I have a brand new car, I have a good job and keep my bills paid, I am enjoying life. Yes, it gets lonely at times, but hey, I have my kids, I have my grandbabies, I have me!
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