God Grant Me...
God grant me the serenity to accept my child for the little slob that she is, the courage to walk away when I see she has devastated my house, and the wisdom to know and remember that if I kill her I will be sent to prison.
I say the above prayer with clenched teeth and a throbbing headache.
I have recently started back to work part time. My neighbor has been keeping an eye on my daughter while I work. So when I came home today, imagine my utter shock and horror at the sight I beheld.
Now, I am not a picky person. After 15 years of being both a parent and a step-parent, I have accepted the fact that children are messy and their version of clean is no where near my version of clean. I have come to terms with tripping on roller skates, sitting on sharp, pokey, Barbie accessories, and missing my favorite eye shadow.
But today took the cake.
I did not sleep well last night because I have been working odd hours and my sleep is screwed up, not to mention my daughter thinks talking to me until 2 am is fun. So when I came in, sleep deprived, hot (my car does not have air), and a hundred more things left to do for the day, and found my house a disaster, I nearly blew a heart valve.
I don't expect my daughter to be perfect. I know she will make messes but this...this! The cushions were partially off both couches, the table had crud on it an inch thick, she had stepped on a banana, mashed it into the floor, tracked it through the house, and spilled orange juice on top of the site of the original banana stamping. She had her towels from her shower and swimming scattered all over the couches, and some bizzaro art project involving duct tape, an empty coke bottle and a bunch of straws strewn everywhere.
I then make my way from the living room into the bathroom and find my makeup all over the sink, the cat sleeping on my freshly washed and folded towels, no toilet paper, and a wet floor.
I am to the point of eye twitching by now when I walk into my kitchen. Now granted, I have not done dishes in three days because I have been helping my brother move, but she had not bothered to scrape her dishes. She just sat the plate, food and all, onto the pile of dishes. Most of the food slid into the sink. And as if that wasn't joy enough, I found she had over fed the cats and they puked all over my kitchen in three seperate spots.
I walk from the kitchen feeling light headed and nauseous, and almost positive my eyeball is going to pop from its socket. I go into my bedroom and find the clean clothes from the dryer in a heap on my bed, wrinkled and mashed together beneath her body, and that is where I turned into a hideous, screeching, eye twitching bitch.
I could not believe she did this to our house. She didn't pick up one single mess. I have been spending every available moment with her doing fun stuff, like movies and swimming, and this is how she treats me?
I have spent my entire evening, scowling, mopping, hauling garbage, and cleaning up cat puke and I am exhausted. I have to get up in the morning and help my brother finish his move. I don't think I'm up to this.
I hate being a bitch. I hate yelling at her. It breaks my heart. I like to laugh and have fun and joke but when she does something so incredibly callous, it truly hurts my feelings. I adore her. I try so very hard to make her life fun and happy and loving and then she does something like this. Then to top it all off she had the nerve to complain that I wouldn't come sit down and watch a movie with her tonight.
I had no time. I didn't get finished with cleaning the fiasco up until after 10pm.
I am going to bed now. She is still alive but both our feelings are hurt and she is grounded. I did not raise my hand to her but God only knows it was a close call. She has apologized a dozen times but since this is the umpteenth offense, I am not readily accepting her "I'm really sorry mommy". Yes, baby doll, and I am really sorry you are grounded all this weekend and that includes the birthday party on Sunday.
But I won't stay mad for long. I never do. I am just no good at being angry. I'm too damn yippy skippy for my own good. Besides, she is my baby doll and I love her very much.
Damn. Already I am feeling bad because I yelled at her and I hate to ground her. I suck at this mommy job. And what's worse, I can't quit.
I say the above prayer with clenched teeth and a throbbing headache.
I have recently started back to work part time. My neighbor has been keeping an eye on my daughter while I work. So when I came home today, imagine my utter shock and horror at the sight I beheld.
Now, I am not a picky person. After 15 years of being both a parent and a step-parent, I have accepted the fact that children are messy and their version of clean is no where near my version of clean. I have come to terms with tripping on roller skates, sitting on sharp, pokey, Barbie accessories, and missing my favorite eye shadow.
But today took the cake.
I did not sleep well last night because I have been working odd hours and my sleep is screwed up, not to mention my daughter thinks talking to me until 2 am is fun. So when I came in, sleep deprived, hot (my car does not have air), and a hundred more things left to do for the day, and found my house a disaster, I nearly blew a heart valve.
I don't expect my daughter to be perfect. I know she will make messes but this...this! The cushions were partially off both couches, the table had crud on it an inch thick, she had stepped on a banana, mashed it into the floor, tracked it through the house, and spilled orange juice on top of the site of the original banana stamping. She had her towels from her shower and swimming scattered all over the couches, and some bizzaro art project involving duct tape, an empty coke bottle and a bunch of straws strewn everywhere.
I then make my way from the living room into the bathroom and find my makeup all over the sink, the cat sleeping on my freshly washed and folded towels, no toilet paper, and a wet floor.
I am to the point of eye twitching by now when I walk into my kitchen. Now granted, I have not done dishes in three days because I have been helping my brother move, but she had not bothered to scrape her dishes. She just sat the plate, food and all, onto the pile of dishes. Most of the food slid into the sink. And as if that wasn't joy enough, I found she had over fed the cats and they puked all over my kitchen in three seperate spots.
I walk from the kitchen feeling light headed and nauseous, and almost positive my eyeball is going to pop from its socket. I go into my bedroom and find the clean clothes from the dryer in a heap on my bed, wrinkled and mashed together beneath her body, and that is where I turned into a hideous, screeching, eye twitching bitch.
I could not believe she did this to our house. She didn't pick up one single mess. I have been spending every available moment with her doing fun stuff, like movies and swimming, and this is how she treats me?
I have spent my entire evening, scowling, mopping, hauling garbage, and cleaning up cat puke and I am exhausted. I have to get up in the morning and help my brother finish his move. I don't think I'm up to this.
I hate being a bitch. I hate yelling at her. It breaks my heart. I like to laugh and have fun and joke but when she does something so incredibly callous, it truly hurts my feelings. I adore her. I try so very hard to make her life fun and happy and loving and then she does something like this. Then to top it all off she had the nerve to complain that I wouldn't come sit down and watch a movie with her tonight.
I had no time. I didn't get finished with cleaning the fiasco up until after 10pm.
I am going to bed now. She is still alive but both our feelings are hurt and she is grounded. I did not raise my hand to her but God only knows it was a close call. She has apologized a dozen times but since this is the umpteenth offense, I am not readily accepting her "I'm really sorry mommy". Yes, baby doll, and I am really sorry you are grounded all this weekend and that includes the birthday party on Sunday.
But I won't stay mad for long. I never do. I am just no good at being angry. I'm too damn yippy skippy for my own good. Besides, she is my baby doll and I love her very much.
Damn. Already I am feeling bad because I yelled at her and I hate to ground her. I suck at this mommy job. And what's worse, I can't quit.
posted by Liz at 10:26 PM
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