I’ve recently been introduced to the ever so amazing blogging skills of Kate Parlin. She is honest, and funny. But most of all she’s real about it. I will be following her blog from now on, a good laugh while you’re tearing your hair out can be nice, right?
Now, it was a particular post of hers that I truly did relate too.
I’m not breaking down. I’m breaking.
I can’t even begin to express how close this hit to home for me. I love my daughter, dearly. But I find myself extremely angry at times… at myself, at him… and I yell when I shouldn’t towards her. See, things are never as they seem on the outside. Haha.
I’m angry at myself because I should be doing better for her. At 30 years of age I have nothing to show but prescription bottles for psychiatric medications and an anxiety level high enough to give an elephant a heart attack. Usually I keep myself in check, usually I remain calm or continuing going about my business. But ever so often, my lack of patience gets the better of me. But at 30 I should have something to show for it right?
HIM – Complete and utter waste of oxygen, not even worth the flesh that covers his cowardly maneuvers. 7 years I’ve done this alone. He was there for a whole 5 months. Even then… it’s was partying, drinking, getting high, or trying to get laid. See we tried getting back together. So of course he’d try to get some, from both me and -ONE- of his other baby mamas. So I walked… especially when it came to finding out that he 1.) Had something. And 2.) Had four other kids that he didn’t take care of. I’m angry at him for a lot of reasons.
Needless to say I’ve got a lot to work on. But regardless, I will admit… yes I will sometimes raise my voice or yell at her. The amount of stress I’m dealing with would honestly cause Dr. Phil to check into a psychiatric ward. Oprah too maybe.
This blog is proof that everyone goes through hell as a parent or single parent. And it also gives proof that there is light at the end of the tunnel.
So, my little Bugg has a Chalazion just under her left eye in the corner.
Started out as a hordeolum, then…. graduated! Not painful, though you would think that it would be with how purple it gets… We went back to the eye “specialist” as we tell Bugg. She’s really a surgeon. She said it could take up to 6 months to go away. 6 months!
Well, me being the mama that I am, and tired of getting asked if I punch/hit my kid when the damn thing has given her another famous shiner, opted to have the thing lanced and drained. So, it is surgery, very minor… but all the same. They will put her under, and as mom, I feel my baby should wake up to me next to her.
Thus… I am postponed temporarily.
Btw… it is really HOT out. Yup…. love the great state of Colorado. Lol.
Two years in a relationship. Two years as someone new.
I now find myself alone again, by choice mind you, but I also find myself noticing this unfamiliar reflection in the mirror. Almost as if I look, and I see…but there is someone new staring back. I always swear that I will never change myself for someone, but it seems I typically do. You’d think I would learn my lesson already. I really dont understand it.
Now I find myself in this predicament. Being accused of being in a biker gang. Correction… Motorcycle Club. They do charity stuff, they’re mostly parents, for fuck sake… they have pajama parties. I don’t see how they can be dangerous. Family is huge to them. Yes they have one night a week that they do party… one. Where’s the danger? Where are the crates of drugs and guns? No where. I wish people would learn to swallow their judgements.
I don’t have Caeleigh. Because I have been here. Because she was here. I’m being threatened for my child to be taken from me. Because she was up late one night, here, roasting marshmallows and getting dirty as kids typically do. But that was me not caring about her. That was me not paying attention to her. That was me putting others ahead of my daughter. I will get her on weekends but I will not be allowed to bring her here. I’m so trapped. I’m a good parent. But having some sort of social contact is big to me. 29 years old, and I’m not allowed to raise my child as I see fit. Ugh…
Now it’s no surprise to me that my daughter didn’t start loosing teeth until just recently. She’ll be 7 next month by the way. But I must say…. she’s awfully adorable when showing off her gap toothed grin. It brings me to wonder…. was I ever proud of anything as a child?
I must admit I don’t remember much of my childhood. Parents fought a lot, on worked a lot. My great grandmother and my grandfather (or Papa as us kids called him) cared for myself and my younger bother. My mother tells me I was a unruly brat and that I’m lucky to have made it this far. She tells me of the things I did. I would bite myself, and kick and scream. You know? A typical fit that a 3-4 year old would throw, only ten times worse. Sometimes I’m glad I don’t remember. But at the same time…. I don’t really remember being proud of something I did. I don’t remember my friends, or the first time I rode a bike. So it is here that I admit my fear.
My daughter kicks and screams. She hits the floor, stomps and throws herself around. I can’t help but ask myself is she will end up just like me. Or wonder how I have failed as a parent, just as my father did I’m sure. People assure me constantly that I am doing just fine and that her behavior is totally normal. I’m still not completely confident in their claims.
What can I do, right?