A Surprisingly Sane Blog

Me: (attempting to peel fresh garlic while holding the baby on left hip)  I’m making spaghetti for dinner, but I need help with April.  Julie’s sick and grumpy and trying to take a nap and the monster is clinging to me for dear life. (Puts baby down, who starts hollering.)

Mom: Mmm, spaghetti sounds good.

April: (clinging to my leg and yelling)  Ma ma ma ma maaaaaaa!

Mom: Ugh, I feel so sick today.  I just felt nauseous all day at work.  I need to lay down.  (Proceeds to bitch and whine about how tired she is.)

Me: April, please stop yelling.  I can’t hold you while I’m doing this.  My hands are full of garlic and onion.  (Picks up baby to quiet her down.)

(Mom stares at April and yawns.)

Me: Mom, could you please hold her for a minute so I can finish sauteing the veggies?

Mom: (Reluctantly takes April as I pass her off)  Ugh, I hope I’m not getting sick.  I’m going to go lay down. (Places April on the floor and sticks a handful of cereal on the kid table for her to munch on and leaves the kitchen.)

April: Waaaaaaaaaaaah!  Ma ma ma maaaaaaa!   Ahhhhhhhh!  (crawls over to cling on my leg again while I try to finish cooking.)

**Imagine similar frustrating scenario for the next five minutes until I stick her in her portable crib in the same room that Julie was unable to nap in due to her sister’s hollering and screaming.  She continues to squeal like a monkey.**

So twenty minutes later dinner is complete and my mom walks out of the room.

Mom: I dozed off for a few minutes and feel so much better…  (pauses) … oh, where’s the baby?

(As if you can’t hear her down the hall?)

Me: In her crib.  I couldn’t cook with her stuck to me like glue.

Mom: Oh, did Julie fall asleep?

Me: Um, no.  She couldn’t.  April was screaming too loudly and I couldn’t keep her quiet while I was busy chopping onions.

I was clearly pissed off and disgusted while I went to get the girls and tried to put April in her highchair.

Me: (murmuring) I love you, but I can’t wait until you’re 18 and I can kick you out of my house if you’re this obnoxious at that age.

[At this point, I'm going to dare you to tell me I'm a bad mother for saying that... and if you do, I'm going to hunt you down and force you to watch my Lil' Fang for a week straight while living under my parents' roof if you take me up on it.]

Mom: Oh Tamra, be patient with her.

(I shoot my mother a death glare that she doesn’t see.)

Put me out of my misery, dammit.  THIS IS JUST MADDENING.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, NO, Julie did not get her much-needed nap, and I am still listening to my mother bitch about how nauseous she was feeling at work AT THIS VERY SECOND.  Which, by the way, she’s always whining about and always comes to the same conclusion:  Oh, I’m dehydrated.  It’s super hot today and I didn’t get  enough water.

Heh, and she just asked me what I was typing.

Current Mood: Angry

An overwhelming sense of guilt is suffocating me today.  Well, not just today.  Last night, too.

While I know that our choice to move to Seattle and live a life that we actually want to be a part of is the healthiest decision for us and our girls, the manipulative tears and careful “let’s not mention the fact that you’re moving” attitude stemming from my mother is killing me. She’s a wonderful person.  She loves us all so dearly that she would never purposefully hurt me.  “Purposefully” being the key word.

Emotion other than happiness and anger is rarely seen in my family.  Sadness, mourning, tears- all of that has always been deemed stupid and unnecessary.

I wish that weren’t the case.  It’s not how we function in my own little family that James and I are raising.  Crying is never shameful- we know it’s a healthy, therapeutic part of life.  However, that doesn’t change the fact that tears and unhappiness have never been anything other than a means to hurt me in the family in which I grew up.  And tears on my own behalf has always been satisfactory proof to my family that they’ve succeeded in breaking me down.

I feel guilty for saying that.  For telling the world that the majority of the few times I’ve seen my mother cry has been because she was using it as a tool- probably unknowingly- to sway me to do things her way.  She’s not a bad person- very loving and sweet.  But we all have our damaging traits.  Passive aggressive manipulation is hers, and I’m a sucker for it.

Hurting people breaks me down on the inside in a way that I can’t even begin to explain.  Despite my bad-ass attitude, I am much too nice to everyone.  The thought of causing someone pain nearly cripples me, and when I am the source of some kind of strife, I can hardly breathe until I set things right.

My whole family and all of my local friends and acquaintances are not happy to see us move.  Especially my mother.

And for that, I apologize.  I feel sick to the core that so many people are hurting, but even worse that it’s made my mom cry.  It has made it nearly impossible for me to sleep lately- the knowledge that I’m hurting people keeps racing around my head and forcing me to dwell on the tears over and over again.

But the logical side of me knows that I can’t listen to this.

I have to do what’s good for me.  I have to get out of this place and learn how to live a life focused on myself and my family.  I have to learn how to take care of my own needs instead of putting everyone else first.

I suck at that, and living under my parents’ roof for this last week has proved to me just how weak I really am in this department.

I am nothing more than just that mommy-and-daddy’s girl fighting to please them and preserving everyone’s fragile hearts.

Sometimes, I hate myself for that weakness, but more than anything, I am angry that even with all the counseling and medication and positive changes in my life, I still can’t seem to find a way to break through the smothering guilt that has ruled my life.

Who care if I’m happy, just as long as I don’t cause any pain for anyone else.  No wonder I almost killed myself so many months ago.

Stupid.  As soon as I’m away from here, this will pass.  In the meantime, it’s threatening to break me down, and I’m unsure if I’m strong enough to fight it.

Current Mood: Angry & Sad

 Loading ...

No really, I’m curious.  Most people look at me like I sprouted a penis on my forehead when I tell them I’ll take clouds and rain over a sunny day.

Current Mood: Playful

It’s 111 degrees under my parents’ patio, the sky is a piercing blue with a few scattered puffy white clouds, and the wind is a giant dusty blow-dryer.

And I just got back from dropping James off at the airport, who will be in Seattle in a few short hours.  For me, though, they’re probably going to feel like the longest freaking 3 hours of my life.  I miss him so much already that it’s mildly embarrassing what a wuss I really am.

Okay, make that extremely embarrassing.  I’m sure all the military wives are swearing at me right now, and to be perfectly honest, I would be if I were one, too.  The strength they have is so amazing.  I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for them to go so long without being in their husband’s arms.

*sniffle*

I would have been fine, really.  I’m tougher than this.  But you see, then my mom started crying as she hugged my husband goodbye… and that sort of lodged a melon-sized lump in the back of my throat that refused to be swallowed during the long drive to the airport.   Then it erupted into a streamline of tears after I watched him walk through the airport’s double doors.

So it’s all my mom’s fault.

Yeah. That’s what it is.

Current Mood: Sad

A year ago, I woke up feeling a bit… odd, and I had a feeling that it just might be the day.  You know, the one where my vagina expels a human being from my body.

It was.  Several hours later, the contractions began.  Before I even knew what was happening, I was in a tub of warm water during a thunder storm in my living room and little Miss April Lynn was flying out of my loins at record speed.  While I hollered like a banshee, of course.

The labor was fast, nearly painless, and absolutely the most perfect birth a natural-birthing mama could ask for.

The events that followed April’s beautiful birth- the postpartum nightmare, the prolapse, the the therapy- were all inconceivable possibilities to me that night.  I was just so proud of my precious new daughter, and nothing could ruin that moment.

And you know what?  Even with all of that, she is still beyond worth it all.  She’s incredible, and my life is so much better with her on this earth.

By the way- now that we’ve moved out of our house, there’s a placenta in my parents’ freezer.

Don’t tell my dad and brother.  They’d pass out and hit the floor if they found out.

Happy birthday, my little patooter!  I love you!

Current Mood: Esctatic