Saturday, July 23, 2011
Beaten by a 5 month old
I'm dying. Slowly. Painfully. The life is being ripped from my chest by a 15 lbs blue eyed wailing ball of tears. I wake up in the morning look at the clock and start to count the hours and minutes until her first nap. When I must lay her in her crib and walk out of the room while she reaches for me and screams. Big crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks. It takes about eight minutes of screaming and the baby monitor goes silent. The occasional sobbing hiccup the only noise. And I look at the clock and count the hours and minutes until I must start the battle all over again. Everyone keeps telling me how proud they are and honestly when I hear this I want to junk punch them in their man business. It's only a natural part of childhood I hear. LIARS! I am the mommy. If this was natural I would feel it. Breastfeeding is natural. Making her smile and laugh is natural. THIS IS NOT! It goes against every mothering instinct I have. And if things couldn't get worse, now that Bug thinks I'm torturing her she is on a potty training strike. We were so close. Down to four diapers a day. I guess the moral of the story is there's only one way to go from the rock bottom. Up. And now I will quit focusing on the negitive and count the minutes until she wakes up, realizes I'm waiting right by her crib, and gives me the biggest toothless smile and my heart mends itself just a little.