with some much needed bitching and griping.
April is over. Thank god. What a sucky, crappy, insane, long, fast, shitty month. Harper cut two teeth and two molars at the same time - I don't think she or I have sleeped in the past two weeks. And now that her teeth have broken through, she's still on this mommy-fixation kick because surprise! Mommy is the only one who's really taken care of her during this time. Who got up with her five times a night? Mommy. Who comforted her during the day? Mommy. Who can always get Harp to take a bottle and snuggle up to read a story and calm down? Mommy. So now who is the only person Harper wants at bedtime? Mommy. And who does she still want five times a night because now it's habit? Yup.
And on top of her need for me, Marc's allergies have been kicking his ass this month and making him totally useless. I was sympathetic for awhile, but after a couple of weeks I got downright pissed off. I told him last fall when his allergies hit that I should make him an appointment to get his allegra renewed. He said no, he had some flonase and that worked just fine. I told him over the winter that I should make him an appointment so he could get his allegra renewed so he'd have it before allergy season hit. He said no, that he has some flonase and that will be fine. Spring came and he started sneezing, so I told him I was going to make him an appointment with the doctor to get his allegra renewed. Amazingly, he still said no, he had flonase and that worked fine.
Except when it doesn't.
So after a couple of weeks of hearing him sneeze and wheeze and moan and sigh, I finally made him an appointment. And before he could get to the doc, he got a migraine on top of the allergies. So I finally made him that appointment to get a check-up on those too. Now he's finally on allegra again, but I think he waited so long that he's now one giant walking ball of snot. It's lovely. And he's rather incapable of being present in our daily lives.
And I'm fucking tired.
And guess what? Our plans to go to Maine in October for our tenth anniverary? And for our first vacation in seven - yes, you read that correctly - seven years is now kaput. Turns out when Marc was laid off last spring and he worked independently over the summer, we were unable to withhold anything. And now we owe taxes. For the first time ever. So the signing bonus he got at GMAC that was to go to Maine is now going to the government. And I, having been walking a very thin line between sanity and lunacy for about three years now and really NEED a good long break, am about to step off that line and go completely mental.
I need help. I can't do it all by myself, with no hope of a light at the end of the tunnel. I can't be expected to just give and give and give all day every day with nothing given back in return and yet remain happy and calm and stable. There are no grandparents or aunts and uncles nearby to take the kiddos for a night. There are no breaks. There is no help. I have a son with a constant schedule. I have a daughter who is in instant hysterics the minute I leave the room. And I have a husband with an apparently very delicate consistency who can't be bothered lest he get another sneezing fit because he moved or migraine because he didn't get 12 hours of sleep.
I've discovered that I cannot tolerate weakness. It's a bad, bad trait of mine, but there you go. Weak people piss me off and I have no patience and sympathy for them. I'm a horrible person. Shoot me now.
Is it so wrong to want a vacation? Is it so wrong to be mad with Marc because he can't take the kids for a day and give me some peace? Is it so wrong of me to be irritated with him that in the 13 months of Harper's life he's taken her out by himself a grand total of TWICE? And both times because I had to say You! Go! Now!! Somehow I manage to schlep those kids all over the place day in and day out and we live. Why can't he? Why can't he give me one goddamn day of peace and quiet? Why do I have to stay up until midnight every night, knowing full well that I'll be up every hour and a half with Harper between then and 7 a.m., just so I can get in some time for watching a show I want to watch or scrapping or cleaning up my area or reading a magazine? And on top of that be expected to not get irritated when Marc finally gets up, showers himself, irons his shirt, meets all his own needs, and waltzes out the door happy as can be half an hour later, off to a day with adults and lunches out (Indian - my favorite - twice last week alone, as I eat leftovers or peanut butter) and alone time in the car. As I sit there inevitably arguing with Henry, fighting to get Harper to eat, in need of a shower, the kitchen a mess, a big ol' To Do list for the day, and a total feeling like my life is one giant blackhole of anything remotely resembling my own life.
Sigh ... here it is, 11:38. Harper went to bed at 7:30. Marc went to bed around 8ish. Harper got up around 9:30 and after three tries I got her to sleep around 10. Now, 1 hour and 48 minutes later, she's fussing again. I guess that's my cue to try once again to shush her and then go to bed before my night of a million wake-ups begins.
I haven't been a downer for awhile, but I needed it tonight before I popped. I'm heartbroken about not getting a little break in October. Seven years, people!! I deserve some time to be pissed about that! And yes, I probably shouldn't whine and gripe about Marc, and I'm sure he'll read this and I'll get an earful for once again "portraying him unfairly." But geez ... he gets to eat Indian food with adults while they talk about interesting things and he doesn't have to try to eat and talk while simultaneously feeding an octopus who refuses to eat and reign in a six-year-old with ants in his pants and a serious agenda of his own, and then finally manage to eat eight bites of now-cold tikka masala before the kids need to be cleaned up and put down for a nap and gotten on a bus and had their teeth brushed and gotten the floor mopped and fed the cat and maybe peed for the first time that day without trying to keep a kid from slamming her fingers in the cupboard door or eating her brother's toothbrush because she's just far enough out of reach that leaning over to grab the toothbrush would result in peeing on the toilet seat because heaven forbid peeing alone should happen - that would be too much to ask! Vacation? Seriously. I can't even get five minutes ... a whole week was a pipe dream.
But he's right. I shouldn't complain. Cuz afterall, the work weekend he was supposed to do over Mother's Day was rescheduled, and he bought me flowers the other day with a note "reminding me" that he loves me with all his heart. Because that makes it all better. So I'll just shut up now and go count my blessings before blessing no. 3 wakes up completely for the second time of the night ... and we're not even to midnight yet.
Bitter? Party of one? Um, yeah.