I had a very bad day yesterday. My patience was short. My temper was a very noticeable size. I had a headache and the kids weren't in the frame of mind to...Well, MIND.
Moonpie and I had a big fight. About discipline. In front of the kids. He was too rough with Carson (my boy who is AFRAID of being thrown into the air or swung around by his legs) and so, Carson FREAKED out. Then Moonpie (more like an A$$pie right now), was verbally mean to him. Calling him a sissy and telling him to stop crying and acting like a little girl. So, that got me angry. Then Moonpie was about to swing Claudia around by her legs and Caden was all excited and toddled over and grabbed Claudia's hair, which was beautifully hanging down...And Moonpie just leaned over and slapped him on the upper arm, like 4 times. Hard. No verbal warning or anything. I went ballistic. He's a BABY. I know it hurt Claudia and all, but did he have to slap--his--arm??!! Wouldn't a loud NO and swat on the diapered bottom have worked? Caden screamed and RAN to Calie, the next closest person to him.
I snatched him up and asked Moonpie to "...NOT ABUSE THE KIDS PLEASE!!" But I really didn't ask him. So. He was to rough and tough. And I over reacted. No. Really I did. You mean you didn't hear me scream at him? In front of the kids. It really upset Calie. I was really upset, too. As usual it was all turned around and it was all my fault for "freaking out". So, I give up.
I can't do ANYTHING right. I give up. Whatever he says. I'll be the maid. The nanny. The cook. Whatever. I hid back 9 Vicodin. I will need them to stay cool. To keep calm and never raise my voice. To listen to his lecturing and controlling ass. To...Mind. It is either that or go insane again.
Today, he said I should take the kids to eat lunch and "do something with them". So we got dressed and I (he is at work...He is ALWAYS either at work or working out) took them. Then it started to rain so I took them to an indoor playground type thing. A man came up to me and pointed to Carson. "Is he yours?" "Umm, yes" "Well, my son made a big domino set-up and *he* (pointing to Carson) knocked it all over." I replied: "Oh well. That's a 4 year old for you." And I walked away. Ass. I should have said "Well sir, I will beat him when we get home. Will that make up for it?"
The house is clean and spaghetti is made. I will serve him dinner then clean up. I will bathe his children. Fold his clothes and turn down his bed. Then I will tuck his kids into bed and try to sleep. Or plan the day I run away.
I hope tomorrow I wake in a better state of mind. Or mood. Right now I feel down and out. Tired. Beaten down. Lost. Like a loser.
Please don't comment. Your good comments will make me feels bad. Your bad comments will make me hate you. This wasn't posted for sympathy/empathy or advice/assvice. Or a tongue lashing. It was posted as an outlet. I feel better just "saying" it.
PS: Labs came back on my vah jay-jay. It's all clear. No cancer. All lipoma. (yay)