Never go for the kill when you can go for the pain.

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Started with a little bit scratchy throat yesterday afternoon, and now it's full-on scratchy with a ton of congestion. Yay. No fever, tho, so it looks like it will just be an annoyance and nothing major. I felt like crap last weekend with suspected strep (got results back Tuesday that it wasn't), but since I was kid free, I got to lay around, sleep and recover pretty quickly. Since I'm on mommy duty this weekend, there's no rest for the weary.

It's funny how when I'm alone and feeling somewhat rough, I'll veg out in jammies and not leave the house. When the girls are here, I'm dragged out of bed before 6:00 and forced into cheerful conversations and outings no matter how bad I feel. I'd love to be sleeping now, and then sacking out on the couch for a day of football, but I know that's as likely to happen as me suddenly being paid what I'm worth :)

I've been hurting a bit lately. Not sure why, tho the fact that I'm obviously very easy to replace and it's yet another holiday season alone isn't helping at all. While he's doing serious relationship #2, I'm still sitting here trying to come to terms with how to make love stay and how not to be played for a fool again.

I still don't understand how and why my marriage had to end, and since I'm the kind of person who really likes to understand things fully and to learn lessons, it's very hard for me not to dwell. Marriage isn't supposed to be easy or blissful all the time, it isn't supposed to be "oh, things aren't the way I thought they'd be, so I'll just look for a greener pasture", but with 50% of marriages ending in divorce, it's obvious that a lot of folks aren't making the effort that marriage requires. And it scares me and makes me feel so vulnerable, because I never want to go through any of this again.

And since someone who promised to love and honor me forever, someone who I really believed understood that forever meant forever, could throw me away like garbage when things got hard, how can I ever make that promise or believe that promise again? What's the point? It feels like it would be easier and safer to just never risk all that again. Because going through that much pain again is not something I can deal with.

Ah, yeah. That took a 180-degree turn from just not feeling well. I get a little faklempt when I'm sick ... kinda maudlin and emotional. Makes things that I'm still working on inside percolate just a little too close to the surface. Going through a divorce as a mom of young kids means you don't get to spend time just wallowing and submerging yourself in everything you feel; you have to hold back and compartmentalize, and for me that seems to have led to prolonged processing. Instead of being able to rip the bandaid off, I've had to pick away at it.

I couldn't cry and rant in front of the girls, couldn't say what I wanted to say, or even really feel what I wanted to feel, because I was and am too focused on making it as easy on them as possible. So I have to smile and nod and engage while Bean talks about the girlfriends and their kids, while he just goes ahead and smashes my kids' lives into whatever relationship he's working on. Because I can't just say "I am so friggin' SICK of hearing about so-and-so and her kids!" or scream when Bean says for the hundredth time that weekend: "Kid so-and-so this, Miss so-and-so that. I went hiking with Miss so-and-so; I want to be just like kid so-and-so."

Ugh. That all sounds so bitter, and that's why I've been holding back on posting. I want to talk about this stuff, but I also don't want to sound like I'm all man-hating and bitter. I'm not, I don't think. I don't want any of this to still be bothering me or to still be hurting ... When you loved somebody as much as I loved him, and believed in your life as much as I did, I guess it's hard to look forward and say "I could risk all that again." I date, but I hold myself back. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to let myself go again.

I'll close with a Beanism. Just to lighten the mood a little, because I hate to be all Debbie Downer. She and I were watching a big cat show on Animal Planet, and she was a little down about having watched cheetah cubs take out a Thompson's gazelle fawn. As she watched a group of cheetah take down an Grant's gazelle, she cheered herself up and said "Oh rock on! They just killed a male gazelle. They know they shouldn't kill mommy or big sister gazelles because they are more lovable."

Oh yes she did.
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That's my girl. Always doing the over-the-top thing.

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Another day, another humiliation.

Took Bean and Miss O to breakfast this a.m., thinking I'd spring the little one for a day of hooky before they start at the new school tomorrow. We were supposed to meet Julia and her kiddos.

We got there and Bean wanted to sit outside. It was 50-ish degrees this a.m., and her friend didn't want to sit outside. Commence full-on meltdown. Complete with screaming, running away, yelling and histrionics of epic proportions. Seriously. Epic.

After 5 minutes of trying to talk/calm her down (which, I've finally realized, only ramps the whole production up in scope and scale) I had to make good on my "if you can't calm down, we have to leave" promise and drag her out. All while holding Miss O. And in front of a cop, who thankfully gave me a knowing smile.

Or maybe that's the smile they give all whack jobs before running plates and starting a file. Who knows.

Of course, there was more freaking out in the parking lot, and when I got her strapped in, she was screaming and flailing and kicking the tar out of the seat in front of her. Got out of my seat, walked around the van, punched a side panel to let a little pressure off, then moved the seat so she couldn't kick it. As we drove home, I eventually went down the rabbit hole too and engaged in a screaming match with her.

(The awesomeness of my parenting truly knows no bounds. Don't hate. We can't all be this good.)

So by 9:00 my day was crap and I was offering to Miss O "do you want to go to school?" and she was responding with her new "yeah. yeah-yeah-yeah" reply that I took to mean: "Does the pope wear a funny hat? You two nutjobs or eight 18-24 month olds? Bring on the relative Zen of biters and naps on mats, please."

I dropped O off, let them know it was her last day there, then came back out to the car. Where I was greeted by a tranquil Bean who just wanted to chat peacefully, and with a smile, about how she knows she need to make better choices and that she just needs a nap.

And in my head I'm backing away slowly, smiling, and making non-threatening eye-contact with the psycho who is now sucking her fingers and asking for classical music so she can sleep. And from that point forward, we had a damn good day.

Within the span of an hour we went from absolutely fine, to the lowest of lows, and then back up to mellow and Zen. If anyone wonders why I get a little twitchy sometimes, now you know. I'm an unwilling passenger on the emotional rollercoaster that is life with the Bean.

I'm reading "The Sensory-Sensitive Child: Practical Solutions for Out-of-Bounds Behavior" and it's so dead-on balls accurate for Bean it's kinda spooky at times. And I'm totally kicking myself for not listening to the people who flagged sensory issues as long as two years ago. I have got to call her PT for an OT recc, and also circle back around with the child psychologists I touched base with last weekend. I'm not sure how much help a psychologist will provide, because until Bean's able to integrate and accommodate her sensory stuff, we can give her all the tools and all the words in the world, and I don't think it will make a difference.

To my local friends, I'm trying to convince her to stop confronting kids and to go to their parent or a teacher if the kid's behavior is bothering her. So she may come off as a tattletale or a nut, and for that I'll apologize in advance. But if you could just help me out a little and try to help Bean with her issue, I'd appreciate it. If she needs more space, or thinks someone took something or she doesn't want to talk to your kid, I'm trying to get her to tell me, you or a teacher instead of screaming at the kid and lashing out.

After that horrific start to the day, she and I had a fabulous time. We shopped (window shopped, mostly, as I'm all cheap these days. But she did get a $1 doll from the Dollar Tree store at the mall), had lunch at Boston Market (where up to two kids eat free with one adult, which rocks for single parents!), got her to clean up the playroom here and then went to the park and had a great adventure walk. Her listening was amazing, and we talked about all kinds of stuff. And even though I haven't had a break in 8 days, and have had some truly awful moments in that time, I was sad to see her leave with her dad this evening and miss her already.
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Is she moping around in the dark like..... nobody around here. Hmm-mmm.

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Kill.
Me.

Please. Do it now.

I have spent the past hour listening to Miss O scream at me for one variation on the "I can't possibly take a nap alone" theme or another. First the screaming because she wasn't in the backpack. I was laying right damn next to her and she was still screaming.

Put her in the crib. More screaming. Got her remotely calm and quiet and try to step out. More screaming. Stepped back for some pats and soothing, tried to leave, more screaming. Sat with head pressed against crib rails, calmed her down. Moved to bed. More screaming. Calmed her again.

Tried to lay down on the floor to give my back a break. More screaming. Calmed her down again. She was nearly asleep, I stepped out. More screaming. Mind you, at that point it was 2:00 and I hadn't eaten lunch. Closed door, let her scream, took a few bites of my now-cold frozen dinner.

Went back in. Calmed her down. Realized I have to pee. Badly. Laid on bed and talked in soothing voice, she started to konk out, I stepped out to pee before my bladder exploded, but left the door open so she knew she wasn't "alone". More screaming.

I decided to leave her in there a little while with the door open, but she's still screaming and not calming down. We're at the 50-minute mark now and I have. had. it. I need to get so damn much stuff done because I was sick yesterday, including preparing for a great job interview tomorrow, and she sleep sfine in a bed at her dad's so WTF?!?

I've gone back in, tried to calm her, she won't sleep and you know what? She can just scream for a few minutes while I type all this out and attempt to decompress. Because right now? I'm inclined to let her scream until bedtime, I'm that sick of the battle.

Added to that, I've wrapped up my taxes and thanks to Dave taking both girls as dependents, claiming Head of Household and me having to claim half of the damn economic stimulus I supposedly got, I'm down a boatload of money and feeling damn pissy about it. He should get the dependents, since he has actual income and probably needs the help they provide as deductions, but damn, I'm just frustrated with giving up so damn much money. None of it is his fault, per se, it's just easier to blame him than the headless entity of the IRS.

And Miss O is still freakin' screaming. And I can now add hollering "lay down and go to sleep!" to the list of things that don't work.

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Today is going to go down as the day I can't believe I didn't throw myself in front of a goddamn train.

It's 8:30. I have an interview tomorrow at 9 that I have been trying to prepare for all day. But you already read how well trying to get some alone time today went. And now O is awake - again. For the second time in 20 minutes. I spent an hour getting her to sleep. I get her nursed down and asleep, I walk out, she is up 5 minutes later. And I'm going to put my fist through a freakin' wall here in a minute.

This isn't even a little fair. How the hell am I supposed to shine with no sleep and/or no prep?

When I was in there this last time, I just wanted to scream and cry and kick something because it's just one of those days where I get to pay and pay (sometimes literally) for the damn divorce and I just want to grab Dave and shake him and ask him why the hell he was such a cowardly weasel and why the hell he did this to me. None of this is my idea of a good time - the single parent gig blows sometimes, I've been screwed royally on taxes and lost a huge chunk of what should have been my nest egg (whole 'nother story that I'm not sharing with the world at large, suffice to say one small oversight on my part = major screwage in my retirement fund) - and now I'm scrambling to prepare while I deal with a fever and a wracking cough. All of this is his fault. All of it.

Rationally and in the "not a few bubbles out of plumb" part of my mind I know that isn't a fair assessment of the situation, but with my internal pity party going full bore, it's hard to be anything resembling objective. I just want to curl up in a ball and cry and feel sorry for myself. But O is coughing again, so I'll probably just have to stop mid-cry and go deal with her anyways.
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