Sorry, this isn’t the "life lesson" post I wanted
to write, but I need to vent. I’ll come back to that later. Things are a little
tough right now and I’m feeling hacked off with, well, everything!
Taters is taking longer and longer to go to
sleep at night (a bad evening used to mean an hour to get him down, now that’s
stretched out to an hour and a half) That’s an hour and a half sitting in a
dark room soothing and stroking and shushing… and slowing losing your sanity. When
I finally stagger downstairs all the life is drained out of me and there’s
barely any evening left to enjoy. It’s wearing me out. Then about an hour or so
after we go to bed he cries out and more often than not ends up in bed with us.
Now usually this works and we all get a reasonable nights sleep, except there
are those nights, like last night and
the night before, and the odd night last week, where he takes anything up to
three hours to go back to sleep. And it’s hard to ignore him when I’m being
jumped on, elbowed, nearly suffocated, head butted… Getting edged off the
pillow and bed are the least of my problems.
I don’t know how much more I can take. I’ve
tried to be all earth mother about this, not letting him cry it out, making
sure he feels secure and his needs are met, but it’s not working – I’m far too
soft! My kid is evil – I think he wants to destroy me. Is this my fault because
I was so stressed out when I was pregnant?
I’m starting to think I must be doing something
wrong… I feel like such a rank amateur compared to other mums. For example, why
is it at playgroups all the other mums get to chat to one another while their
kids play nearby, I’m the one being dragged around everywhere by my son who won’t
be parted from me? I’m starting to feel like an outsider watching friendships
form around me while I only get to exchange a few words with other mums before
getting dragged away.
There was a really lovely event at the playgroup
the other week where they had a folk three piece playing nursery rhymes. I was
really looking forward to it, I thought Taters would love it since he adores
music. But no, while all the other little darlings sat on their mums knees, or
danced all cutely – mine was screaming his head off at the back. I would have
made a discreet about-turn but the room was so full we couldn’t actually get
out… it was a nightmare, I almost had to climb out of the toilet window with
him. Perhaps he hates folk music? Maybe he’s a punk in the making?
And this isn’t the only strop I’ve had to
contend with, far from it. I’m sick of trying to explain it away as he’s tired
or teething or getting ready for his dinner. He’s just mardy. End of.
Only last weekend I was carrying him around IKEA
under my arm while he screamed blue murder because I’d moved him on from the
kids section – that’s no easy task considering he weighs over 2 stone and is
bloody strong. We left without half the things we needed because I couldn’t
think straight. My own mother admitted she didn’t know how I coped!
Then there was the kid’s party the weekend
before. Husband got to socialise with other people but me, I was being led
around the gardens by my little wanderer and whenever I tried to get him to
stay in one place long enough to actually communicate with another human being
he would throw a paddy until we moved on.
I let my husband stay on that evening and took Taters
home to bed but you know what, by then I was feeling pretty lonely and fed up
with myself. Because this is how it is every time. I’m forgetting how to
actually socialise with people and I was always kind of shy to start with so
this is making the isolation worse.
I know, I know, the answer is staring me in the
face too. I’ve been far too soft, I get so embarrassed at his public tantrums that
I cave in, and out of the public eye I was so passionate about making him feel
loved and secure and adored that I’ve never left him to cry it out and whenever
he needed me, I’ve dropped everything and been there. But he’s running rings around me isn’t he? It’s
just another thing that makes me feel like I’m getting this all wrong! My lack
of mothering instinct is humiliating! Maybe he isn’t the kind of kid who
responds to that kind of upbringing?
But you know, if you heard his grandparents
talking about him, you’d think we were talking about a different kid. To them
he is a sweet natured little angel who rarely cries. WTF??
Oh god I couldn’t love that little boy anymore
if I tried, but I feel like I’m getting it all wrong, over and over.
Maybe if I can just sleep tonight things won’t
feel so crap in the morning? Maybe…
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| He's a meanie to his mummy! |
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