Today sucks. Sorry for the negativity right off the bat, but it does. I have been awake since 3:50 this morning since Emily woke up and decided she didn’t want to go back to sleep. And I’m angry and frustrated and just emotional because I feel like I’m alone. Alone right now because I’ve been up since 3:50 by myself, alone because I had to peel my daughter off of me in order to leave her at school – while she turned red and started bawling her eyes out because she was exhausted and just wanted to be with me (if that doesn’t make you feel like a shitty mom, you have no heart or soul), alone because I have to decide whether or not to go with my dad to an Easter service at the cemetery the week before my mom’s birthday and it’s only my decision and no one else’s, alone because when I told Rob about Emily this morning he offered not one word of support to me but said “aww, something must be wrong” as if the only one that needed sympathy or empathy was the little person who can’t explain why she was awake in the first place. And I’m angry that it seems like everything has gone wrong today from that moment at 3:50 to right now. I had to clean up the yogurt that she spread everywhere – twice – this morning, I had to deal with her melt-down because she was so tired and didn’t want to get dressed for school, I had to clean up the refrigerator from some melon that partially exploded all of my carton of eggs, I ran out of my regular hair stuff and discovered that I bought the wrong stuff yesterday, I have to train a class today on very little sleep and very little to no patience, I woke up with a killer headache and no will to get up to deal with her let alone the rest of my day, she tossed a bunch of bath toys all over the bathroom that I had to clean up. And tonight, oh look, I get to go pick her up at school and take her home – alone – and deal with her (she who will surely be super cranky) until bedtime and then when I go to bed I will spend the night hoping and praying that she sleeps until I get her up. Today just sucks and there is nothing that will make me happy. It would be nice to hear some encouraging, supportive words from him today but I am not holding my breath for that miracle to arrive.
I don’t know who’s Cheerios I pissed in but clearly, I have angered someone for this type of thing to keep happening. Every single time I have something important to do at work, especially lately, she wakes up in the middle of the night or nice and early in the morning and messes me up. (Not to mention that she slept through every night that I was away, which wasn’t what we expected at all.) I can’t be a stay at home mom, for a number of reasons, so if someone/somewhere wants me to be and this is their idea of persuading me to do it, you are barking up the wrong tree!
And on days like this, when I’m exhausted and frustrated, I am more emotional than I care to be. Just the thought of my mom brings me to the brink of tears. Anything that goes badly or goes wrong, like cleaning up the yogurt two times this morning, brings me to tears. I know that there were a few other things that happened this morning that made me cry, I can’t remember what they are since I was barely functional at 4am, but right now I’m sitting here with tears in my eyes because of my mom. Nothing specific, just thoughts of her. Just thinking that if this is HER messing with me, which wouldn’t surprise me, it would be proof in my eyes that she’s mad at me for all that I tried to do FOR her before she died. But she didn’t think of it that way. She saw me as meddling where it wasn’t my place; she told my sister that I should have just called the neighbors to tell them she was sick because I had called everyone else. I called two doctors when I found out her weight was down to 96 or 93 pounds (the number was so important then but seems irrelevant now). But that was wrong of me to do as far as she was concerned and she didn’t talk to me for about a week or two because of it. And I’m sure she thought I was behind the hospital admission. And now, who knows. Maybe she thinks it’s my fault that she’s not here; maybe she knows that I was the one sitting on the couch that day with my Dad, saying “she has to go, she has no real choice, I will get her there one way or another if I have to physically pick her up myself” the day that she was refusing to agree to go the hospital. I was the one that told the nurse that we were ready to do it, order the morphine; I was the one that told my dad and my sister time and time again that this was the right thing to do. I was the one that sat there, on the side of the bed that she was facing, as she took her last breaths. So maybe she does hate me. Which is just a fantastic thought to have about your dead mom. It was bad enough that, while she was alive, I always knew my sister was her favorite but to know that it could have carried over to the after-life even after all that I did and all that I endured for her, just hurts like hell. More than her being gone does.
Sorry for the pity-party, today sucks and I’m feeling bad about a lot of things right now. Hopefully with some sleep tonight (please God, let her sleep tonight), my outlook and attitude will be a little better tomorrow.
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