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03:03 pm: meh
I'm crabby.* I'm not exactly sure why. Could be postpartum depression, which sometimes hits after weaning. Could be the torn rotator cuff. Could be the stress. Could be PMS. (Could be that I know it will be PMS if it isn't already, 'cause I know for a fact there's no alternative at the moment.) Could be that Peter's response is not "honey I love you, you're wonderful," but "yes, you're crabby and yes, it's easier when you work in the office." This is one time when I'd love to hear how wrong I am.


It's probably all of the above, and I'm not handling it particularly well.

Mostly, I love my life. I love my family. I love my job, to the extent that any job deserves the same verb as people. But sometimes the stress of being the sole breadwinner really gets to me. There's no safety net, y'know? If I lose my job (no great risk of that, afaik), or if something happens to my health (far more likely), we'll survive, but on a much different level.

I also keep thinking we're really close to putting the house on the market... and we are, truly. But there's a bit more to do, and it's much, much harder to do one-handed.

I tell myself, and I know - in my head, which is much quieter than my heart just now - that no matter what we get for this house it will (a) be a huge profit over what I bought it for 13 years ago and (b) enable us to buy a nicer, roomier place in western Mass. But I have moments of panic, when I realize how much more we would have made on it last fall (yes, when prices where we're buying were also higher - I'm not claiming that I'm being reasonable), when I just... worry.

Teddy and I aren't getting along particularly well today, which doesn't help. He hates it when I can't pick him up (I vaguely remember this from when I had my gallbladder out), but I think he also just knows I'm in a bad mood.

How hard is it to tell, after all? I'm snapping his head off every other minute.

It's been a Bad Parenting Day for me. I think I'm gonna give up and park the kid in front of a video when he wakes up from his nap. An hour with an electronic babysitter is better than an hour with his flesh-and-blood nasty Mommy.

* Or, as Teddy would say it: "I'm NOT CWABBEH!" (Yes, "not." The child knows his denial.)

Current Location: Boston
Current Mood: stressedwhiney


[User Picture]
Date:April 20th, 2008 11:02 pm (UTC)

I'm sorry!

I don't have any words of wisdom except that if something happened, to any of you, we'd be there for you... that we'll miss you when you're farther away but will still visit... that PMS/PPD/weaning/injury sucks a$$... that I wish your dh would read into what you need to hear and just say it... that the electronic babysitter won't hurt Teddy today... that feeding cwabbeh is a yucky way to feel.

OC and dd (and yes, dh) love you very much.
[User Picture]
Date:April 21st, 2008 12:05 pm (UTC)

:sniff: Thanks!

Your support means a lot, thank you!

I wish DH would read into it what I need to hear too, but that's kinda asking for mind-reading, which isn't fair either (but I still WANT it, dammit!).
[User Picture]
Date:April 24th, 2008 12:15 am (UTC)
Crabby days are always difficult parenting days. Don't beat yourself up over it. Our children have their fair share of crabby days (or minutes/hours each day sometimes), so we are entitled to occasionally be crabby ourselves. You have a lot going on right now. I hope that you are feeling more like your upbeat, sassy, funny and loveable (and loving) self soon.
[User Picture]
Date:April 24th, 2008 09:33 am (UTC)


It's been a tough week, but things are looking up. :)
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