Late Night Ramblings

Ahhhh. The life of a single mother.

Currently I'm forcing myself awake because I have a toddler who can't stop vomiting. And by vomit I mean dry heave, because she successfully expelled all the contents of her stomach in the first go round in an impressive impersonation of a shotgun. So now its just the most pathetic and sad attempt at what I can only describe as what a cat looks like trying to dislodge a hair ball every ten minutes or so.

Can I just side bar for a second and say that never ever ever in my life did I ever think it would be useful that my 2 year old can spit on command? I'm not sure where she got it from, and to be honest I wasn't enTIREly thrilled about the idea when she first started to do it. But now? WOW am I glad that I can tell her to spit into the bowl or the toilet and SHE DOES IT. And when she feels the urge to 'spit', she lets me know by pointing to the bowl with one sad little chubby hand and holding her mouth closed with the other. **happy dance in honor of a mommy that doesn't have to clean up vomit off the floor every ten minutes!**

So anyway. Here we are. And by we I mean me. She's resting. Which I know she needs because if her dry heaves are half as painful as they look, it's got to be wearing her out.

You know what the worst part about all of this is? My guilt. Not because I caused this. But because her and I haven't been very nice to each other the last couple of days. She's been...well...two, and I've been the never ending supply of patience. That was sarcasm. On the patience part, not the two part. So to keep myself from losing it with her when she acts like an ass hole, I send her to her room. We've been spending a lot of time doing that back and forth. Because she's every bit as stubborn as I am, and that's not good. And its exhausting. I have no relief. I can't walk away and let her father deal with her. Because he's not here. Nor has he even seen her in the last two weeks (his choice), but that's a whole other post. Regardless, I don't get to say to anyone, WATCH HER SO I CAN PUT A PLASTIC SACK OVER MY HEAD AND SCREAM.

Stand by...time to her to 'spit' again...

Ok. Where were we? Right. Plastic sack over my head. I love my daughter. I really do. But oh my God does she try every last inch of my being. And I was actually complaining about how its really starting to ruin my days to a coworker just yesterday. Because we start off with this little pissing contest. We get up, I get moving, she tells me NO with every request. Go take off your diaper and go potty. NO. Go get your panties. NO. Come here and let me put your clothes on you. NO. Need I go on? (NO) (oh come on, that was kinda funny). And I don't have the time to wait until she gets over standing there with her pouty face telling me no because I have to be at work at some point during the day. So I usually just shut down and manually start doing it without asking. When its time for her to get in the car, if she's saying no, I pick her up and put her in the car, kicking and screaming. All the way into the daycare. And so by the time I'm driving to work, I'm seriously contemplating stopping at the bar down the straight to spend my day there instead. So it puts me in a crappy mood. And so yesterday I was complaining, and I found myself wondering if I even like my own kid. OBVIOUSLY I love her, but like her? Sometimes not so much.

And now look at what's happening. She's laying on a towel on the couch, dry heaving to the point of choking every five to ten minutes, while I'm holding her and stroking her hair and telling her that Mommy's right here. And feeling like a complete tool.