Warning, I’m about to get a little bitchy.
Continuing with our recent pattern of clingy, fussy, tantrum throwing baby days, today has been no different. Liam went to bed with a little less fuss than normal lately, but woke up a few hours later, thanks to our noisy neighbors. It was hell to get him back to sleep, but when he finally drifted off, he slept through the night.
And then, morning came.
I woke up to his fussing over the monitor, and got up to make him a bottle. I went to his room to give him his bottle, and was greeted by him immediately starting in on a shrieking, wailing fit. Not exactly the first thing I wanted to deal with at 7:00 in the morning. I gave him his bottle, but he only drank a few ounces before tossing it into his crib bars, and continuing with his cries. I quickly picked him up to calm him down, but even that didn’t work. He pushed away from me, flailing his head back dramatically, and cried louder. I sat in the rocking chair with him and bounced him a bit, but that didn’t help either. After several more minutes, I decided that I (as well as my neighbors and sleeping fiance) was going to have to deal with the noise, because this baby needed a change.
More screaming and flailing as I laid him down on the changing table. Kicking and angry grunting as I took off his pants. Rolling and crying as I tried to put a clean diaper on him. I finally got him dressed again, and carried him to the living room, still sniffling a bit, and sat on the couch. I pushed away from me, and immediately dove for my phone, which had fallen out of my pajama pants pocket. I grabbed it from the couch before he could get it. BIG MISTAKE. This brought on yet another tantrum, which lasted a total of 10 minutes, where he picked up his toys that I had just gotten out for him, and threw them angrily. So I picked up his toys, put them all back in his box, and sat on the couch, staring at him until he stopped.
He eventually stopped, and came over to me, smiling, like it never happened. I wiped away my frustrated tears, and turned on Jake and the Neverland Pirates. At this point, Kyle conveniently walked out of his bedroom, stole my blanket, and laid down on the floor to play with Liam, and I got up to make breakfast.
After venting briefly on Facebook about how Kyle is working SIX 12-hour long shifts this week, leaving me 100% alone with our son, and no escape from our apartment, I was bombarded with comments and messages from Kyle’s aunts, grandparents, and mom, all telling me to just “take a break” from Liam.
Are you joking? Liam has never gone more than an hour without me, and even then, he was with Kyle. Who would I leave him with? The only person would be Kyle’s mom, who lives 45 minutes away, and would have to drive here, and stay in our apartment, just so I could… what? Leave the room? Sit in Kyle’s room and stare at the ceiling? Take a nap? Why? I can’t go anywhere, or do anything. And even if leaving was an option, which it isn’t, Liam doesn’t do well with other people. At all. And I can’t do any housework, because if I’m in sight, and not with him, Liam has a conniption. So, what’s the point? I don’t like when people tell me to “take a break” from my son, as if it’s so damn easy. Especially when they know my situation.
I don’t get breaks. I don’t even NEED a break. What I need, is for Kyle’s first job to respect his availability change that he put in MONTHS ago, stop screwing with his hours, and hire more people so that he doesn’t have to work open to close EVERY day this week. I need my partner, and Liam needs his dad, so that I can get something, anything, done in this damn house. Or, ya know, leave the house.
Anyway. Thanks for reading.