Tag: cooking

Dream Journal 8/20/17 | Halloween

I was in a large common area with a bunch of other people my age. All along the walls were numerous, small kitchen units, which looked outdated, yet were somehow futuristic. Continue reading “Dream Journal 8/20/17 | Halloween”

Small Stones | 8/2/16

I stood in front the refrigerator, searching. The fridge was nearly empty. My stomach growled again, and I reached for a bottle, nestled between the mustard and the Sriracha. Zesty Italian dressing is no substitute for olive oil, but it was really all I had. Continue reading “Small Stones | 8/2/16”

Advertisement

Alone

I’ll never understand just how single parents do it. They are honestly superheroes. I’m not even a single mother, but I feel like I am more often than not. Since day one, I have changed every poopy diaper (yes, every poopy diaper), and most of the wet ones. I have cooked and fed every meal. I have executed every bath, and read every story. Given every dose of medicine. I have put him down for every nap, and every bed time. I have woken up with him night after night, and rocked him back to sleep. I am the one who wakes up with him every morning. Just last night, he woke up at 1:30, and would not go back to sleep, not matter what I did. We spent hours rocking, and got nowhere. My back was on fire from the crappy, old rocking chair, and I was so exhausted that I was fighting the urge to throw up all over his sweet face. I ended up lying down uncomfortably on the couch in the living room around 3:00 in the morning, and he fell asleep on top of me from 5:00-7:30. All I could do was try to cry silently, like I’ve been doing most nights lately, and try not to wake him up. I got no sleep. None.

His separation anxiety is so extreme this time. It has never been this bad. He screams and screams and screams when I try to put him in his crib, if I even lean over it. He wakes up the second I put him in there, even if I’ve been rocking him for an hour, and he was passed out. He open his eyes, stand up, and scream.

This morning, he refused to nap, just like every day for the last week. This sleep regression/cold/ear infection/teething/separation anxiety has hit him like a ton of bricks, and it is wearing me thin. He has been so fussy during the day, and it has been so hard to get anything done, whether at home or in town, because he is just so clingy and upset. I tried to leave him with his father today, so I could try and get a few moments of sleep, but honestly, I don’t trust him with him. I know he would probably never hurt him, but he has a very short fuse, and a very bad temper, and often raises his voice at him, or cusses at him, and it makes me so angry. Sure, I get angry sometimes, and I’ve raised my voice more often than I’d like to admit in just the last week, but he just gets ridiculous. Nevermind the fact that our son is barely over a year old, and doesn’t even understand what is going on, but what reason does HE have to be upset? He doesn’t DO anything. He has never spent a night, getting zero sleep, rocking in a creaky rocking chair for 3 hours. He got 10 hours of sleep last night! So, I do everything. I sacrifice sleep to make sure his diaper is always clean, or that he gets his meals on time, because Kyle always seems to “forget” or “lose track of time” when I leave him alone with him, even for an hour, so I can sleep, even though he is just sitting on his ass playing a game, or watching TV. I hate it.

I made a comment out loud to my son today, a bit passive aggressively, about how I was too exhausted to make lunch, but that I had to, because no one else would, and Kyle stormed off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him, to play his Gameboy (yep, talking about a grown man here). He gets so upset when I voice my frustration about doing 90% of the work when it comes to our son and our household, yet he throws these tantrums, and shuts himself in the bedroom for hours, leaving me even more alone. Proving my point. I’ve been asking him to get out to the laundromat for the last three days to do some laundry, since we are completely out of clean clothes, and he just keeps forgetting. A few days ago, I asked him if he would help me with the dishes, not DO the dishes, just help me, since I had already done nearly half of them, and our son was clinging to me, whining to be picked up. He just ignored me.

Last night was trash night, one of the only chores he will partake in, if I don’t do it, and he always waits until we are going to bed to do it. I was already under the covers, with the lights off, and with my glasses on the end table, when he came in and asked me to get the kitchen garbage out, and empty Liam’s diaper bin for him, which is something I always seem to end up doing for him. I stood my ground, and told him to just do it. He made sure to make as much noise as possible, sighing and gagging dramatically, cussing at the garbage bin when he dropped it and made noise. Then he came to bed, in a huff, and rolled over angrily. Absolutely unnecessary. And I get bitchy, and I get passive aggressive, and he brings out the worst in me. I don’t mean to, but I just get so upset. He doesn’t fight, we never fight. And that is a problem. He doesn’t talk back, because he doesn’t talk at all. He just shuts off, often storming off to the bedroom. And nothing gets done. I am so tired of it.

I love him, I really do, and I know he loves me and his son, but this is frustrating, and it is destroying me. I am exhausted, my blood pressure is through the roof, and I have been so, so depressed. I am tired of the bullshit excuses, and the immaturity. I want him to grow up, but he just won’t. I want him to listen to me, and understand how hard this has been for me, and what I am going through. The only reason I keep going is because I know that my son needs me, and no one else will take care of him.

But I’ve been having days lately, where the prospect of simply disappearing, leaving everything behind, seems more and more tempting.

I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t feel this overwhelmed, and this alone, when his father is RIGHT THERE. He doesn’t even work this week. He has been home for days, and will be home for the rest of the week, but… nothing. He won’t help me. It honestly feels like he doesn’t care.

I am at the end of my rope. I just want a break. A nap. Some quiet. I need help, and I have no one. Some days, I feel like it would be better if I actually were alone, then I would only have one toddler to deal with. Only one person’s messes to constantly clean up.

Anyway, thanks for reading, friends. Thank you for letting me vent. I’m off to feed my overly exhausted kiddo a snack, and try to get him to take a nap, even though I know it won’t happen.

Jan

Dream Journal 2/28/16

Future.

All I remember is that Kyle, Liam, and I were living in a post-apocalyptic city, which resembled the city from the movie I Am Legend (NYC?). We went walking down a street, littered with old cars, piles of debris, and overgrown plants. Liam was 3 years old or so, and had long, curly hair. I was wearing him in a large, custom baby carrier on my back, which was also equipped with swords, machetes, and all sorts of other weaponry.

I was wearing a torn shirt, which revealed my tummy, which had miraculously developed some hardcore abs. Kyle was shirtless, and had some pretty intense ab action going on as well, as well as a massive gun strapped to his back. We were walking down the empty street, when a large pack of dogs ran by, yet didn’t seem to notice us. I could see the shadow of a large bird fly over us, though it looked more like a pterodactyl. Kyle made a series of hand signals to me, and I shushed Liam, before ducking behind one of the cars on the side of the road. Kyle hid behind a nearby tree, just in time for the large, bird/pterodactyl shadow to circle back around, flying over us again, lower this time. After it was gone, Kyle motioned for me to run, and I ran ahead, and shut Liam and myself into a nearby building. I heard a loud, terrifying siren, like the sirens in Silent Hill, and a few moments later, Kyle was standing in the doorway.

Darkness fell over the city, with nothing but the moon to light the streets. We left the empty house, and headed back outside. Kyle said something about meeting up with the rest of our group at camp, and moments later, we were sneaking into the back of a huge, empty mall. We were greeted by a large man, dressed in a nice suit, who unlocked the padlock to let us in. In the next room was an elderly woman, a two twin boys around 13 years old, a blonde woman, who may have been their mother, and a middle-aged man, who was wearing nothing but dark green swim trunks. They all waved and clapped enthusiastically when we walked in.

The elderly woman was cooking a large turkey over a fire in the middle of the room, and the twins were throwing clothing, straight off of the store racks, onto the fire to keep it going. The middle-aged man was complaining that there wasn’t enough butter for everyone, and the large man offered to make a run to the store to get ingredients to make more, but the other man just kept yelling. The elderly woman threw a chunk of turkey at him, and he stomped away, and everyone laughed.

I offered to go and get butter ingredients with the large man, but Liam started crying, and told me not to go, so the twins offered to go instead. Liam brought me a soccer ball and asked if we could play, and I smiled and walked into the main lobby of the mall…

And then I woke up.