The Scenario In Which I Am The Toilet

Farrah napped for 20 minutes today.

35 yesterday

40 the day before

Et cetera.

I cannot do this anymore.

After meeting her basic needs all night and all day less 20 minutes, there’s not exactly a plethora of loving kindness at the well; vapor is what I have to offer my four-year-old.  We walked home from school today despite freezing temps just so I could give him something of myself.  I miss him, I want to be with him.  With Farrah supine in her stroller, our walk is our only opportunity, all snotty noses and winnowing wind chill.  Kris, able to feed, nurture and entertain himself, gets nothing from me.  And then there’s me.

Kris comes home and as I dash away he asks “Where will you be?” and I reply “Anywhere the kids are not.”  And in that moment I become a monster.  The first words he hears from me all day and I hear them too but I mean them.  Mother as Monster.  I hear them and they burn as I say them but I mean them and I see the look on his face and I am a monster but he has no idea. No idea what it took from me to still be here today.  Yesterday.  The day before.

I think about my labor and Farrah’s birth and how when things were at the apex I dreamt of ripping the lid off the toilet tank and bashing myself over the head with it – removing myself from the equation.  Someone will have to do something because I.am.fucking.done.  Think I’m joking?  BONK.  Ridiculous but reasonable given the intensity of birth, and at the end of it all, I bore my child and survived just fine.  Thrived even.  I harken back to that moment every day though and wonder, imagine, dream about removing myself from this new equation. Someone will have to do something because I.am.done.

BONK.

 

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2 thoughts on “The Scenario In Which I Am The Toilet

  1. It will pass, things will change. But. In the meantime, is there anyone you and Farrah can spend some time with during the day? Someone else with a kid might in time absorb her attention – and might wear her out a little so she’ll nap more. Meet up a few times, even if it isn’t wonderful the first time. Prefeably in neutral territory (gymboree? Park? Cafe with space for mobile kids? Kid-friendly museum?). Or maybe you can hire a young person (high school student with a morning without classes? College student?) to spend time with you – just to be another pair of hands and some non-baby company. It is NOT failure to allow yourself to receive support, I swear. And she will certainly benefit fom it too – new interest for her, plus happier (=better!) mother. Or at least, go out and do other things with her. Ignore how much she likes it for now. Museums, shopping, indoor playground, the zoo. Bung her in her buggy and go. You will still be right there with her, and she will learn to cope. Hell, maybe she’ll even take to napping in her buggy. You are in control. You can make a change to help yourself. But it sure is hard. Much sympathy to you and good luck.

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