Yeah, so today was one of those days where everything was really going to shit. The endless conditions of why are irrelevant, because I know you all have been there. But when everything sucks you know what makes life even suckier? Your kid is being a fucktard that is what.
Started off with The Munch refusing to nap, but insisting on ferocious breastfeeding. I know, I know… it is kind of nuts this is still going on…. I never thought I would be having two-year old who was still on the teat. But I don’t know how to stop it. We seriously get into arguments about it. What do I do?? I tried to look up suggestions for weaning in the book I have called “A Breastfeeding Companion” and all they spew is crap about what a beautiful bonding experience it is. I don’t want to bond any more! I am sick as shit of bonding with my kid. I want my tits back!
I digress. Because of the intensity and irritation of Munch’s devouring, not to mention the pending horror that was to be my afternoon, I decided that if I took The Munch for a walk she could sleep in her carrier on my back. That way I could get my head together while I walked, get her off my boobs, and she could finally get to sleep. So I stuffed my thrashing kid into the carrier and started to walk.
“Mamma put me down!! I want to walk!! Wahhhhhaaaahhhhh!”
“No Munch, it is night night time. Just relax and take a nap. Mamma has a busy afternoon.”
“Noooooooooooo!!!! WAAAAHHHHHHHAAAAAH!”
After I had gone a mile with her flailing and yelling at me I decided to screw the nap and just let her walk home. At first this was okay, but then she didn’t want to walk any more and wanted me to carry her.
“No Munch I am not going to carry you. You can get on Mamma’s back in your carrier though.”
“NO MAMMA!!! CARRY ME!!!!!!! WAHHHHHHAAAAAAHHHHHH!”
We went back and forth like this for about 10 minutes. She didn’t want to walk, she didn’t want to be in her carrier, but she did want me to carry her in my arms. Do you see how unreasonable this is? So what did I do? I carried her in my arms so she would shut the eff up.
The whole way home-and every step I wanted to scream in frustration. Just as I got to my house and was ready to throw her, The Munch started hugging and kissing me while telling me she loved me. Of course she would pull a move like that.
I stupidly thought things might get better from here, but then realize that no, shit is going to get worse. To set the stage, my mom is kindly letting me use her house for the weekend, and the one thing said to me as she left was “don’t let the cats get out.” So what happened? THE FUCKING CATS GOT OUT.
Okay, this may not seem like a big deal, but do you want to know how many cats we have lost because they got murdered in the woods by the savage animals out there? Four. FOUR DEAD CATS. So pretty sure I had to figure out how to get the cats back or their death would be on my conscious. But here is the catch. I AM SCARED OF CATS!!! They are so unpredictable. I mean, I will pet them and stuff, but I don’t like picking them up. I don’t care what you say, cats are scary.
Can you guys what happened? I had to pick up the cats, and although I did get them back in the house, one of them scratched my chest in the process. I looked at my bleeding flesh wound and remembered how you can get crazy diseases from cat scratches because they have cat poop under their nails from the kitty litter. So I start frantically looking for stuff to clean my abrasions and of course I have nothing. I finally found some hydrogen peroxide from the 80s, but I didn’t have any cotton balls. You want to know what I did have? Tampons. So there I was, dabbing my tits with peroxide soaked tampons wondering what has really become of my life.
