::"back to school" song from Billy Madison playing in my head::
So, Monday I went back to work, and the Bear went back to daycare. I'm happy all day. She's happy all day. We come home together at night, prepared for a joyous reunion after being apart for 8 hours, and guess what happens?
We're not happy.
I, for one, am pregnant. And grouchy. I would like to be loved and petted and told that I'm special. And pretty. Not gonna happen.
The Bear, for her part, has only taken one nap, not her accustomed two, because all the big babies in the toddler room only take one nap; and so, not to be outdone, she skips her second nap. So, by dinnertime, she's completely exhausted. This makes her grouchy. So, while Husband cooks dinner, I get down on the carpet and attempt to interact with my child. Because that's what you do. And what does she do? She crawls over to Husband and tries to climb him. I call to her. I get books. I get toys. I make animal sounds. Only with a snack can I entice her over to me.
So, in two days my child has learned to hate and loathe me as the horrible woman who abandons her all the livelong effing day. Husband, on the other hand, who takes her to daycare and picks her up, is some sort of National Hero.
I know it's probably just the hormones and the bone-crushing fatigue, but I spent most of the evening considering how much it would cost me to get out of my contract right now, since I should obviously be at home with my child. Of course, I can just wait til I tell them I'm pregnant and see if they'll fire me. The new Cub chose yesterday, the first day of the new school year, when nobody knows I'm pregnant, to start showing. I'm making due with the rubber band trick for now, but pretty soon I'm going to have to break out the fat pants. I'm waiting until I hit 12 weeks (this Sunday) to tell my boss. Hopefully all will go well with that...
If I can't even get one child to like me, what business do I have having another one? Oh, good. More people to hate me. Perhaps they'll start a club. I can make them matching t-shirts. Where can I find a onesie that says "MY MOTHER IS A SELF-ABSORBED BITCH"?
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2 comments:
Maybe the Bear and the new Cub can make their own "I Hate My Mom" gear. They'll go into business (I'm sure the Hobbit will buy some), make millions of dollars, and cover their disillusionment with fancy bling. Hey, it's worked before!
I envision a hot-pink tank top that says "Here's to the woman who gave me (a shitty) life."
I wanted the Bear to have a sibling so that she'd always have a playmate. Now I'm thinking the new Cub will be more like a material witness at my maternal neglect trial. (Actually, today was less bad. Maybe she's just readjusting to our school-year schedule. ::crosses fingers::)
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