Persephone: Parent

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Dinner Time

on March 18, 2015

I fucking hate dinner time.

She fights her afternoon naps. He wakes at 4pm.

Today I got thirty minutes playing with him upstairs before I had to pick her up due to screaming because she wants to sleep and needs rocking on the nursing chair.

That’s downstairs.

But downstairs means TV, namely Mickey Mouse.

So I try holding and rocking her. Meanwhile he closes the fucking door so ww’re all trapped in the bedroom. But he does (un)helpfully close the window.

She’s having none of it. He’s kicking off as he wants the door open. My arm is aching because I have serious upper body pain from holding her. All. The. Fucking. Time.

So I tell him I’m taking her downstairs (because asking him resulted in no). Well, now he does want to come. But he wants to be carried.

I put her down. She screams. I carry him down. My muscles want to scream. But he’s not screaming.

And he’s watching Mickey Mouse.

I bring her down. She falls asleep withn minutes of me rocking her.

Oh, crap. How do I cook dinner now?

So I text hubby, no dinner for anyone.

I start to consider putting her down so I can do his dinner but wonder how I can watch him eat whilst holding her when my upper body is screaming in agony.

Before I can make a decision she wakes and wants milk.

As I’m arranging 101 cushions to try and take all the weight, strain and pressure off my upper body, getting her latched on, he falls off the fucking sofa.

So I yank her off. Put her down safely and grab him up. He’s fine. Just shocked. She’s screaming.

I return to feeding her.

Now it’s half 5. She’s the only one who’s eaten. I didn’t manage lunch. And I want to physically pull my hair out.

2 responses to “Dinner Time

  1. It gets better momma. Is there any way for you to have some prepped snack-type meals for him and you? I used to freeze muffins and prep cheese and crackers and stuff the night before so I had something quick and easy to pull out to eat. Hang in there. ❤

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