Broken nose

03.14.2005 - 7:19 pm

Some days...some days it takes every millimeter of my body to not put my child to bed at 5pm when we get home from school. Today is such a day. We walked in, all she wanted was her binky and to be held. I'm not feeling well, so we put on Good Eats and learned about cake frosting (YUM!). Then I started dinner. I gave her three things and she insisted on putting her food on the windowsill to eat while I say right next to her. 30 seconds, happy and talking about her food. 30 seconds, screaming bloody murder. 40 seconds, giving me hugs. 20 seconds, throwing shit around. 10 seconds hugging mommie, and I bent down to kiss the top of her head, at the EXACT moment she threw her head up and hit my nose dead on. I immediately began crying, sharp, piercing pain. So she starts crying. So I hold her and explain it was an accident and mommie isn't mad, she's just in pain. So she calms down, gets out of my lap. Sees me still crying and bursts back into tears. We are now about 25 minutes into her dinner experience. I'm getting hungry, and the Sybil actions just got onto my very last thread of patience so I put her in her high chair. This did not go over well. Let her scream and cry and throw a fit. I made my dinner, stealing moments to look in the mirror to check if my nose is as swollen as it feels. My dinner is ready. That girl and I could be eating the exact same thing, exact same portion size, same plates and utensils and all she wants is to eat off my plate. So she licked my sandwich a few times. Eventually ate her scrambled eggs and a little bit of fruit. Now 90 minutes since the feeding began and she declares she is finished. Good. Just in time to put on jammies, watch some Street and GO TO BED! Well, someone didn't want to put on jammies, just run away and scream and hide. I left the room and ignored her, knowing she would follow behind in all of 1 minute. So she came chasing after me throwing another fit. I swept her up, put her on the table to change, she's pitching a fit, hits her head on the table, get her changed, get Elmo. We all go into the bathroom to get rid of the diaper and wash our hands. (If Nick and I let her, Munch would wash her hands for an hour) Then I have to pull her out of the sink and bring her downstairs for the Street. Get her milk and cookies. And here I sit. Anxiously awaiting for Sesame to end so she can go to sleep and I can crawl into my own bed and cry myself to sleep.

It's so hard being a mother.

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