This last week has been a nightmare for me. Charlie was on a trip in Vancouver for a few days, and anyone I know that I can leave the girls with was out of town.
I got little to no sleep, Eden has begun a habit of screaming her head off like a 5 alarm fire that can't be put out, and Madee is constantly asking me for a spanking. Begging for it.
So I have that going for me - I vehemently do not want to spank, and this child is so defiant that it is only a smack to the diaper that can even get her attention. And once you have her attention? She will kick your butt. I can't even believe it but she thinks she can take me and just goes for it - all teeth and claws and fists...
Unless I am out of reach. And then she headbutts the floor. Repeatedly. Like she knows hurting herself hurts me more.
It is emotionally traumatic, physically exhausting, and it is difficult to for me to wrap my head around. It is also very common tired toddler behavior, so I try not to blame myself, even though I have long had the habit of blaming myself for everything.
That is a much longer post. A much longer, anonymous post.
But this is a different post.
My time alone with them was all out war. There were battles I won, and battles I lost, and in the end every time I thought I would jump on my own sword, I would turn around and they would be asleep.
Regroup. Recover. Restrategize.
Go through the cycle again.
Charlie got home, we dropped off the dogs, packed the truck and headed to LA for his job.
Monday - I hate LA. No wonder it is burning, I am thinking, with all these snotty people in their fancy cars that they probably can't afford, passing me on the right. Your fancy car is going to be in the shop, buddy! Honking at me when I don't run the red light. Flipping me the bird fromt he street and mouthing "F____ You" to me for no apparent reason.
Can't you tell I'm not from around here?
People in LA are so angry and aggressive and most likely because they aren't eating enough - everybody is so skinny and what is this film that is totally collecting on my skin?
And 2 crying babies - well, one wailing like a wild animal and the other just screaming and thrashing - I am pretty sure they hate me - they definitely hate sitting in traffic in the humid smoggy 96 degree weather.
I had to pack up, load the car and check out by myself. Well not by myself, I had 2 kids.
Did I mention I hate LA?
So we are in the car and still a few hours before Dad will be done with work and ready for pick up.
A few hours. 96 degree weather. Smog. Fire. Ugh.
Traffic traffic traffic, crazy people passing me on the right, on the left - I had no idea that traffic like this could still move at 65 mph.
So I sat in a park parking lot and put on my makeup.
Mmmm. 76 degrees. Ocean Air. Mascara. Sleeping babies. I love Malibu. Pass an RV park. I need an RV so I can stay here for a while.
Tuesday. No sleep. Same story with a twist. Out to Thousand Oaks, pick up forgotten cord - 45 minutes.
Try to get back downtown to check out alone again with 2 kids?
3 HOURS~ (Did I mention passing me on the right?) Only now I am one of them. Get out of my lane - you are moving too slow in deadlock traffic. I will pass you on the right...
Back to the hotel (crying baby) pack the stuff (screaming toddler) call for the bellman (baby is just wailing now)
Packed up. In the car. Headed to Santa Monica. I am so proud of my new navigation skills. I own LA. I hate LA I hate LA - Why is that guy flipping me off?
Doesn't he know I O.W.N. LA!
I hate LA. Hot. Smoggy.
So many interstates. What's that? A case has fallen off a truck. Cars have run right over the case. Toilet paper everywhere... It still can't wipe away all this smog grime.
Santa Monica. I see the pier. Precious.
Pay for parking, get the girls in the stroller, head down the beach...scream scream wail! Sit in the shade.
Regroup, Refocus, Recover.
Smile for the camera.
Other mommies gather in the shade, 4 strollers, babies are crying, not my baby, other babies. Then mine lets it go.
All the other mommies shudder and whip around.
Yes lady, you thought you had it bad. MY BABY IS LOUDER THAN YOURS.
And still I don't win.
5 minutes after parking, packing it up and heading back...here is the only other picture I took of the pier. Thank god I love my truck. I spend a lot of time in there.
Baby crying baby crying, toddler hungry, we swing through the drive thru at El Pollo Loco. Hand toddler quesadilla. I'll show you Loco. Crawl in back seat. Nurse Baby. I'm the Loco-est Pollo on this block. Eat Quesadilla. Watch people at the laundromat in front of me. Wonder if I am even in a good neighborhood for this sort of thing. Maybe I am not the Loco-est Chicken on this particular block...
Change diaper. Struggle with toddler. Did I mention if given the chance she will headbutt the floor just to spite me? So I have that going for me. Baby crying. Toddler crying. DVD on. Truck in gear. Breathe. 1...2...3...4....5....6....7...8....9.....10! Spend the next 15 minutes trying to find the freeway.
Spend the rest of my life trying to find my mind.
Wipe smog. I need to brush my teeth. I hate LA I hate LA I hate LA