||[Nov. 19th, 2004|06:06 pm]
|[||My kid dictates my mood and right now it's...
I fucking just lost it today. The squid was screamning and whining for about an hour straight, he stopped when I finally just put my hand over his mouth and yelled at him to shut the fuck up. I don't know how long I can take this for. EJ's crying in the car and he just won't shut his mouth. I do at least six loads of laundry a day, load and unload the fucking dishwasher, make the bed, clean the bathroom, chase after a three year old kid, feed and take care of a five day old, and cook and clean up dinner. Then I have to listen to Brandon fucking bitch about how fucking tired he is. My whole fucking body aches, but he doesn't even have the brains to take the fucking trash out for me. I have the headache from hell, I keep having to take Elisabeth into the doctors to check her billirubin levels, run to the post office, do the grocery shopping, handle all the Christmas cards, presents and birth announcements, and generally run all the errands. Nap while the baby naps? WTF?? How the hell can I do that when all I do is work? I'm so fucking tempted to just say fuck it all and go back to work full-time just so I don't have to deal with the kids or Brandon's high and fucking mighty "I've been working all day" attitude. I do just as much as he does. Not to mention that I keep having to FORCE food down my throat, I have NO fucking energy, and my boobs are bigger than my fucking head and hurt like fucking hell. And then he keeps making little comments about wanting sex. WHAT PART OF SIX WEEKS DO YOU NOT FUCKING UNDERSTAND YOU GODDAMN DOUCHEBAG????
Right now Topher's zoned out on the couch watching TV (yeah... mother of the year award over here....) and Bette is still sitting in her carseat. I can't function anymore. I don't think it's PPD, but I can see it developing into it... Sorry for the long rambly rant... I just had to get it all out and couldn't do so in my own journal.
Love to you all, hope you're doing better than I.