Ducky Diaries: La La La, I can't hear you......

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

La La La, I can't hear you......

Today has been one of those days.  Like a 'write this shit down lest you ever think of having sex again', type of days...... 

I'm not going to lie, at this moment I am downing wine like there's nothing to do tomorrow.

I'm shaking and poised to bolt at the slightest noise that resembles a cry or "momma".

We hit the ground running at 5 a.m. today at Zo's demand for Mickey and we haven't stopped since.

Bear's bus got stuck this morning and was almost an hour late, so that only gave us ample time for a sibling rivalry to erupt. Which was great fun for everyone involved.  Thankfully reprieve finally came when he left and Zo passed out at 9:45 a.m. for a few hours. 

By noon she was up and running full speed.  And the "Why's" have started. I had a full on conversation about the bathroom door stopper during my shit break today. That was fun.

Zo : *pulling on door stopper and screaming*
Me : Zo that isn't going to come off honey.
Zo : Why?
Me : Because it doesn't. It has to stay on.
Zo : Why?
Me : It keeps the door from scratching the wall.
Zo : Why?
Me : I don't know kiddo... Can't you go play? Mommy's trying to poop!
Zo : No no momma.


Then Bear got home around 4 and things went smoothly for about 5 minutes before they were fighting some more.

Over a flipping piece of CHALK!!!  A piece of chalk the size of a pencil eraser. 

And in my mind all I could think was " SANTA CAN SHOVE THAT EFFING EASEL UP HIS ASS!!!!" ....  Not my proudest moment but whatevs.

I'll spare you dinner that Bear refused to eat and bath time where the kids decided to have a let's pour buckets of water on the floor at the same time and eat soap party.

That brings us to bed time. Joyous bed time where the ritual alone will kill you.

Bear is my good child when it comes to bed time. A bath, story, snuggle, a little soft music and he is done. Out like a like for 11 hours.  My preshuz angel.

Zo is on par with wrestling a wild Octopus mixed a ravenous hyena.  The writhing and screaming would be enough to make anyone nuts, but she likes to take it a special step further and really drive me over the edge. 

My sweet daughter has done this 'thing' since she was a breastfed newborn where she has to have her hand on my literal breasts to sleep.  Since she weaned at 17 months it's only gotten worse. She straight up claws at me digging her hand down the neck of my shirt and under my bra until she is happy.

But she's 20 months now and this 'thing' has basically turned into a fist fight with a wolverine.....  I have literal scars ya'll. On my teets from battling her hands off my boobie knockers. 

I was tempted to bite her chubby little hand off tonight.  She's lucky she fell asleep before my last rachet nerve fried.

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