Tag Archives: please save me from my life

There is no good cake here.

I was going to write today about how one of my biggest irrational fears is that doctors will think that I’m a pain pill seeker, so I tend to refuse pain medication, as if that will make doctors take my pain more seriously. As if NOT TAKING PAIN MEDICATION will make medical professionals believe my pain is SERIOUS. I also refuse to finish bottles of pain medication I am prescribed (thank goodness some doctors just prescribe the medication without asking me, as was the case with the recent double ear infection, because I fret myself into a frenzy trying to come up with a NON-SUSPICIOUS WAY to ask for relief from what must be OBVIOUS terrible pain once a doctor has glanced into my head a declared the whole thing a wasteland of infection), because there is a prize for leaving some of the medication in the bottle. Not that doctors can see my bedside table and see the half-finished bottles of medication rolling around there, but they must ESP into my head and think,

“Ah, here is a lady who does not finish her pain medication prescriptions. No, she takes the useless Tylenol and soldiers on. She is not just here for my prescription pad, obviously. This is a woman who I can take seriously when she says she is in pain. She is not peeing on my leg and telling me it is rainy outside. This is Arizona. That would be ridiculous.”

Anyway, no. That’s a thing that’s wrong with me and it’s ridiculous but we can explore that another day. Instead, I’m just going to copy this email I sent to a bunch of people. I was just going to keep it to email because it talks about poo and I don’t WANT to be that mommy blogger who talks about POO, but Phil came home for lunch and I told him I’d sent out a distress call to my lady friends in the Internet box and he agreed that we are in need of HELP and that is what the Internet is for, and —

Look, you already spotted the word “help” and half the Internet is sporting LEGITIMATE REQUEST FOR ADVICE boners right now, so let’s just get to it.

*****

I have a terrible migraine today. And it’s something I hate about myself, but when I get these headaches, I just get SO MEAN. I mean, I just say fuck a lot and yell at the baby and I’m so angry, etc. And I’m trying to be patient and just get through, whatever.

So Pen needed her diaper changed. I took her in her room, changed a disgusting stinky poo diaper and tended to a teething rash. I decided to lay in her bed for just a couple of minutes while she played in her room. Benefits of a floor bed, right?

I laid there, drifting in and out, while she came over ever few minutes to pull my hair, because she’s an asshole and doesn’t want me to ever be happy, when one time she comes over and just reeks of poop again. She’s been having lots of dirty diapers due to the nasty virus ripping around our house, so I gathered myself to change yet another gross diaper when all of a sudden A SHIT CAKE LANDED ON MY FACE.

She was not dirty again. She had found, opened, and UPENDED the previous diaper ONTO MY FACE.

SHIT CAKE TO THE FACE.

I did not say a word, guys.

Gathered up the shit cake, wipes, and diaper, checked her for poop marks, left the room, tossed it all, washed myself and now here I am. She’s still in her room. After the shit cake, the food and cup throwing, and the angry pinching, I have no plans to collect her until lunch time.

I CANNOT EVEN WITH THIS BABY RIGHT NOW I CANNOT EVEN. She is a DEMON and she thinks that all our attempts at behavior correction are FUNNY. She doesn’t understand a stinking word of English, I swear. She throws her food on the floor at every meal. So what? Give her more? Or she’s just done til the next meal? I don’t know if she even understands that if she throws it, she won’t have any more to eat. She’s already skinny, I don’t want to starve her just because she’s a butthole.

And she BIT PHIL the other night, which is becoming more and more common. She comes up, hugs our legs, and BITES THEM. And she pulls hair. I’ve tried the exaggerated ouch and crying. That’s apparently hilarious. I’ve tried a firm no and that hurts. Funny! I’ve tried walking away, she doesn’t care. She throws books at my face! She rips my glasses off my head! She slaps, she grabs at our flesh angrily when she doesn’t get her way. She throws tantrums when she can’t have something that isn’t hers.

I guess I GET that this is all “normal” toddler behavior, but I’ve never had a toddler, so I have NO IDEA WHAT TO DO. I don’t know how to get her to eat her food, or how to just make sure she eats enough of her food, or how to make her stop throwing it on the floor because I am not made out of dollars or patience. And I DON’T like getting hit in the face with her books and I don’t really just want to wait that phase out because it hurts.

Is it insane to expect some kind of decent behavior, or at least to be able to TEACH some kind of decent behavior to a 15 month old? Am I ridiculous to expect to not be injured in my own home?

TO NOT GET POO TO THE FACE?

*****

Yes. That’s right. The rarest of animals on the Internet, a LEGITIMATE REQUEST FOR ADVICE. I want to know what you’ve done with your toddlers. I want to hear that you and they lived to see two years old. I want to know if you sent them off to live with their grandparents until they were five because THAT SOUNDS FINE TO ME. While I intend to keep all of my FEELINGS and WEEPINGS OF FAILURE to my private email chain of distress and woe, I open myself to the Internet at large to throw your parenting advice at me at will without fear of “I ALREADY TRIED THAT I AM NOT AN IDIOT” or anything like that, for I am an idiot and I need your help.

*****

Penny does a pretty sweet ass Peppa Pig impression.