I've found a rogue computer here in the computer lab where I help/babysit my one independent study class that will let me log on to blogger. Sweet.
Know what? My daughter is a big spoiled brat pain in my ass.
That's right. You heard me. She's a brat. She's spoiled. She's a pain. The pain resides in my ass.
She's not sleeping. She's throwing huge screaming bawling fits every time she doesn't get her way, which is often, as she constantly wants to do things like take the eggs out of the refrigerator and make "egg sauce" (wtf is egg sauce anyway?) in the middle of the living room floor. The last 2 mornings have been tortuous. Tortuous like, "I'm so glad you are going to preschool and that those sorry saps there can deal with you instead of me. I'll be at work all day. See ya!" rather than "Oh my sweet love. Mommy hates to go to work and leave you because I love you so...oh the guilt" tortuous.
Every time she yells at me, I'm giving her a 3 minute time-out in her room. This morning she had 3 time outs between 6:30 and 7:30. The last one was because I wouldn't stop blow drying my hair to tie her up on a chair with her rainbow jump rope while saying "heh, heh, heh."
Night before last she got up like 5 times, the last being at 2:00, and she refused to go to back to bed. I'm talking screaming, kicking, and generally going to bits. Finally at 4 she fell asleep on the couch, exhausted with herself.
Now lately, I am a total skeptic to all things spiritual/religious/whatever. (This IS related to the above. I promise.) But over the last few weeks, the energy (I know--mumbo jumbo) in my house has been bad. Ugly bad. Like I pick up Soph and we both don't really want to go home. It's not just the filth, though that's part of it. After a night of no sleep at all, I was feeling desperate. So yesterday I picked Soph up from school, and we went to The Wizz, the local store for everything from hemp soap to glow in the dark skulls to fairy tarot cards. I consulted with the owner, Sally, and ended up buying a sage smudge stick (bundle of sage tied together.) I went home, lit it up and got it smoking, and feeling very silly, went from room to room, spreading the "sacred smoke," blessing my house, asking that only the "good, pure, and peaceful" remain. Then I put the smudge out in a bowl of salt, and sprinkled the salt around my house, repeating the blessing. I also bought a little dream catcher and hung it above Sophie's bed.
Did it work? I don't know. She slept better, but that may be due to the adult dose of benedryl I gave her before bed. She was back to being her bratty self at 5:30 this morning.
Today's best thing about being a mom:
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Today's worst thing about being a mom: