Nothing to report except my bad temper

There are things I don’t really know how to deal with at the moment. No idea. At all. They pop up and my brain melts and my limbic system screams ‘HULK SMASH!’ and I have to drag myself bodily to the toilets for cold water and a talking-down:

  • Those (mercifully few, for me, but dear God they’re persistent) people who trump every word out of my mouth with a yes, well, you should try that with kids! It doesn’t matter if I’ve mentioned getting up early to watch the Rugby World Cup or how ill my periods make me. You should try that with a kid! You have no idea until you’ve had a kid! It’s so much harder when you have a kid! All I can say is, ‘harder’ is not the same as ‘worse’.
  • More seriously, my mother called this week, practically begging me to go down to see her after her surgery. Satsuma, efficient and productive as she now is, nevertheless has a warped sense of humour, and I will be menstruating at that point. I will be as much use to her as a soap herring in a thunderstorm. Gah. What I would also like to know is, where in Buttfuck Ohio are my two adult sisters, also my mother’s adult husband? I’d get it if she wanted to see me out of sheer love, but actually she’s scared of being on her own in the house with nobody to look after her – I know this because she told me so. Again, where in Buttfuck are my sisters and step-Dad in all this? They all live with her. I live over an hours’ journey away, I can’t drive, and I will be puketastically uselessly in need of a nurse myself, but I’m the one who has to drop everything and run. But them? They are having ‘previous commitments’, apparently. And are ‘not very good at this sort of thing’. Ohh, fuck them all. Useless twunts.
  • The Two Week Wait generally. Same-old same-old symptoms (heart-burn, sore breasts, tiredness, hypersensitive sense of smell). Waiting. Uncertainty. Not much in the way of hope. Tense anticipation of being ill and in pain in a few days’ time. Oh, golly, this is making me grumpy. Grumpier, anyway. Tetchy, even.
  • I have not touched coffee (or liver, or rare meat, or unpasturised cheese, etc. etc.) for over a week. I basically spend a week in a rage because 98% of me is 98% sure there’s absolutely no point in doing this whatsoever. I had a (large) piece of black chocolate on the way home yesterday evening. I was completely hyper for about three hours afterwards and talked nonstop throughout. This is what the lack of caffeine does to me.

30 responses to “Nothing to report except my bad temper

  • Lulu

    I hate the 2ww. So many sacrifices made for so many non-existent pregnancies. It’s unnecessarily cruel.

  • twangy

    Oh, ARRGgg, on the learned helplessness, on your behalf. I can’t stand it when people are ineffectual, like that, or just aren’t “good at that sort of thing”. WHAT A COP-OUT. I mean, really, surely it’s just a matter of wanting to? Am I missing something here, I wonder?

    Also mentally going supernova on the harder-with-a-kid people. Grrr. I got an email from a company this week that chirped at me: So now your kids are back at school, it’s time for.. blah blah.

    (Did I shout? Sorry.)

    • May

      Shout away, dear heart. ‘So now your kids are back at school’ indeed. I’d’ve UNSUBSCRIBED with extreme prejudice.

      The thing is, all anyone has to do, once Mum is out of hospital, remembering my own recovery from similar surgery, is make her tea regularly, bring her food on a tray if sitting up at table is still really painful, make sure she has her mobile and you have yours, and pop your head round the door every hour or so to check she’s OK. They’re not going to let her out of hospital unless she can go for a wee by herself, so it’s not as if anyone has to do bottom wiping or anything. If they’re going to be there all weekend anyway, this surely is EASY PEASY. Agh. Agh agh agh agh. I am hopping mad. *hops*

    • Anonymous

      ‘Learned helplessness’ is fabulous terminology. Now I think about it, I subliminally notice So. Many. Examples. of that particular trait.

      • Hairy Farmer Family

        I am not Anonymous, you idiot fucking software.

      • korechronicles

        Has anyone ever said you sound just like HFF?

        I’ve used the phrase ‘tyranny of the helpless’ for years now. My MIL was triple black belt master in it. I have often presented the argument that they are the powerful ones since they use it to get others to do their bidding. In the nicest, most pathetic, and therefore most incredibly difficult to resist, manner.

        • korechronicles

          That first line was meant for Anonymous. WordPress ruined my lame attempt at humour by making me think that Reply button under Anony’s response would place my comment there, not at the end of the thread. *Skulks off to make tea*

  • korechronicles

    Twunt is probably not a strong enough word for practitioners of this sort of behaviour. I’ve been through a variant of this with a very ugly outcome of which I am still mightily ashamed and cannot talk about. It’s hard when you are the only one in the family that missed out on the Self Absorbed Gene and copped a double helping of the Caring mutation. Life Partner caused me massive angst every time I dropped and ran by accusing them of Taking Advantage. Took me years and ugly outcome, as mentioned, to make me see it. I think you are well ahead of me in this department.

    And I don’t get the “it’s harder with kids” meme at all. Why bother with them then if all you’re going to do is whinge about how they stop you doing what you want? And often within earshot of said kids. If you need help with a bit of extra HULK SMASH I am more than happy to come over there and supplement yours, because by golly, I can feel mine rising rapidly when I think about them saying it to you.

    • May

      To be brutally fair (I hate being fair all the time. Spoils a good whine) most of the people who pull the ‘it’s harder with kids!’ thing on me only know I am childless, and DON’T know about the years of trying and miscarrying and woebollocky dreariness. They’re still gits to say it, but I can shrug it off. When it’s said to me by people who KNOW I’ve lost babies, A Red Mist Descends. Please send bail money.

      Many hugs for everything else you said. I breathe. I shall phone my mother again. I shall ask to speak to step-Dad. I shall jovially offer to come down and be sick in HIS bathroom, if he likes, but wouldn’t it be nicer if he made tea for my Mum and popped his head into the bedroom to check she’s still there every now and then? I daren’t speak to my sisters in case I say something Untakebackable.

  • bionicbrooklynite

    harder ≠ worse is a terrific answer. (and in case you had any doubt, it’s also true. many things about my life these days *are* harder, but my life is also much better than it was, all the same.)

    maybe the problem your mother is having with regards to her husband and other daughters is that they are not, in fact, so very adult at all.

    fwiw, i ate rare meat for my whole pregnancy and no one suggested i do otherwise, so i’d say you are off the hook on that tww sacrifice, if you’d like to be. xo

    • Hairy Farmer Family

      Deeply terrific answer. I said it over to myself twice in dawning realisation of its cleverness and absolute RIGHTness.

    • manapan

      Absolutely agreed. Just one example? Yes, it’s a lot harder to work my night shifts when I’ve got a nap-hating son to take care of during the day. But it is positively 100% easier to get through each of those days now that I’m hugging on a cute baby rather than being constantly obsessed with my faulty reproductive system.

      I also ate rare meat all through my pregnancy. Mostly because I really suck at knowing when meat is done and I can’t seem to figure out meat thermometer dynamics. I always push it into the wrong place and end up with imperfectly cooked food. But it didn’t seem to do any damage.

  • Womb For Improvement

    I feel particularly viscous when my two week wait falls over a holiday or celebratory event and I spurn the fun stuff, in retrospect for fuck-all reason.

    And as for the “so much harder” campaign even if they don’t know why you don’t have children you still have to wonder at their oblivious lack of empathy.

    • May

      I am coming alas to the conclusion that empathy is more precious than rubies: and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto it.

  • MFA Mama

    Because I’m friends with you (and others in similar situations), I have ELIMINATED such remarks as “try that with three children along” from my vocabulary, unless I’m talking to a sullen teenager or my ex-husband (not much difference there, eh?). Because One Never Knows and I’d rather modify my way of speaking than chance putting a knife in someone’s heart.

    Furious on your behalf with all of the learned helplessness.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Where in Buttfuck indeed! The buggery HELL?! That… well, that is most peculiar and un-childly/husbandly indeed. I must divide my sympathies equally between you & you mother on this one, whilst expending none whatsoever on any of the rest of ’em, and their ‘previous commitments’. Gah, and Double Gah.

  • a

    When you know you’re going to explode if you speak to someone, resort to texts and email. You could make up a schedule for tea-making and head-around-door-popping, and tell them what time they’ll be taking. Sigh – but having heard about your sisters, I suspect they wouldn’t comply.

    I agree with korechronicles – if you feel you must complain about them, why did you have kids? I like to complain about the assholes I work with, but I’m kinda stuck with them. Sometimes I complain about my husband, but I can’t control him and he has only become really annoying over time. 🙂 But my daughter – she’s a source of great hilarity and is far less trouble than anyone else I know (at least, so far). Ugh.

    • May

      I daren’t email my sisters. Then they’d have MY email address, and I’d go mad.

      Heh. Quite. Co-workers exist to be complained about.

      • a

        What? You don’t have acces to the miracles of free yahoo and gmail accounts there? I have an account for my blog stuff, an account for my family and friends and the majority of my other correspondence, and an account for the junk mail. That doesn’t even count my work email address. Of course, no one ever emails me, so that helps me keep all that straight. 🙂

  • Quiet Dreams

    Seeing red on your behalf, both for the stupid “try that with kids!!!” contingent, and for the useless familial contingent. Perhaps if you don’t go they’ll step up? (ignore me if this was a stupid question)

  • minichessemouse

    Gah WordPress reader decided not to tell me about this post!

    Yes, where the sodding arsebiscuits ARE your stepfather and sisters, you also have prior commitments of being mightily sore and of pretending to be a fried egg.

    And if you would like some help in the hulk smashing of those who cheerily say “try it with kids” then I’m your mouse!

    Many many hugs.

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