metaphortunate son (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
metaphortunate) wrote2013-07-29 09:14 pm
metaphortunate) wrote2013-07-29 09:14 pm
Entry tags:
whiiiiiiine
I snapped at my mother on the phone this evening and I feel pretty terrible about it, since all she had done was ask me if I was happy.
Why is that so fucking irritating, why, why, WHY? Every week when we talk on the phone she asks me if I'm happy. I don't think I'm unhappy, but I truly hate that question and I don't know why. Today, in particular, I have felt unbelievably shitty since lunch; stomach pain, and contractions, and the Junebug had a meltdown on the train home, out of hunger I think, and scratched my face and just had nothing but massive tantrum until we got some food in him. So Mom called during dinner to discuss some logistical stuff, and when we were done with that, she asked me if I was happy, and I said, "….sure." And she said that didn't sound very convincing, and I said I'm really not in the mood to deal with a fucking interrogation and handed the phone over to let her talk to the Junebug. And when I took the phone back I apologized, but you know. It doesn't really help.
I mean, I expect it's the sort of thing I'll want to know about the Junebug someday! Right? It's not unreasonable to want to know if your kid is happy? Aargh.
And the worst part is this was the same conversation I'm asking her to come for two weeks when Hypo is born. So here, let me snap at you and ask you for a favor. Except that it's really not clear how much her coming is her doing us a favor and how much is us letting her help. So does it make up for it if I snap at you and then try to make it up by making an effort to include you? But if she could be here to stay with the Junebug while Mr. E and I are in the hospital, my god, that would be great, because otherwise we're not 100% sure who is going to watch him. We've asked a few people, but of course we don't know when it's going to be, or for how long, and that's a really big favor to ask, and a big worry, and what if I have to go back in the hospital like last time….ARGH. So yes. It will be best for the Junebug if my mom could stay with him. But it will be awful for me & Mr. E. On the other hand what's good for the Junebug is good for us. Not having to worry so much about the Junebug or about putting huge impositions on our friends is good for us. So I can just suck it up and deal with my mother. Right? Somehow, I will cope? For two weeks?
I know that I am so very lucky. I have family that wants to help. The Junebug is wonderful and more amazing every day. Hypo continues reassuringly energetic. My health is, in general, good. My job is going well. I have a lovely generous maternity leave coming up and we can afford a good daycare after that, that keeps the Junebug happy.
Okay, actually I do feel better thinking about all that. Mr. E is in the kitchen doing dishes so that I can sit quietly with my feet up and sip water and hope that it makes things calm down and feel better like it's supposed to. There's nothing that needs doing that can't wait until tomorrow. Things could be worse.
Why is that so fucking irritating, why, why, WHY? Every week when we talk on the phone she asks me if I'm happy. I don't think I'm unhappy, but I truly hate that question and I don't know why. Today, in particular, I have felt unbelievably shitty since lunch; stomach pain, and contractions, and the Junebug had a meltdown on the train home, out of hunger I think, and scratched my face and just had nothing but massive tantrum until we got some food in him. So Mom called during dinner to discuss some logistical stuff, and when we were done with that, she asked me if I was happy, and I said, "….sure." And she said that didn't sound very convincing, and I said I'm really not in the mood to deal with a fucking interrogation and handed the phone over to let her talk to the Junebug. And when I took the phone back I apologized, but you know. It doesn't really help.
I mean, I expect it's the sort of thing I'll want to know about the Junebug someday! Right? It's not unreasonable to want to know if your kid is happy? Aargh.
And the worst part is this was the same conversation I'm asking her to come for two weeks when Hypo is born. So here, let me snap at you and ask you for a favor. Except that it's really not clear how much her coming is her doing us a favor and how much is us letting her help. So does it make up for it if I snap at you and then try to make it up by making an effort to include you? But if she could be here to stay with the Junebug while Mr. E and I are in the hospital, my god, that would be great, because otherwise we're not 100% sure who is going to watch him. We've asked a few people, but of course we don't know when it's going to be, or for how long, and that's a really big favor to ask, and a big worry, and what if I have to go back in the hospital like last time….ARGH. So yes. It will be best for the Junebug if my mom could stay with him. But it will be awful for me & Mr. E. On the other hand what's good for the Junebug is good for us. Not having to worry so much about the Junebug or about putting huge impositions on our friends is good for us. So I can just suck it up and deal with my mother. Right? Somehow, I will cope? For two weeks?
I know that I am so very lucky. I have family that wants to help. The Junebug is wonderful and more amazing every day. Hypo continues reassuringly energetic. My health is, in general, good. My job is going well. I have a lovely generous maternity leave coming up and we can afford a good daycare after that, that keeps the Junebug happy.
Okay, actually I do feel better thinking about all that. Mr. E is in the kitchen doing dishes so that I can sit quietly with my feet up and sip water and hope that it makes things calm down and feel better like it's supposed to. There's nothing that needs doing that can't wait until tomorrow. Things could be worse.
no subject
I apply the "further develop a relationship with another adult who can be a resource" thinking to my MIL, especially when she asks whether I'm happy or offers excitedly to do something with my daughter which we've told her gently several times wouldn't work (at this time, at all, whatever).