Some Days I feel like a Big Fail…and Those Days Are Called Tuesday

It’s been a tough day.  As I write this I’m brooding a bit.  My husband, the manager has informed me that I seem like a big stressball when he comes home and he wants to help me find a solution.  He then proceeds to tell me that sometimes I “need to be managed”. 

Before you jump down his throat, I get his point.  Granted his timing is total suckage…and delivery for that matter, but I get his point.  None the less, it’s not helping the feeling that I’m failing at this.

I recognize it’s just been a rough day, but I could really use a break.  Em was upset when I left her this morning at daycare (she was clingy yesterday too) and then when I come to pick her up she cries…cries as if she’s afraid I’m going to leave her again.  I don’t get it—am I doing something to make her feel like I’m going to leave her??  On the card ride home she fusses the whole way.  I try to remind myself not to try to appease her, but let her work it out.  It’s another fault that’s been pointed out to me, that I am constantly “on” with her.  Great. 

We get home, the house reeks.  I let the dog out, put the baby down, try to get her some toys to engage her.  I hold my breath as I wait for her to protest but instead of insisting I hold her, she plays.  Score!

I let the dog in, and start cleaning the kitchen.  I decide that the smell is coming from the dishwasher that wasn’t run last night.  I fill the rest of the dishwasher and run it…again.  I start to hand wash the rest, but Em is fussing.  Recognizing I have to be gone for 2 weeks I put them down and go play with her.  It’s fun, but I’ll admit that there’s a lingering voice almost taunting me.  I’m reminded of when she was an infant, constantly afraid she would cry, as if that meant I was doing something wrong.  I find that familiar voice gnawing at me and I’m almost in a panic trying to keep her from fussing as is fussing will be the end of the world as we know it.  I recognize this terror only after I find myself feeling relief when I *think* I hear Matt coming home.  It’s not him though, and I realize how utterly ridiculous I’m being.  Why am I so tense?  (don’t answer that).

Emerson is hungry so I get her dinner ready.  It’s like a gauntlet lately.  The only thing I feel like she’s consistent in at mealtime is being inconsistent.  She is a carb aholic, sustaining on noodles, bread and peanut butter.  I worry about her lack of desire to even try anything anymore and that I’m setting her up for bad habits. 

Dinner was….well she ate about 5 noodles which is more than normal lately.  Dinner was of followed by a bath in which Emerson “yelled” at me, then some more screaming while I tried to put lotion on her and then while I was putting her jammies on her. 

Then Matt got home and suddenly she screamed bloody murder if I wasn’t holding her.  Like the kind of screaming that make me feel …utterly helpless. 

Eventually she calmed down and the 3 of us played before bedtime.  Of course, I recognize I’m over-thinking it and feeling very sensitive but man today is one of those days I wish I had a manual…or at least a glass of wine.