So, we're home. Have been since Saturday night, and I am one sad sack of unmotivated... blech.
How pitiful was that?
We got home Saturday night and Bubba and Miss-Miss were all like, "Papa! Papa! Papa!" running up to Ty-man, grabbing him around the neck, holding him tight. I went over and said, "Hey sweethearts! Mama's soooooo glad to see you!"
They couldn't have cared. Less.
They turned away from me, said "NO!" and grabbed Ty-man even harder.
I could see their little minds whirring. "Oh, great, that bitch of a mom is home, too. We had hoped that Papa would have done her in and dumped her body at Disney, but no such luck!"
I'm chopped liver. No, actually, I'm not chopped liver. I'm the chopped liver that's already been digested and passed through the small and large intestines and is now residing in the colon. I'm chopped colon liver.
The next day it was all "Where Papa? Where Nana? Where Bam-ma?" and massive amounts of crying if Ty-man left the room. I mean, at least J-man smiled at me, but then again, he's seven months old and smiles at the phone.
I know, I know, I'm their primary care-giver. They see me everyday. But, I had hoped, just a little bit, that a week without Mama would have made them miss me. Just a little.
Not only that, but I'm unmotivated in the housework/laundry/wrapping gifts/putting up decorations departments. I'm seriously thinking of asking the president for FEMA funds and to have our living room declared a national disaster area. It's that bad. I vacuumed chunks - yes, chunks - of cookies, bagels, and God-knows-what-else out from under the sofa cushions during my five minutes of "I have to get something accomplished" today. And, frankly, that's as far as I got.
You know, I enjoy Halloween so much that I'm thinking of celebrating family and gift-exchanges then. Who's with me on that one?
Ah, screw it. I'm going to have another piece of Ghirardelli's Intense Dark Twilight Delight chocolate and watch "The Devil Wears Prada" for the millionth time while the kids sleep.
Who Am I?
- Coal Miner's Granddaughter
- I am the 40-ish granddaughter of Frank (see header), a fiddle-playing coal miner from West Virginia. I was born and raised in said state and have lived in Georgia since 1994. I have a wonderful husband, three beautiful kids, one cranky cat, and one anxiety-ridden dog.
Subscribe
Please Don't Steal
Confessions of a Coal Miner's Granddaughter by Coal Miner's Granddaughter is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 United States License.
Photographing
9 comments:
If it's any consolation, *I* miss you.
Be glad that they know you're not going anywhere. I always hated that my kids would cry for dad and didn't seem to notice me.
Then I got my youngest, and the first time I dropped her off and she CLUNG to me it about ripped my heart out.
(Fuck, I'm sorry, I hate "well be glad it's not THIS!" comments.)
Doesn't "colon liver" translate into "shit"?
Hmm. Gift exchange at Halloween... No crowds, no long lines, and you get to still go trick-or-treating? Sign me up!
For the record, every morning when I go to wake up Bubba & Miss Miss, they both ask "Where's Mama?". I tell them Mama's down stairs with Baby J-man, do you want to go down stair to see Mama? "YEEESSSS!" is the reply from both. Just Bubba's has the ever so cute southern drawl.
Love Ya!
Can you have FEMA come over here, too?
Doesn't that suck?! It's happened to me as well. With my kids, I found that they were just pissed at me for leaving and the little suckers knew just how to hit me where it hurt the most. Funny how they learn to manipulate as such an early age.
They know you love them and they feel secure enough to know that they can get away with it...that's good, right?
(PS-Damn Blogger won't even let me put in code for my link anymore...it adds a "www.blogger.com" to it, bastards. For those of you who would like to follow, my blog is: www.mommycosm.com)
I know it sucks to be taken for granted, but it's a comfort to know that small children will only take you for granted when they are happy and secure, and they KNOW you aren't going away. I'm glad your back!
Note to self: take pill.
Okay Darth Chocolate...keep eating your chocolate because it's going to be okay. I absolutely KNOW that Miss Miss and Bubba love you to pieces and missed you terribly, but ya know it's funny when Ian comes in the door in the evening, our baby girl lights up and pretty much that's it with Mama until the next morning when she doesn't see Daddy around because he has already headed to work. And hey she's only 9 months...I say the word Daddy to her even when he's out flying and she lights up...hmmm...maybe I should try that the next time she has a meltdown in the grocery store. -V
Post a Comment