I love, adore and inhale the scent of my beautiful daughter everyday. Her beauty and intelligence is outstanding. Her zest for life is intoxicating. Her sweetness brings me to tears. My heart bleeds fear just thinking about ever losing her. I am in tears just thinking about that right now. She is my favorite person in the world.
My daughter is exceptional. Her heart is big and full of love. Her smile is contagious. Her laughter is infectious. Everyone who meets her loves her. I'm not over bragging either. It is the God's honest truth. To know her is to love her.
She has her sides that make me wanna gauge out my eyeballs with a hot toothpick. But I don't feel like talking about them right now.
Except for her sensitivity. And this is where I feel like a shithole mother
I like that she is sensitive and not a cold hearted bitch. I like that she cares enough to have a delicate heart. But on the flip side. I want her to not care so much of what others think of her. She is hurt daily by friends and classmates. Over things that are really not a big deal. But to her, they are.
So. Sometimes I tell her that she needs to grow a tougher skin. To not care about those other fifth grade snots that tell her she looks like Willy Wonka when she cuts her beautiful hair chin length. To tell the winches to shut their pie holes. I try to encourage, yet there are times that I sorta look like I don't care about her problems. Because if I make a big deal out of it, she will too. I talk to her about it....I just don't dwell on it.
And then if that isn't concerning enough, there is last night. I went out. It was bunko night where me and a few girls play a fun game of dice and then get snookered. I had that and another b'day party to attend. Let's just say that after my third sex on the beach with cream, I was feeling numb.
And then my phone starts vibrating like a pimped out dildo. My daughter is with my sister, spending time with them so she could attend my nieces b'day party. My sister is harsher then us with her kids and sometimes this sends Sheylee into a crying rampage. She isn't mean, just has a different way of parenting. To each thy own, right? They were fighting. I was drunk. My sister was mad at Sheylee and Sheylee was hurt and I was in the toilet throwing up after 14 sex on the beaches with cream.
*note-The glasses were small even for a ompaa-loompa.*
And so I am in the bathroom, puking out the contents from my stomach, which was so bad that I'm pretty sure the last Thanksgiving dinner came out of my nostrils. And I tell my kid to toughen up (my sister had a valid reason to be upset but she doesn't need to yell either.) and to go to bed. I call my parents, whom only live 5 minutes away, and make arrangements for them to go get my daughter in the morning. My daughter, whining like a stuck pig, is still on a rampage. I'm now throwing up last Easter dinner and it isn't looking any prettier.
I'm don't ever seem to get a break. Getting a cell phone for her was the worst thing to do. I'm feeling mighty fine (besides the turkey leg getting lodged in my throat from Christmas time), having a good time, or was at least, and wanted to continue to have fun. Fuck. I deserve it people.
So. I told my daughter: "Mom is drunk. Mom is having fun with her friends. Mom needs alone time too. Mom needs to enjoy a night without drama. Now go to bed or you are grounded until my first grandchild is produced. And since you are my only child and will be grounded, that means forever. Good night. I love you. Toughen up."
And I didn't get another text. And today, with my hangover polluting my thinking and my toilet being flushed every 2 minutes, I feel like a shit hole mom, yet again.
Mama was drunk. Mama put drinking before her spawn. Mama is a fuck face.
*note* My husband was equally drunk and texting back and forth to her too. As always, he had more patience. After my text. She didn't text him either. And she isn't texting me back today or answering her phone. I'm a bad.bad.mom.
Boo to me. I already know.
I gotta go throw up now.