*sigh*

I must be a horrible parent, because I am so much happier when I can send my son to daycare for the day. A full day with him just wears me out and leaves me impatient, frustrated, and disappointed in myself. Yesterday was a particularly bad day. Brendan of course is pretty fussy now since his tooth is coming in. When he's awake he really doesn't want to play by himself, although he does better entertaining himself in the mornings than in the afternoons. He follows me around, whining and pulling on my pantlegs. He's figured out how to open the cupboards, so we've started working on the babyproofing. All I've done so far is lock up two of the side by side cabinets with a lock that connects both handles together. It's inconvenient, to say the least. I need to put in the single cabinet locks; at least they are easier to open for adults. Brendan has also started pulling himself up on the baker's rack in the kitchen. I've had to take everything off of it so he doesn't pull anything heavy off on himself. But now I'm worried he might pull the whole thing over on himself. And I've had to relocate some of my houseplants (all poisonous philodendrons) and I have more to move.


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Sorry, I was just interrupted by the diaper change from hell. Brendan has gotten himself in a bad habit of rolling over while I'm trying to change him, making it impossible to have a quick, fuss-free change. He had pooped, and naturally it was a mushy, stick-to-the-butt poop. I was trying to keep him from rolling over, so instead he jammed his hand down into the mess. His hand was covered in shit. He got it all over my hand, all over his legs...I'm in hell.

Back to the post in progress...

So, yesterday I had to change his clothes 4 different times (after the initial change from jammies to play clothes. He spit up part of his breakfast, he barfed up his lunch, he was wet after his nap, and then he spit up a lot of his bedtime bottle, all necessitating a clothing change. How can one little kid produce so much laundry? And so many nasty bodily fluids?

And he was up twice last night, once for a short cuddle of about 20 minutes, the other for a bottle and some fussy time of an hour. Then he got up at the same time as my husband, meaning I couldn't go back to sleep. He got into the trash while I got dressed, making a mess of the bathroom floor. I had to get him a bottle and then pop him in his stroller so I could walk the dog, because for some reason my husband did not walk the dog before he left for work.

I just feel frantic, rushed, and totally out of control and out of sorts. I get angry at him, which makes me angry at myself. I am a horrible parent. I suck at this, probably worse than I have ever sucked at anything. While I always thought I would have another child, I just don't think I should. I"m doing a lousy job with the one I've got.