|Except that we were all male.|
Of course I would have preferred it this way and any of the
women would be fine. But I like the colour of the beer in
the middle the most, so let's say I identify with the one in
red, because why not?
Also, it reminded me just how sad the whole thing is making me. Bear in mind it was on this trip that I had bought the sex toy earlier, it was in the car whilst we went beering and then had our discussion. So, there's that background to consider.
|Except she's six.|
Then I went back to work. Then I went back to where we used to live for a night. Our Girlie does not deal well with transitions.
From here on in, we're TMI. So, a line break.
Having bought Tilly an unwanted sex toy (but I'm not to return it - she's not going to use it, but returning it is embarrassing for... reasons?) and returned home, all Hell broke loose. A cold meant that both children were out of sorts and needed support. The first night I slept in with the Boy and blew his nose a lot (he was too asleep to manage it, but awake enough to need it) and the Girlie slept in with Mummy. Neither parent got much sleep but the children got what they needed and were markedly better in the morning. By the following night, though, we clearly had the second wind of the cold. Boy had mastered his nose but I remained on standby whilst Girlie deliberately stayed up waiting for Tilly to go to bed. Sure enough, she attempted a number of times to tempt Tilly to bed with everything from being hot and shivery to being scared of the dark. Around 9pm, two hours after normal bedtime, Tilly relented and let Girlie into her bed. We went up, eventually, around 10.30pm when Girlie started ranting about the dark, snotty noses and wanting to read. Tilly quieted the Girlie and I went to the sofa bed.
Between 11pm and midnight Girlie began prodding and hitting Tilly to keep her awake. Eventually, just after midnight, Tilly called me in as back-up. I ended up carrying a hysterical and screaming child to Girlie's bedroom. Now the fun began. From that point on the Girlie went mental. Hissing, biting, screaming, kicking walls, crying at the top of her lungs, screaming about us hurting her, yelling "No no no!" and coughing because she wasn't breathing properly in her seething and titanic rage. Tilly threatened to spank her twice and I ended up threatening her once too. Tilly had a go at me for threatening the Girlie with spanking, then used my threat to threaten again "Daddy is nearly at the point of smacking you!" Then Tilly broke and threatened to take the Girlie outside, it was now 2am. The threat worked and the Girlie went quiet. The sobbing continued in a fearful and fitful manner until 2.40am. Then she started again with the full whirlwind. Tilly went in and an argument raged, with Tilly hissing "shut up" every five or so seconds (in fairness, I'd resorted to putting a hand over the Girlie's mouth previously to try and get a word in). About 3.50am this argument abated. The sobbing every so often resumed and Tilly and I tried to sleep.
I woke at 4.30am, checked my watch and listened carefully. Girlie was asleep. I checked on the Boy, he was fine, and then tried to get a little more sleep. Missed my alarm and woke again at 6am. Stayed in bed until 6.30am. Got up for work.
Boy joined me, which was nice, and we pootled about with me attempting to do my day's routine without any sleep and the stress of having a lesson unplanned for the day. At 7am Girlie came to find me. I hugged her, apologised for my anger in the night and explained that we loved her. We wanted her to be able to sleep to help her get over her cold. I got her some books, as she requested, and then went to get ready. And the whirlwind began again, the Girlie started screaming "Go away Daddy!" from her room across the house to where I was getting dressed. Then she started throwing her books around the room. The Boy was troubled: "Can you shout at 'er because she shouting too loud for me?" he asked. "No, shout louder than 'er, she too loud!" When she continued: "Can I 'it 'er? Maybe I 'it 'er and she stop shouting too 'oud for me." I explained we did not do this.
Of course, when I went in, she threw a book at me. It missed. But I smacked her. So I lied to my Boy.
She stopped. The hysterical shouting and screaming and torrent of abuse stopped. She did not sob. After shouting 'ow' at me a few times she simply stopped. I went in and apologised. She started to wind herself up again, so I stated that she was my daughter and that I loved her and that I was wrong to have smacked her. She seemed mollified. And I left. The Boy crawled into bed with a still sleeping Tilly and I went to work. Late. At 7.50am.
I felt terrible. One of the things Tilly and agreed was that we would not smack our children (smack is the UK equivalent of spank). I have done it once before and it was awful. Now I have done it twice. And once the Girlie starts to escalate, Tilly is apt to lose it and escalate right back. They feed off one another after a point. But I smacked our child. I do not believe that the Girlie's behaviour is normal. It is terrifying what happens and how quickly she can work herself up to unreasoning hysterical shouty person. And, in conversation with Tilly, any problems she identifies with herself "we" must deal with and "we both do it" even if we don't. If it's something I do, why then, I must deal with that alone.
I rang my mother, which is a silly thing to do. She used it as an excuse to challenge our 'lack of boundaries and routine' because we haven't sent them to school. Our 'too free attitude' because we don't force our children to eat all the food at a meal and challenged my idea that smacking was wrong "what are you implying about how I parented you?" because when talking to my mother everything is about her - oh, yeah, smacking was used a lot in my childhood and my mother was the scariest of our parents. After my father's violent disapproval of our parenting back when he took me to see the Pet Shop Boys I didn't bother ringing him.
I can't talk about my shame and feelings about what I did with Tilly. It's not really appropriate and my thoughts about what she does will inevitably become moans and then an argument - and I know not all, possibly less than a third, of my points will even be valid; I just need to vent them. I can't talk to my family. Recently, my brother and his wife found they were expecting another child, we found out by accident. They haven't been in touch for any of the birthdays in my family for two years and, around June, I stopped sending cards and getting in touch on theirs - it seemed like there was little point. Since then we haven't really talked about, well, anything. So talking to my brother is right out and my parents are a bad choice.
So there's here instead. I know that I need to get back into therapy and, you know, try to make it work this time rather than being a shit about it. I also know that Tilly and I need to get into couples' counselling if we're to have any hope of changing the sexless situation. I realise that the latter of those points is vanishingly unlikely as we have no one to look after our children even if we could afford something.