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Holy crap... Mega rant ahead.
Aug. 23rd, 2010 02:15 pmYesterday... my god. I hardly know where to start.
So. The day dawned where Pea would start his days with daddy. We set a time according to his naps and meals, so he would be as alert and happy as possible for the switch. Pea and I were ready. Things were packed (mostly), Pea was happily puttering around, pointing at all the playthings put in bags and such. And we waited. And waited. No B. Finally I texted him and asked where he was and I simply got a message that said he'd leave right away. As in: He hadn't even started moving yet before I reminded him.
First kick in the gut.
Anyway, he showed up, everything seemed good. Except for the fact that Pea kept falling and hurting himself. Apparently his focus was less than perfect. He happily took a walk with us, though and all seemed well, until we were at B's door. He stopped with a sort of brain fart expression on his face and went: "Oh. I kinda forgot. Floozie is in there." *insert various incredulous faces and noises here*
Second kick in the gut.
I decided to suck it up for Pea's sake and we went into the apartment. All seemed well, but the original plan had been for B to do the heavy lifting, but I was so upset that I decided to go back for the last bits myself, while B gave Pea a clean diaper on his brand new changer. I went back home, sniffling and shaking, gathered the last bits and went back. When I got there, Pea was still unchanged, because it turned out he was terrified of the changer. To calm him down, I took care of his diaper on the couch. When I asked for something to wipe his rear with, I was handed... cleaning wipes. You know, for windows and such. I was horrified. I snarled and the fact tha Floozie seemed to be the one who knew where everything was certainly didn't help any.
Third kick in the gut.
We found some baby wipes (which I knew where was because I packed them for the asshole myself... pun intended). When the changing was over, B seemed to have a little trouble figuring out how his weird, new diaper bin worked, so I asked when he'd got all this baby stuff. "Yesterday," Floozie remarked calmly. I was so angry. I asked B several days ago if he was just about ready for Pea and he had lied to my face (again!!) and said that he just needed the bed made up.
Fourth kick in the gut.
That piece of information made me shake and cry right there in front of Floozie and Pea, and I was angry and worried. So I asked B seriously if he was absolutely 100% sure that he was ready to take care of Pea. Because if there was ANY doubt, I would take him back with me. My heart wouldn't be able to bear it if B wasn't completely sure. B has always had this habit of pausing awfully long between his words or before answering. I always found it marginally irritating, but yesterday every second cut my heart like a fucking knife.
Fifth kick in the gut.
He did seem to be sure and certainly willing, so I had to splint my fractured heart and let him take over. I wasn't even inside my apartment before I was sobbing my heart out. I called my mother for a long, sobbing conversation and then went on to rant to a friend online. It took me a little over an hour to stop crying.
There are so many issues with this I hardly know what to do. If he makes a habit of being late for picking up Pea, we are going to have words.
If he doesn't even read shit before putting cleaning chemicals on his son's skin, then we REALLY need to have words!!
I'm so fucking worried. It like a constant ache deep in my gut. I try to calm myself. Pea is going to be at daycare most of the week and B is willing to make it work. And if the will is there, the rest will come. Still, I have everything ready to pick up my baby at a moment's notice and it makes me feel somewhat better.
I could rant on for a while about this, but I'd better stop before I start crying again.
So. The day dawned where Pea would start his days with daddy. We set a time according to his naps and meals, so he would be as alert and happy as possible for the switch. Pea and I were ready. Things were packed (mostly), Pea was happily puttering around, pointing at all the playthings put in bags and such. And we waited. And waited. No B. Finally I texted him and asked where he was and I simply got a message that said he'd leave right away. As in: He hadn't even started moving yet before I reminded him.
First kick in the gut.
Anyway, he showed up, everything seemed good. Except for the fact that Pea kept falling and hurting himself. Apparently his focus was less than perfect. He happily took a walk with us, though and all seemed well, until we were at B's door. He stopped with a sort of brain fart expression on his face and went: "Oh. I kinda forgot. Floozie is in there." *insert various incredulous faces and noises here*
Second kick in the gut.
I decided to suck it up for Pea's sake and we went into the apartment. All seemed well, but the original plan had been for B to do the heavy lifting, but I was so upset that I decided to go back for the last bits myself, while B gave Pea a clean diaper on his brand new changer. I went back home, sniffling and shaking, gathered the last bits and went back. When I got there, Pea was still unchanged, because it turned out he was terrified of the changer. To calm him down, I took care of his diaper on the couch. When I asked for something to wipe his rear with, I was handed... cleaning wipes. You know, for windows and such. I was horrified. I snarled and the fact tha Floozie seemed to be the one who knew where everything was certainly didn't help any.
Third kick in the gut.
We found some baby wipes (which I knew where was because I packed them for the asshole myself... pun intended). When the changing was over, B seemed to have a little trouble figuring out how his weird, new diaper bin worked, so I asked when he'd got all this baby stuff. "Yesterday," Floozie remarked calmly. I was so angry. I asked B several days ago if he was just about ready for Pea and he had lied to my face (again!!) and said that he just needed the bed made up.
Fourth kick in the gut.
That piece of information made me shake and cry right there in front of Floozie and Pea, and I was angry and worried. So I asked B seriously if he was absolutely 100% sure that he was ready to take care of Pea. Because if there was ANY doubt, I would take him back with me. My heart wouldn't be able to bear it if B wasn't completely sure. B has always had this habit of pausing awfully long between his words or before answering. I always found it marginally irritating, but yesterday every second cut my heart like a fucking knife.
Fifth kick in the gut.
He did seem to be sure and certainly willing, so I had to splint my fractured heart and let him take over. I wasn't even inside my apartment before I was sobbing my heart out. I called my mother for a long, sobbing conversation and then went on to rant to a friend online. It took me a little over an hour to stop crying.
There are so many issues with this I hardly know what to do. If he makes a habit of being late for picking up Pea, we are going to have words.
If he doesn't even read shit before putting cleaning chemicals on his son's skin, then we REALLY need to have words!!
I'm so fucking worried. It like a constant ache deep in my gut. I try to calm myself. Pea is going to be at daycare most of the week and B is willing to make it work. And if the will is there, the rest will come. Still, I have everything ready to pick up my baby at a moment's notice and it makes me feel somewhat better.
I could rant on for a while about this, but I'd better stop before I start crying again.
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