Some Days are Worse Than Others.

The Peach has discovered that if she bats her long, golden eyelashes at her sister and says, “I seep wif sishy?” Princess Punk will melt and bring her to bed with her. This is usually simply a ploy to stay up later and bounce around from person to person. Last night, the girls retreated to Princess Punk’s bedroom, The Princess grinning like a fool and The Peach with her arms wrapped tightly around her sister’s neck. 20 minutes later, my phone rings. Yes, my daughter called me from down the hall.

“Mom! Wait…. Hang on….” (rustling, then Princess Punk’s muffled voice)

“Who do you want to sleep with Peach?”

(raspy breathing then a slightly less muffled)

“I seep wif Mommy? Mommy! I seep wif MOMMY!”

“Come get her, I’m not getting up.”

So I turn of The Walking Dead and The Peach comes into my room. The Zen Master is playing on his computer, so it’s just me and the midget. We tickle and giggle and snuggle for a little while and then I put her in “The Big Girl Bed.” Which is not a big girl bed at all, but is in fact, her crib. She usually doesn’t have too much of a problem sleeping in her crib now, since she’s still about 6″ away from my head. Not last night.

“NOOOO! Don WAN it! I seep wif SISHY!!!”

Then she puts on the pout. I got her calmed down before hysteria set in and since most of our books are in storage, and it’s damn near impossible to get her to sit through storytime when she’s in “A Mood,” I put some bedtime stories on YouTube and let her watch them until she fell asleep. Which took about 20 minutes.

Not too bad… for a little while. Pretty much right after I fell asleep, she woke up and threw her binky (with phenomenal accuracy) directly at my eye. The she started crying.

“GODDAMMIT! OUCH! Zen Master… ZEN MASTER! Wake up and get your daughter, I’m done.”

So The Peach ended up spread eagle in the bed in-between us, waking periodically to whimper and cry, just loud enough to wake me up, but not her father.

And then I had a nightmare. I’ve been having them on and off, mostly vague, making me wake up abruptly feeling vaguely scared and disoriented.

Last night, was vivid.

It basically boiled down to my father trying to choke me in the hallway at work. I woke up hyperventilating with my hands protectively around my neck. It took me a full minute to become lucid enough to take my hands away, even with The Zen Mater’s firm, reassuring grip on my arm.

I slept through my alarm. Twice.

I cried through physical therapy this morning. I woke up with a headache from my jaw and just hurt diffusely through my head, neck, shoulders and upper back. The pain was all too familiar and I was so frustrated and angry because it was gone. For 4 months, I had huge relief from that debilitating pain and I was free. And then, in a matter of a few minutes of life-changing insanity, it all fell apart. And it isn’t fair. Because in two years, when his record is expunged from the misdemeanor he plead to, I will still be struggling with the physical and emotional damage he unleashed upon my life and the life of my family.

I got to work angry and sad and hurting and unable to focus on very much at all. I made it about 2 and a half hours before I walked down the hallway to my boss’s office, shut the door and started crying as I handed him a slip so I could use even more of my precious sick leave to go home and hide.

Princess Punk was in a snit and The Peach was alternately grouchy and psychotic. I ended up shutting myself in the bathroom and sitting in the shower, sitting in water as hot as I could stand it until the hot water ran out.

And then I climbed into bed and stared at The Peach’s crib, which is not supposed to be in my bedroom, and thought about how much I’d like to be somewhere else right now. And then I zoned out on facebook games until I was able to pass out.

Tomorrow is another day.


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