Well I feel like shit. My baby fell face first off my bed this morning while I really should have been watching her more closely. Now her nose is all red and a little bruised.
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Been there. That feeling of fucking up when your kid potentially injure themselves never goes away.
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The best advice I got from my mom was ‘babies bounce’ or don’t freak out when the take a tumble as most of the time they are gonna be just fine. Still you feel like crap about it.
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It seems to have been only the battery that died, thank god. I was worried it would be either the alternator or some sort of electrical fault causing a slow power drain, but it doesn’t seem like it. Replaced the battery and it seems to be running reliably today.
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Yeah, that’s a shitty feeling, even when they’re basically OK. There’s nothing like a hefty dose of “I’m a terrible parent” to make you feel horrible.
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It’s times like this when I love Stephen Fry. It can feel very ungrateful to be depressed and have other issues when there’s nothing to justify them on. When people like him (or people on this thread, for example) are open about their own issues, it’s easier not to see it as a personal failing.
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I love Stephen so much. And every time I get near the edge, I think of him. If he can get closer to the edge than me, and somehow make it back, what have I got to worry about?
It may be a fucked up point of view, but it works for me.
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And it isnt! And I know you know that! And I want to scream it from the rooftops! Pain is pain, there is no fault. And when we need them I guarantee there are unlimited hugs (I’m a goddamn hug factory)
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Some of your wealthier Pacific rim nations, they’ll love this…
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What god did you piss off? If you fields fall fallow and all your oxen die and your daughters become blighted with boils you keep us posted ok?
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This is somewhere between “first-world” and “bachelor-lifestyle” problems.
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My wife and I regularly confess these sort of incidents to each other.
As in “oh, last week…”
Okay, not “regularly”, but… it’s happened.
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I gotta say, the bachleor life blows. Anyone here need a slightly used, sarcastic man-boy for basic tasks and mild chastising? I mow lawns and feed cats with aplomb!
Anyone?
…
…anyone?
Hell, I could be your chubby pool boy! I also know the difference between, err, different kinds of flowers! And when I do laundry, I know how to see colors and do it right!
I’m a total package!
Ooh, I also know how to make a bed, and if you give me a few hours I can iron pleats! Not only that, I can load and unload a dishwasher!
Also sometimes I can make appointments by myself!
And here’s my Party Piece–when I take out the trash, I put a new trash bag in the can! What’s not to love!
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My wife would say “why are you telling me this?”
My response: “It’s been obvious I need better PR.”
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Hay, I got skillz. I don’t unintentionally set things on fire (any more), I know what pick stitching is, when the dog vomits I clean it up and don’t just leave it there, and there is always TP in the bathroom.
I’m a fucking catch. (But not according to Tinder :D)
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When my daughter was learning to walk, she found her way up the stairs while my back was turned. She’d probably made it up about four stairs when I heard a sound and turned around to see a flying toddler hit the floor at the bottom. She was fine, but she’s had stitches since then - she’s just that kind of kid. I think my mum still partly blames herself for me not being completely neurotypical - when I was a baby I had a cot with a feather duvet, and one day she came in to check on me to find it covering my head. I had gone blue and limp, but she got me back to life again. (apparently there’s some link between oxygen deprivation during birth and autism, but not after that point AFAIK).
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There is nothing that can make me seethe with anger faster than going to throw something in the trash and find there’s no bag in the bin. HALF A CHORE IS WORSE THAN NO CHORE AT ALL! FINISH IT! /end-rant
On the upside, MrPant’s penchant for leaving the kitchen cupboards open and doors hanging ajar may be at an end as he walked into one this weekend and gashed his scalp open a good inch.
Pain is an excellent teacher, better than my nagging apparently.
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Times a million.
Yes, I am lazy. But the handful of easy, trivial chores I choose to do get done with grace and elegance. Why potential SO’s aren’t breaking my doors down astounds me.
I’m not disappointing, why don’t you want this!?
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That needs to be on a tshirt!
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I revel in being non exciting. Want a foot rub, a hot cup of chocolate, and a period drama on the television? I have a fucking PhD in comfortable
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