Today was the worst Christmas ever. We got into fight after fight – or, maybe it was really just one big long fight with breaks in between, I don’t know.
At one point, I threw open our pantry door – the same way I always do – only, this time, my three year old was running through at the same time and I got him under the eye with the door handle.
Next, he is yelling about getting everything cleared off the island. I was working on that. I went to slide our small wine rack over a bit only to lose a couple bottles on the floor, one of which shattered into a million pieces. He then proceeds to scream that I’m a stupid fucking bitch and something I didn’t quite catch that sounded like how I’m the most stupid person he’s ever met.
When my mom arrived shortly afterward, he proceeded to tell her how I had purposely done all this stuff – which I immediately corrected him – and we got into it again. She had enough and left. I did finally convince her to come back but it wasn’t easy.
Yeah, I know I’m not all that sharp. Honestly, ever since my car wreck where I got whipped around and knocked out when I was pregnant with my oldest, I have never been quite the same. I’m not trying to say that I was a rocket scientist or something before, but I was considerably smarter then. I never slurred my words. I enunciated beautifully. I wasn’t nearly as forgetful about things. But I can’t go back and redo it, yanno? So, this is me. And I just live with it. Why can’t he?