Saturday, February 25, 2006

Too Much

I'd like to think I'm a realist...but this is too much.
I went away on vacation for four days...and I come home and it just sucks.
I feel like I was missed not because I'm special, but because of what i do.
The fucking house was a pigsty, clothes, toys, and junk/garbage everywhere, curtains closed, not a smile on anyone's face, dishes all over the kitchen.
I tried to sleep in this morning, and I had to wonder why I'm so stupid to set myself up for disappointment. I know better. Of course, D woke me up cause he was so rowdy. I'm sorry, you're telling me that out of 3 fucking people up with him, not one can keep him quiet?? Oh, yeah, that's right, I'm sorry...once Chance gets up D is no longer ANYone's responsibility but his.
Grow up.
We've been living together for 2 years now...we should know how to function compatibly together, but this just isn't so.
I understand that Chance can't do absolutely everything...but the greeting I recieved yesterday after I got home was completely uncalled for.
Like, yeah, let's make amber wait at the bus depot for a half hour before anyone comes and gets her (Chance's excuse, she didn't leave me the car, or tell me if she had a plan...Fuck off), and then lets have a messy house (no excuse for this), and let's not forget that our child is playing the forbidden game Rainbow 6 (wtf?!?!) , nothing is ready for dinner, oh yes, and Chance has a Basketball game no more than 2 hours after you arrive...Fuck, a little effort would NOT kill ANYone.
Well, at least Darius has shown me how much he missed me...playing with me, snuggling me, he drew me a picture and just in general being a nice boy for me.
I find it insulting that after phone calls, and blog postings stating that "we miss you" y'all couldn't lift a fucking finger to show a little more gratitude, and take a little time out of your fucking lives to say "gee, you really are special to me", and not just because you can clean well, and cook, and keep D in line, but because YOU are special.
Sorry to say, that was the point of my remember MY identity. I'm not just D's mom, Chance's wife, Gayle's daughter. I'm Amber. I'm pregnant, yes, but that shouldn't stop me from being who I am, and enjoying her.
It is in times of frustration like this, that I truly wonder what the fuck the point is in me putting in as much effort as I do. I take time out of my life for others, I make that time, I make the effort to have everyone come home to a clean house, most times food,
I hate my life.

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