Wednesday AF returns for the second time in three weeks, just as I thought I might be about to ovulate (sorry to those for whom this is utterly incomprehensible or just too much information). Coupled with that and cramps come a HUGE mood swing and I find myself tired and snappy like never before.
Friday I totally lose my temper with Jenna when she refuses to come inside for lunch and then screams and screams and screams when I bring her in anyway because she and her friend are being rude to each other and need a break. I act like a complete child, Morgan starts a nursing marathon in the heat, I put Morgan down for a few seconds to get Jenna a drink (she has been nagging for an hour, what three year old can ask only once?) so Morgan hits me and does one of those high-pitch shreiks and I lock myself in the bathroom to get a grip on myself before I lash out at someone. Martin sneaks off work early to come home when I confess that I have self-harmed for the first time in years (please don't shout those of you who were around when I was seriously depressed, I told you that I couldn't make promises to never do it again and this is the first time I've really felt quite this low since then).
Saturday Martin and I row all day because I feel like I'm struggling with *everything*. The fact that AF returning means I'm not pregnant, and my worries about having a big age gap, and my feelings about how I treated my youngest brother when we were tiny, and fear that I'm getting depressed, and guilt about the last couple of days, all rolled into one big bundle of hurt. First we argued about getting the bus - roughly his position was that we can't afford it and mine was that I'd rather be short of cash next week than have Morgan's head sunburnt because she kept throwing the hat on the floor. Then we had a row at the Springwatch event because Morgan had finally managed to lose the hat and he didn't think it was worth looking for it. Eventually we had a quiet but deadly row about who is responsible for watching the children when he isn't working (he offered to babysit lol, which is a pet hate word-out-of-context - a Dad can't babysit his own children unless a child isn't *really* a joint responsibility!).
By Sunday we had made up although I was still feeling shouty with the children and every little thing was grating on my nerves. I agreed to see a doctor about how low I have been this week and about the 14 day cycle I just had. I don't expect it to come to anything. On Monday we had a good day, and Tuesday was fine too (though one of Jenna's shoes has gone missing and we've turned the house upside down looking for it!
Today is Wednesday and I'm child-free while the girls go to Attenborough with their grandparents. I was uninvited by a very stroppy Jenna - she is really being rude at the moment, I guess she's overshooting "assertive" because she's feeling threatened by my anger and tears.
Last night I had a really long cry about how much like my mum I am and how somehow, in spite of trying so hard to avoid making judgements of Jenna and trying even harder not to crush her decision making, she is turning into me. My mum loved me to bits, and parented me wonderfully, but growing up I never understood her love for me, and I still want to think of that as not-inevitable, something that doesn't have to happen to us. I'm passing that on all over again, hating every time I see her reactions changing to fight-or-flight like mine. Hating every time I hear my mother saying, in my voice, all the things I promised I'd never say to my own children.
I'm so proud to be like my mum, yet also so frustrated! And I can't, just can't, want Jenna to be like me. :(