…and I'm having a hard time holding or hugging my kids, can't cuddle up with my hubby, my glasses hurt my nose, bra straps hurt my shoulders, and the wound on my shin oozes and sticks to my pants.
My oldest daughter gets mad and uses me as her outlet, her punching bag. The beating I took yesterday was the longest for sure and the most aggressive. She didn't care about allowance, her sisters, her backpack, our neighbors. She yelled obscenities, hit and kicked me with the windows open and while I was holding baby Claire. The little sisters tell her not to yell at mommy, but it doesn't matter to Calliope. When she decides she's mad, it's all over.
Chris showed me how to hold her arms behind her, more like elbows behind, and use my weight to sit us both down. I can hold her that way until she's out of energy. I hope. But I can't care for three scared little kids while I'm holding the oldest.