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Poor, poor pitiful me

Barbie Jr. is breaking my heart.  I spent an hour this morning trying to calm her from crying when I took her to school.  Get an e-mail from her teacher at the end of the day that she wrote a story in writing about her mommy and daddy not being together and making her cry.  Cue the meltdown.

I've officially worn down.  Found my breaking point. I'm exhausted from worry and stress.  Anxious.  Nervous.  And just feeling blah in general.  

Of course it doesn't help matters that when I tried to talk to asshat about things he got all tough love.  Sadly, I wish I thought that was coming from him and not his girlfriend.  Then he wanted to question her meds.  Again, hello girlfriend.  This evening when Barbie Jr called me she broke down and wanted to come home.  I never feed into it.  I always encourage her to stay there insisting that her daddy misses her and she needs to spend time with him.   I tell her to go talk to him and tell him why she's upset.  Within two minutes I have a shouting phone call from him wanting to know what is going on and why is she crying.  

For once, just for once, for the sake of our only child, I just wish he would man up, grow a pair of balls and actually want to do what is right for her rather than doing what he always does, which is find someone to blame.    I wish for once he could do the right thing and make a decision on his own, or have an independent thought.

I feel like a failure as a parent.  I know I did everything possible to hold us together as a family and failed.  I should have gotten her into counseling earlier, but she seemed fine, so yet again I failed.  And now, he wants to accuse me of babying her or loving her too much.  How dare he.  Apparently, I'm the only love and comfort she finds right now and I wish he could see that.  It's hurting her, him, and their relationship.  But we all know, in typical asshat form, in the end, I'll get the blame.  I always do.  



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