KD Robichaux- Wish he was you (The Blogger Diaries Trilogy Book 2)

by Unknown

  It would be nice having our own separate space too. He could keep all his crap in his room, and then I could decorate mine however I wanted, without worrying if he thinks the bedding is too feminine or he has enough room in the closet.

  My brother Jay and my dad are going to help me move in a little less than two weeks, right before Aiden gets home. I’ll be able to get everything set up how I want it, without having to argue with him. I don’t know why he always tries to dictate where things go. I swear I think he just likes to feel like he has some kind of power over me. He doesn’t truly care that the bed is on the wall with the window, or the bookcase is on the opposite side from the TV. I think he just likes to argue, getting some type of enjoyment out of upsetting me. Last time we moved, I flat out told him that since he didn’t help me pack everything up, he had no right to tell me where everything went when we unpacked at my parents’. I wasn’t going to deal with his shit. But this time, I wouldn’t even have to have that annoying conversation, because I’d have it all done before he got home.

  I’m taking more classes at one time than I have since my semester in Texas. I’ve been able to keep on top of everything, holding all four of my courses at a steady A. I’m trying to bust out as many hard ones as I can now, that way my last couple of semesters will be easy. Also, I’m trying to do as many online courses as possible too.

  My mom said she’d be more than willing to keep Josalyn while I’m at school, but I just can’t bring myself to leave her yet. She’ll be four months old tomorrow, and I’m still breastfeeding her. I’m scared if I spend hours away from her, it’ll fuck up the routine we have down, and also mess with my milk production. Not to mention, it fucking hurts when I go too long without feeding her. I don’t know why, but my boobs just don’t like pumps. I can only get about four ounces out, and that’s barely enough for one feeding. I’ve made it this long without using formula, so I don’t want to start now.

  I have absolutely nothing against people who use formula; shit, I wasn’t breastfed, but the benefits of breast milk are all the incentive I need to let my daughter keep using me as her own personal vending machine. I’ll get my body back to myself when she’s a year. I’ll stop then, when there’s really no beneficial reason to keep doing it besides the closeness you get with your little one.

  Maybe after this semester, I’ll give it a go and sign up for classes on campus, but for now, I’m going to enjoy crawling into bed in my pajamas with my laptop and doing my assignments while Josalyn snoozes beside me in her crib.

  Kayla's Chick Rant & Book Blog

  September 12, 2007

  Been so busy the past two weeks I haven’t had much time to update y’all. For the first time in three years, my birthday was awesome! I mean, it wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was so much fun. I put Josalyn to bed at 9 p.m. as usual, kissed Mom and Granny goodbye, and then Anni, Brittany, and I went to this new Irish pub that opened up in town called Paddy’s. The owner, whose name really is Paddy, is from Ireland, and he and his musical partner Bill play live music every night. Paddy plays the guitar, Bill plays the electric violin, and they both sing everything you can imagine.

  They played show-stopping renditions of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” and “Sweet Child of Mine,” but the best was when they played “Take On Me” and pulled me up on stage to play the tambourine when Anni yelled it was my birthday. I’ve always loved that song. My dad has it on a 45 record and would play it every Sunday afternoon when we’d get home from church. We’d dance in the living room while Granny complained the music was too loud.

  I was a rebel and drank two glasses of wine, but after being pregnant for nine months, and then breastfeeding for four and a half, I’m a lightweight and was totally sloshed. Anni grabbed me off the stage just in time before I followed Paddy’s Irish drinking song’s instructions when everyone yelled, “Show us your tits!”

  We laughed all night long at the songs about foreskins and Irishmen drinking too much, sang along to “Zombie” by The Cranberries, and about bust a gut every time a girl would pass by the stage to get to the restroom, and Paddy would screech the song to a halt to tell her, “No number twos in there, sweetheart,” or “Schwing…schwingidy, schwing-schwing,” if she was particularly good-looking. It was the best night I’d had in a very long time.

  Surprisingly, after Anni got me home safe and sound, waking up with Josalyn wasn’t as painful as I thought it was going to be. Thank goodness for that “Mommy chip” in my brain I read about. A mother’s instinct is a mysterious and miraculous thing. I move into the new house tomorrow, and then Aiden gets home two days later. Anni is going to come over and help me unpack after my dad and brother get all the furniture and boxes moved in. I’ll post pictures of my new set up! I found some new bookcases to put in my room. No more keeping them in cardboard boxes because the douche canoe says they take up too much space. Blasphemy!

  Just gotta get past the midnight hour

  September 14, 2007

  Five-hundred sixty-five dollars and ninety-six cents. My heart leapt into my chest when I found the Wal-Mart receipt in the bathroom’s little trashcan. I had ran in here about to wet myself after spending the last couple of hours washing, drying, folding, and putting away clothes, and when I happened to glance over to replace the toilet paper roll, there it was. A receipt for $565.96 spent on a brand new PlayStation 3.

  My hands begin to shake as the argument we had the very day he got home from deployment flashed through my mind. We’d had a screaming match over a diaper bag I’d wanted. Yes, it was pretty extravagant, nearly two hundred bucks for a diaper bag, but hell, I deserved it! I’d been working my ass off at school, plus I was considering it a birthday present from Aiden, since he hadn’t bothered sending me anything while he was still overseas.

  He was so pissed off at me, screaming at me and waking Josalyn up, that I finally gave in and told him I’d return it. I was so angry I cried. They were furious tears, and I hated to let him see he got to me like that.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at the time. 8:27 p.m. Aiden had switched shifts and was now working from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. I had just laid Josalyn down in her crib, but as the immediate idea hit me, I didn’t give two shits if I woke her up. I storm into the living room and grab her carrier then bring it into her nursery. I gently pick her up, kissing her plump little cheek before getting her all strapped into her car seat.

  “We’re going for a little ride, baby girl,” I whisper to her, not wanting her to fully awaken, but needing to speak to someone, anyone, before I burst with the adrenaline pumping through me.

  I set her carrier into its base in my back seat, making sure it locks into place, and then crank up my Malibu, feeling a spike of glee slice through me. I hook my headphone over my ear and call Anni. When she answers, I immediately start ranting.

  “That motherfucker! He has the audacity to force me to return my birthday present, and then the shithead has the balls to go out and spend almost six hundred bucks on a fucking game console?! I’ll be fucking damned! I swear to God, he’s going to make me end up on an episode of America’s Most Wanted! I’m going to fucking snap, Anni.”

  “Where are you? You sound like you’re driving. Where’s Josalyn?” she rushes out.

  “As soon as I found the receipt, I got her out of her crib and put her in the car. Our happy asses are going to the bank,” I tell her. I can actually feel the wildness in my eyes.

  “You’re upset, girl. You need to calm down with that baby in your car. Think of your little one,” Anni says soothingly.

  I’m stopped at a stoplight, so I take in her words and take a deep breath, letting it all sink in. She’s right. They say driving upset is just as bad as driving drunk. I need to chill the hell out, so I don’t put my girl in danger. After a few more calming breaths, the light turns green, and I take off at a normal speed, when before I would’ve probably burned rubber.

  “I’m good. I’m going to the ATM and taking out my fair s
hare, goddammit. I can only take out $500 at a time, but you bet your sweet ass I’ll be getting the difference tomorrow. That motherfucker has messed with me for the last time,” I vow.

  “Well, stay on the phone with me until you get home. I don’t like you going to an ATM by yourself when it’s dark.”

  “Yes, mother,” I tease.

  I pull into the bank’s parking lot and around to the drive-up ATM. I put in my pin number after swiping my card, and a thrill shoots through me as I push the button on the screen for $500. When it shoots out my twenties, I squeal excitedly and put it in my purse in the passenger seat. Tomorrow, I’ll go open up my own damn account. Something tells me I need to start saving up as much money as I possibly can.

  Not an hour later, Aiden calls me in hysterics, having checked the bank account like some obsessed stalker. I can’t wipe the smile off my face as I tell him evilly, “We’re married, Aiden. Everything is fifty-fifty. So unless you want me to use your brand new PlayStation 3 you hid in your room as target practice with Granny’s shotgun, you’re gonna shut your fucking mouth and drop it.”

  Having been around my hormonal wrath while I was pregnant, when I had a tendency to throw and break things, preferably near his giant head, he knew I wasn’t messing around. He didn’t bring it up again.

  The next day, I don’t bother going to the ATM to withdraw the rest of the money. I go back to the boutique and rebuy my adorable diaper bag.

  September 25, 2007

  Ten days.

  Ten fucking days we’ve been officially moved into this house, and I’m already done. I have absolutely had it. There is no coming back from this. Not that I thought Aiden and I would ever be a happily married couple. But this? I can’t be married to a person who I look at and absolutely hate.

  Hate is a strong word, and some would say it’s wrong to say you hate someone. But at this very moment, I hate Aiden with every fiber of my being. You can neglect and ignore me, whatever. I’m a big girl; I don’t fucking need you. But you do it to my baby girl, I’ll fucking kill you before you ever get a chance to do it again.

  I took the day off from school because I had a lot of errands to run today, so I asked Aiden if he’d watch Josalyn while I went and got everything done before he went to work at two. It was around 9:30 a.m., and I put her in her high chair after I finished nursing her, placing a couple of her favorite toys on the tray in front of her.

  “I pumped enough for you to feed her if she starts getting fussy before I get back. It’s in the fridge,” I told him as I rolled her high chair next to the couch, where Aiden sat with his headphones on, playing one of his shooter games. He didn’t answer me, so I stepped in front of the TV, finally getting his attention.

  “What?” he asked, trying to look around my body.

  “Are you going to be able to handle this? Or should I just take her with me?” I inquired.

  “Nah, she’s good. Go get your shit done.”

  “Did you hear what I said about her bottle?”

  “In the fridge,” he mumbled, and I rolled my eyes and stepped away from the TV. I walked back over to Josalyn and gave her a bunch of kisses all over her face, and after receiving the giggle I wanted, I grabbed my purse and headed out the door.

  I had a ton of things to get done, quick things, but a lot of different places, so it would’ve been a hassle parking, unloading the stroller from the trunk, getting Josalyn’s carrier out of its base, doing whatever stop I was at, and then reloading everything back into the car. Then, throwing in diaper changes and a feeding to slow me down, all I wanted was to get all my crap done fast so I could enjoy the rest of my day home with my girl.

  I went to my school and turned in a project I had to do for one of my online classes. I went to the DMV and finally renewed my driver’s license, which expired on my birthday a couple weeks ago. I returned a couple baby outfits Josalyn never wore that still had the tags on them, trading them for the size she’d be in next. I got my oil changed at my cousin’s car dealership, and finally ran through Wal-Mart for some groceries.

  When I walked in the door, arms loaded down with plastic bags of food, it was the smell that hit me first. Had Riley had an upset stomach? I looked around the floor for doggy diarrhea, but there was none in sight. Then it was the silence inside the house that caused my heart to skip a beat. Aiden’s game was on the start menu on the TV, but he was nowhere in sight. His car was outside, so I knew he was home, and as I listened more closely, I heard the water running in the very back of the house.

  I dropped the bags on the kitchen floor and headed to the bedroom to see if he might be giving the baby a bath or something. Maybe the smell was an exploded diaper and he was cleaning her up.

  Instead, what I found scared me more than I’ve ever felt in my life. It was Aiden in the shower, but that wasn’t what terrified me. Josalyn wasn’t there. She wasn’t in the bouncy chair sitting on the bathroom floor, where I keep her when I take a shower.

  I slammed the bathroom door against the wall in my panic to find her, making Aiden shout and throw back the shower curtain. “You scared the shit out of me,” he said with a short burst of laughter. His face fell when he saw the look on mine, and he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Where is my baby?” I questioned in a voice that would spark fear in the manliest of men.

  “What do you mean where is she? She’s in the high chair. You had to walk right past her when you came in,” he replied, giving me a stupid look.

  I didn’t even listen to whatever else he had to say. I ran as fast as my legs could move, and when I got back into the living room, there was my poor, sweet little five-month-old baby girl, slumped over asleep in the high chair, where I had sat her nearly four hours ago.

  Tears filled my eyes as I ran to her. I held my breath as I removed the tray with one hand, holding her upright with the other. I sat it on the couch next to us and then unbuckled the belt around her tiny little waist. Reaching under her arms, I lifted her from the chair and pulled her to my body, and her stretch and sigh against my chest allowed me to take my first full breath since I saw her.

  There was wetness at her back, and when I looked down, I saw her onesie was soaked through with poop. I hurried to her bathroom, not bothering to take her to the changing table in her nursery because there was such a mess, and I sat on the toilet, laying her across my legs. By now, she was waking up, and when I looked at her face and beside her beautiful hazel eyes, I could see she had been crying, probably wearing herself out until she fell asleep like that. I wiped at the crusted tears that had dried in the outer corners, and more tears of my own formed.

  When she first looked up and saw me, her face lit up like it always did, and I felt both relieved and guilty. I should have known better than to leave her with that asshole. I should have just taken her with me. Yes, it would have taken longer to get my stuff done, but at least she would have been safe.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up, pretty girl,” I whispered to her, a teardrop falling and landing on her onesie as I unsnapped the buttons between her legs. I carefully rolled the fabric as I pulled it up, trapping the excrement inside so it wouldn’t smear as I pulled it over her head. It was so full I didn’t even want to bother washing it, so I just pushed it into the top of the Diaper Genie. Next, I took her diaper off, rolling it with one hand and then putting it into the Diaper Genie as well. I didn’t care I was getting the poop all over my legs, especially when I saw how red she was all over her privates and butt. And in that moment, that wasn’t the only red I was seeing. That was the very second every ounce of me filled with hate for the man who was supposed to be taking care of my baby while I was running errands.

  I stood and placed Josalyn in her bath seat in the tub while I frantically took my clothes off as fast as I could. I turned on the water and got it to the perfect temperature, picked her back up, and held her steadily under the running water, washing away all the mess. After removing her bath seat, I carefully stepped into the tub and rin
sed off my legs where she had laid across them, and when it was all off, I used the shower head to clean out the tub before pushing in the stopper and filling it with her lavender-scented soapy water.

  I don’t know how long I laid there in the tub with her against my chest, using her pink cup to pour water over her precious little butt, where I could see the terrible burn rash that had formed from sitting in her dirty diaper for so long. It wasn’t until I heard Aiden come in from the garage, where he always threw his uniform into the dryer before work that I pulled myself together and got out. I placed her in her bath seat while I wrapped a towel around myself, and then grabbed her up in one of her hooded towels, swaddling her up tight so she wouldn’t get chilled.

  I took her into her room and got her dressed, making sure to slather her in lots of diaper rash ointment. The angry red still showing through the thick white salve. I sat in the rocking chair next to her crib, and I rocked and nursed her until she fell into a nice, deep sleep. I didn’t want to let her go, but I also didn’t want her to be around what was about to happen, so I laid her down in her crib and smiled when she let out a big sigh as she stretched out. I glanced at the baby monitor on her dresser to make sure the light was on, and then left the room, pulling her door closed behind me.

  The simple fact Aiden hadn’t bothered to come check on us the entire time I’ve been home fixing what he’d done only adds to the fire inside me. Rage like I’ve never felt consumes me as I stalk into the bedroom, where he is sitting in the chair by the window putting on his work boots.

  “You motherfucker,” I growl, feeling my entire body trembling with emotion.

  He looks up at me in question, but I don’t give him time to speak before I blow up.