Cry for help

It's the middle of the afternoon.  I've no idea what I've done wrong, but it's something, and it's something bad, because I'm being screamed at.  No amount of apologising and pacifying works.  I am screamed at repeatedly.  Then the hair pulling starts.  Fistfuls of my hair are torn at, and the screaming continues.

Finally it quietens down.  We have a nice moment.  We forgive each other.  But I walk around on eggshells, terrified I'm going to do something again to start the violence.  I needn't bother.  It makes no difference.  I've caused the anger again.  The screaming starts.  Right up close, right in my face.  No hair pulling this time, but sharp nails are raked down my face.  I bleed.  It's my own fault, I tell myself, I caused this.  I am punched in the tits.

I say the right things, forgive, pretend that it's OK and it won't happen again.  It was just a bad moment.  We're over the worst.

Then she simultaneously vomits on me and fills her nappy.

I am in an abusive relationship with my baby.

But because she's quite cute, I keep forgiving her.  And I'll get my own back when I'm an OAP and need my nappy changing.