What a Crap Week

Monday started out great. The Little Man woke up in a decent mood and we watched Mickey! in the morning while snuggling and drinking apple juice. Went to work, and I actually felt as if I had a bit of a handle on my job, which has been out-of-control stress for a month. It was a lovely day to boot.

At 3:00 all hell broke loose. Things at work fell out of the sky and onto my head and I spent until 8:00 that evening scrambling to put them right again.

And, mentally, I snapped.

I spent much of that night having insomnia and mentally raging against The Man. In the morning, I had an hour-long meeting with a project manager, much of which I spent BAWLING UNCONTROLLABLY. (Don't you want to hire me? I'm such a professional.) And I went home for the day because I was such a gawd-awful mess.

Wednesday morning we had a doctor's appointment, a Level-2 sonogram. We had to be there at 7:00 AM, I woke at 4. Insomnia-rage-against-the-man wash, rinse, repeat, with an extra helping of worrying about the baby. So my wonderful hubby woke early too & we went to breakfast at 5:30 before the appointment, you know, to beat the rush.

The sonogram confirmed a couple of problems that the doc had found the previous week. Turns out I have polyhydramnios, and the baby, she has duodenal atresia. Neither is fatal with proper treatment. It could be so much worse - both are correctable. Yadda Yadda Yadda.

But.

All of a sudden I have a high-risk pregnancy and have to "take it easy" with a 2 1/2-year-old. All of a sudden, I have to choose a hospital based on whether they have a Level 3 critical care unit, not in case of emergency, but because I know she'll need it when she's born. I have to find, not a pediatrician, but a pediatric SURGEON and anesthesiologist and neonatal specialist because she'll be in surgery within 24 hours of her birth, and be invaded with tubes and such the minute she's born. All of a sudden I have to be constantly hyper-aware of her movements as there's a greater chance that her cord will wrap around her neck. All of a sudden I have to prepare my maternity leave around the possibility I could go into labor a month or more early and that my precious little girl will spend her first weeks, if not months in the hospital instead of her crib with the new pink sheets. All of a sudden. . .

It is a fluke and a miracle that we caught it - a nurse scheduled me for a sonogram last week that I wasn't supposed to have, thank God. We also, thank God, live in an area where we have choice about surgeons and specialists and specialty hospitals. And, catching it early lets me have my mental breakdown now with just normal pregnancy hormones to deal with and not the crazy post-partum stuff. But can I just say, all thankfulness aside, I'm not dealing with this well.

Went in to work after the appointment for an ill-advised and way-too-frank meeting with my supervisor (you REALLY want to hire me now, I can tell), then went home to work for the week. Because I am a walking disaster that spurts tears at the drop of a hat and spends 2-3 hours in the dead of every night alternately cursing my job and worrying about my baby. Because I can't actually deal with people right now. Because I'm actually hiding in my house until my face stops leaking already.

I wonder when that will happen?

Not for the Faint of Stomach

I put the Little Man down for his nap last Friday, as usual. Also as usual, he didn't go down easily, or quietly, and was still protesting when I shut the door and told him I'd see him when he woke up. Not usual - but pivotal - was that he was wearing only a diaper at the time. Not because he suddenly had a need to go a little WT, but because he had totally trashed his clothes at the park.

After a bit I heard actual crying intermixed with the whining and protesting that was trickling from his room, so I went up to investigate. And, oh my. OH my. Ewwwww doesn't even come close. (and those with a weak stomach, you'll want to stop reading RIGHT HERE)

I walked into the room, which reeked. The Little Man was laying in his big boy bed, crying, covered in crap. Oh yes, literally (shudder). I actually had to grab him by the shoulder for the march to the tub because it was one of the few clean spots I could find.

As much as I can piece together, he decided that it was time for a nice BM, and that going in his diaper was overrated. So, he stripped down and did his thing in the corner. On the carpet. Then, because hey, why not, he RAN A GIANT DUMP TRUCK THROUGH IT. Apparently he then tried to clean it (or himself) off with his hands, climbed the ladder and got into the top bunk of his bed, came back down and crawled under the covers in the lower bunk. And then, only then, did he decide that he did not like being covered in poo so much and began to cry.

WHAT THE FUCK.

All I can say is thank God for Clorox wipes, carpet shampooers and washing machines. If it weren't for them I would have had to cut his room off the house and let it just fall into the yard. 'Cause, DAMN people. Cleaning little boy crap out of the treads of a giant dump truck is NOT for the weak-kneed.

I truly hope this is a one-time-only precursor to interest in potty training. There just HAS to be a silver lining.

Fall!!

Temperatures have been bearable around these parts for a couple of weeks. A few of the over-achieving trees have started to turn. Yes, there are hints that my favorite, favorite season is here. And THANK GOD, I didn't think summer would ever end already. Fall, winter, spring, these are all fine by me. Summer, with its breath-stealing humidity and skin-burning death rays, and, perhaps worst of all, shorts, is completely for the birds. I always look forward to its end with glee.

I really know Fall's officially here, however, because I've had my very first Pumpkin Spice Latte of the season, accompanied by the mandatory slice of pumpkin bread. Mmmmm-mmmm, damn tasty stuff.