The moments that make you reconsider everything

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I know I said I would post fresh belly pictures (for the pervs), but today ended up being more eventful and tumultuous than I ever even imagined possible. It all started going bad right at the time of the day I look forward to the most, when Deven and I climb into my bed, put on a movie, and drift off to sleep before I have to go to work.

This morning, Deven seemed fine. He was his usual really talkative self once he awoke somewhat and got some breakfast in him. I took him to school, and he actually yelled “bye mommy!” as I was leaving the classroom. I took the full four hours I had this morning to watch Intervention and take a nap. When I went to pick him up, he  seemed really bright and happy. Let me just say, at this point, nothing at all seemed unusual.

So, we get home, and I start messing around with stuff downstairs and Deven heads up to his room. I started getting really concerned because it gets really hot up there during the day when the heater is running and the sun is bright. When I went up there to retrieve him for nap time, I brought a cup of apple juice because I knew he had to be a little on the overheated and thirsty side. Well, I was half right; his face was flushed and he felt hot. His nose was also a little runny, all of a sudden. After fighting with him for 10 or so minutes, I finally got him to come into my room and watch a dvd with me, but he wouldn’t get into the bed. When I tried to offer him the apple juice, he would scream and kick and cry. He started insisting I take the apple juice downstairs and put it on the table. Uh, no, we’re not going downstairs just to drink something that is already up here. It’s not going to taste any different.

Then he got really mad at me for not shutting up about the fucking apple juice, and the little shit actually took the cup and threw it across the bed. Onto our blankets, which are the blankets we are using to replace the king-size blanket that the dog peed on (note: the one that we now have to have professionally cleaned because it won’t fit in our machines.) Yeah, he got into some trouble.

I was still exhausted, and the only thing I wanted in the world was to rest after having spent much of the afternoon cleaning and fighting with my toddler. I broke down into hysterical holy-shit-my-house-just-burned-down tears. Staring at the mess on our only blankets, and the mess created by the giant blanket shoved in the laundry basket, and with the knowledge of all the other little messes lingering around my hellhouse, I wanted to fucking run. One thing after another, topped off with a sick kid and no husband around to help…why do people want kids again? Why do people want to take on responsibilities? Why didn’t just become a groupie and a vagabond and a panhandler again?

I decided to try and take Deven’s temperature since not only was he hot and not drinking, but he was also curled up on the floor with the pillow we gave the dog after I accidentally spilled coke in his bed. He still was insistent on not getting into the actual bed. When I introduced him to his good friend, the ear thermometer, he began screaming, kicking and crying. I had to basically lay on top of him while I gingerly stuck this harmless thing in his ear. Sure enough: FEVER. HOLY SHIT, YOU GUYS. This kid NEVER runs a fever! The last time he ran a fever was when he was 1 1/2 and he had that stomach flu from hell! So, I became even more desperate to get him to drink. I also had to consider giving him medicine. I’m not even going to get into how that went. He screamed and freaked out over the prospect of an ear thermometer, and he threw a cup of apple juice across the room. Put the two and two together.

A teaspoon of liquid Motrin is not nearly as big of a deal to clean up as 6 ounces of apple juice on your only blanket.

I asked Vance to come home as soon as he could not so he could help me as much as so I could get the hell out of there and go to work. Yes, dealing with hungry, fat assholes would be a break from the stress of dealing with this feverish kid on my own.

While I was at work, Vance got Deven to drink apple juice and eat, and apparently his fever went down a little bit.  I still decided to take a different approach to medicine: I decided to try and see if I could get him to take down chewable tablets instead of liquid medicine. What? He would think it was candy. So I get home and tell him if he can have 2 M&Ms if he eats the “purple snacks.” He chews the first one up, gets this hilarious look on his face, and then starts SCREAMING and acting like he wanted to spit it out. I’ve never heard a kid scream from something tasting bad.

So, that was the last time that’s ever going to happen.

He is so my kid. When I was little, you couldn’t pay me to take medicine if it had any kind of flavoring, because it was always too sweet and disgusting and did nothing to hide the taste of the medicine. It was like potpourri spray after someone takes a nasty shit in a bathroom; it doesn’t help ANYTHING. And then when I got old enough to swallow pills, they had to be small, or else I couldn’t swallow them, and I would never go NEAR penicillin capsules, because you could still taste the medicine. This is my curse. This is what my mom meant when she would say “I hope you have a kid who is JUST LIKE YOU someday!”

Shit.

Good days

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I’m really not into blogging right now. Earlier tonight, when I was on my way home from therapy, I was thinking about coming home and writing for fun. When does that happen? But then there were all these distractions with Deven, and hot chocolate, and The Cosby Show on Netflix. After Deven went to bed, I took a shower and got into my pajamas, and now I don’t even want to do anything. I feel like I might have content for tomorrow, like freshly taken belly photos for you pervs! I know you can’t wait!

Anyway, today I felt really good, even though it didn’t start out that way. Deven had a half day at school, even though it was icy and kinda snowy outside. What is the point of half days? And they adjust half the half day for the preschoolers. Like, the k-5 kids get out at 12:45, but the morning preschoolers get out at 9:45, and the 9:45 preschoolers get out at 11:45, and it doesn’t make any sense. It just sucked. I was exhausted and I had just enough time to watch an episode of Teen Mom 2 before I had to go pick him up again.

Since he was home, I made out favorite lunch: penne pasta with marinara. I gave him a fork, and he started out using it, but he ended up just holding the fork in one hand, and feeding himself with the other. In conclusion, he was a huge mess, and he ended up getting a bubble bath, which he enjoyed. That felt like a great way to fill in that period of time between lunch and nap where I have no idea how to entertain him. I usually put on a movie and let him play with his wooden train set while I clean.

So I really didn’t start feeling great until therapy. I felt like I mostly had good things to talk about, and even when I didn’t, I was given really great insight. On top of that, the icy-snowiness gave way to frigid-windy sunshine, which greatly improved my mood. I have Seasonal Effective Disorder, and shitty gray skies are my Kryptonite.

And then Jackie made delicious chili, and Deven was being better than usual, and Yalena kept giving me hugs.

And thats when I came home, and felt good enough to do laundry, and give Vance hugs, and entertain the possibility of writing, and here I am. Sitting up in bed in my comfy PJs, writing a half-assed blog post.

White lies and nagging

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I recently read this list on BabyCenter or iVillage (one of those womanly sites) of certain parenting moves that some moms were ashamed to admit to. One of the first things on the list was lying to your kids on occasion. Like how tonight after dinner, daddy really needed to, uh, use his toilet in his bathroom for an extended period of time, and Deven wanted a bath in his bathroom, but I had to get him to bathe in my bathroom with me. He kept protesting, and throwing a fit, so I had to tell him the only thing he seems to understand lately: “Bathtub is broken, it needs batteries. You have to shower with mommy.” It shut him up right away.

Lying is not a black-and-white, good-or-bad thing. It’s a normal part of communication. Sometimes the truth is too complicated to express to someone you’ve just met and will likely never be close to. Or, like in the case I just described with Deven, he doesn’t understand explanations like, “daddy needs to shit very badly in his bathroom with a fan, so you just need to shut up and take a bath with mommy.” Sometimes, you just need to simplify the truth by at least partially masking it.

I also read another list on one of those lady sites of different things that happen during pregnancy that no one talks about. It had things on there, like, that the first three months suck, which is a big, fat no DUH. I mean, who the hell doesn’t talk about morning sickness kicking their asses for the first 10-12 weeks? Or that you’ll see an increase in vaginal discharge, which is gross, but didn’t strike me as being something people are hush-hush about. Maybe it’s because I have a tendency to favor TMI for the sake of humor, or maybe it’s because I am just disgusting.

ANYWAY.

The only one that really struck me was that women tend to judge their partners more harshly during pregnancy. That was something that no one has ever mentioned to me either time that I have been pregnant, and it’s something that I have found to be true this time around. Last time, Vance and I were kind of starting off in the same place. Having a baby was a total surprise and lifestyle shock for the both of us. I was just amazed that he stuck around, as I had seen so many other men refuse to do, that I wasn’t as concerned with how clean he kept the bedroom.

Now, this time around, I am constantly getting onto him for not helping me around the house enough. You know, you’ve read about how I frustrated I have been getting with him. Now that I know what he is capable of as a husband and father, I am beginning to demand more of him. That’s being coupled with the fact that having a kid has totally changed me from being a total slob, to being someone who actually cares about cleanliness (note: not quite a clean freak.) Now I regularly nag and yell at him, and when I actually think of how that must feel to have to listen to and take, I feel kind of horrible. He works really hard at his job, and he has a natural tendency to want to come home and rest for a while as opposed to immediately resume work around the house. Is that something I can really blame him for?

I have to start owning up to my recent raging bitchery. Yes, I am stressed and frustrated and HORMONAL, but that does not mean I need to take it all out on the people I love and depend on the most. Yes, I am mainly talking about Vance, but I have also been losing my temper entirely too easily on Deven. He’s a sweet little 3 year old boy! How is yelling at him when he really doesn’t deserve it going to help anything? I need to let some of this stress go. There is no way we are not going to be ready when this baby gets here. Last time, we didn’t even have everything we needed to set up until we were down to the last month of the pregnancy. I think we’ll be okay this time.

And really, if the dishes bother me so much, I should just shut up and do them. If it’s a matter of maintaining my sanity, the little bit of extra work will not hurt.

Vance is a really good guy, a great husband, and an awesome father. That whole stupid Facebook mess made me realize how much he does support me and accepts who I am. The last thing I want is to drive him away from me. I need him more than I think he realizes, or even than I realize sometimes.