The easiest and most relaxing week ever. Said no one.

Another quick post… just for the sake of having some type of record of these first weeks of Baby Middle’s existence.

On Monday Middle was 4 weeks old.  At 6:30am Oatmeal kissed us goodbye.  He was off to work and then catching a plane for a business trip that would keep him occupied until Thursday night.

By the time he boarded the plane, Poppyseed was sick.  It hit her out of nowhere.  We were walking out the door to go spend an hour with some friends, and she suddenly burst into tears and began clutching her legs and belly.  As it turns out she has some type of tummy bug.  I’m not talking about the bug that makes you throw up.  Nope, I’m referring to the other end.  That poor baby has been potty trained for a solid year this month, and until Monday she had only had two “dirty” accidents.  TWO.  In a year.  And now, well, the number is quite a bit higher than two, and no one is more upset when it happens than that poor little girl.  🙁

I’ll spare you all of the boring and gory details, but suffice it to say… the last 48 hours has been rough.  ROUGH.  A sick 2 year old who needs to be rushed to the potty is work in itself, but add a 4 week old baby who nurses for a half hour at a time, and well – that makes for a hell of a job.

To top it off, I walked into the kitchen at 5am yesterday morning and saw that our ceiling was stained and wet.

Areyoufriggenkiddingme?

I considered pretending I didn’t notice.  I could just act surprised if the ceiling caved in, right?  “Honey it’s crazy, it just fell in with no warning!”  The last thing I wanted to do was figure out what to do about that.  In our family we have what you would call gender roles.  I breastfeed babies and cook.  Oatmeal fixes stuff.  Period.  Nothing is allowed to break when he is out of town!!

You laugh, but it’s the truth.

I couldn’t risk our ceiling falling onto our dining table, so I snapped a picture with my phone.  I sent him a quick text with just one sentence, “This concerns me.”  He didn’t wait long before acting, and thus began a series of phone calls to different companies and inspections and quotes and questions.  Now my house is full of fans because the master closet, Poppyseed’s closet, and downstairs ceiling are all wet and we don’t really feeling like growing a bunch of mold where we sleep.

I wouldn’t care about all of the noise and extension cords, but all of these motors make the house even hotter than it already is.  Our AC is cranking 24/7 but the coolest my house can get is 81 degrees.  Throw my postpartum hormones into the mix and I’m changing shirts every two hours.  I feel bad that Baby Middle has to spend all of his mealtimes so close to my armpits, poor kid.

There is a silver lining.  I now know I have much more help and support than I realized.  I really don’t like asking for help, even when people offer over and over again.  I do love to give help, and genuinely like it when I can do someone a favor, but for some reason it’s harder to be on the receiving end.

This week though, I just said yes.  “Can I come and help you with your kids?”  Yes, you can.   The front door is open, let yourself in.  “Can I go to the grocery store for you?”  Absolutely, we need bananas and grapes and applesauce… and there is a pharmacy across town with a prescription ready to be picked up, it would be wonderful if you would get that for me, too.  “Can I come and stay the night with you and help out?”  Yes, I don’t think I’ve even changed the sheets in our guest bedroom since our last visitor, but I’m sure they shower and I could use you here as soon as possible.  “I would love to drop something off to keep Poppyseed entertained, do you mind if I come by with it this evening?”  Yes, and tomorrow I will rip it out of the gift bag and open it with my teeth so that Poppyseed can play with her new prize for a half hour while I feed the baby.

Because when the baby wakes up and screams in hunger, the toddler is hysterical because she had a sudden accident in the recliner, and the repairman is seconds away from knocking on your door…

You just need help.  I needed help.

So thank you for helping.  It’s Day 3 of this crappy illness that has my daughter feeling like junk, but I feel certain it will pass.  We will make it to the other side of this madness, and one day I’ll read this blog and think, “Whew, that was not a fun week.”

And next time we have a newborn, Oatmeal ain’t leaving on any four day business trips.

Just sayin’.

stay-at-home-mom-ecard

This is for you, Bree. Rest assured, I know the answer now.

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Comments

  1. Yup! Military wives call it the deployment curse. Everything is going fine until the second the plane rolls out and then all hell breaks loose. It seriously needs to be studied scientifically for statistical significance!! Cars that were running fine, break down in the middle of the interstate, kids get sick, washers flood the house, etc etc. I had a friend once that the day after her husband deployed a bat got stuck in her house. I mean really…a bat!? Some sick way of testing your resilience. 😉 I’m so sorry your week went that way….just plain STINKS!

    • I took Violet to our neighborhood park yesterday just to let her get some wiggles out, and even though it’s only 1/8 of a mile from our house we drove. (Just in case she got sick again!) Well I left the windows down and we played and then Violet pointed to the car. Turned around and see a cat sitting on the hood of my car. Not just any cat, a huge black cat. I was thinking, “okay if that cat gets into my car through my window I’m really going to be upset.” Ha. That wouldn’t have topped the bat story though, but eesh.

      • Too funny…glad she’s on the mend!! Enjoy your weekend…you earned it! Caroline is in college station this weekend! She’ll be at the game with my parents. Someday our whole crew will get there all at once and finally get to meet up with mike there!!

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