It’s been a couple of weeks since I wrote a solid post, and to those of you who plan your life and all major decisions around my blog posts, I sincerely apologize. To the rest of you aka all of you, I apologize as well. As you may have gathered from my mostly short yet bitter posts over the past few weeks, I have had a bit going on. My daughter got Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease, which was an agonizing week of high fevers and Contagion-style quarantine. She was recovered for approximately two days before she spent a night throwing up for reasons unknown, and then miraculously recovered again for about a week. She then got Erythema Multiforme related to the HFMD virus, which caused even higher fevers and horrible hive-like lesions and sores all over her little body, including the inside of her mouth. Fun for the whole family! After a week of that madness, she recovered for a day – just long enough for us to overconfidently decide to celebrate with a weekend getaway. On the first day of the vacation she got a nasty cold complete with, yes, a high fever.
Needless to say, it has been a tough month. Definitely the toughest month since my daughter was born. And it feels like maybe the toughest month since I was born. I have had some hard times in my life, though admittedly not as hard as many. I have had my fair share of illnesses, surgeries and hospital stays. Somehow though, it seems more difficult to take when it is happening to my daughter rather than directly to me.
Of course, it hasn’t been all bad. There have been some great moments when she is feeling better and all seems right in the world. I have learned a lot of lessons. I have gained a bit (ok, a teeny, tiny bit) of patience. I have discovered that I can be stronger than I ever thought I could be. However, I have been working so hard to be a good mom that I haven’t had much time to be a good… anything else.
I haven’t had much time to be a good friend. Many a phone call, text and email has gone unreturned in the past month. And when I do manage to find the time to chat with my friends, it’s mostly just to vent. I end up talking so much about what’s going on in my life, that I rarely ask what’s going on in theirs. Jerk!
I haven’t been a good worker. I have turned down a lot of work simply because I just can’t take care of my daughter and take care of work too. I had a choice to make, and as a freelancer, I was in the position to make it, so I chose my daughter. I wouldn’t change those decisions, but it doesn’t exactly make me the most reliable person to hire.
I haven’t been a good homemaker. Not that I usually excel in this arena, but my usually feeble attempts at cooking, cleaning and hosting have gotten beyond pathetic – we’re talking frozen dinners/baby stuff covering every surface of the house/turning my underwear inside out so I don’t have to do laundry – pathetic.
I most definitely haven’t been a good wife. When I am stressed, sad and angry at life, or even when I am frustrated with my daughter, I have to take it out on someone. I obviously can’t take it out on my daughter and I don’t have life’s email or phone number, so the back-up choice has been my husband. Fortunately I picked a partner who doesn’t usually feel the need to take his frustrations out on anyone, but who understands me enough to know that I do. And so he lets me. Usually.
And out of everyone, the person I have treated the worst is myself. I have stopped exercising, managed to take stress-eating to whole new level of disgusting, and some days have decided to forgo even the most basic levels of general hygiene (I guess I should apologize to my husband for that one too.) And as a general warning to anyone who encounters me on the street, I am prone to break down in tears for no reason, and just as likely to start muttering to myself in a scream-whisper. Oh yeah, and there’s a strong chance that I will be wearing a dirty bathrobe. At first I thought I might be pregnant. Now, I realize that I have slowly been losing my mind.
I am a half step away from ribbon roll earrings and rollers in public. Next stop: Eating my own hair.
But things are looking up. My daughter is finally recovering from the latest installment of Outbreak 2012, hopefully this time for longer than a day or two. So, there will be no more excuses. No more of the selfish friend who only talks about herself. No more of the wife whose husband is slightly afraid he will wake up in the middle of the night to find her standing over him with a butter knife. No more main-lining red wine/coffee/entire sleeves of Oreos. No more half-assed work. No more depressing blogs (for now). No more messy house…Ok, ok. Who I am kidding? I have a toddler. The house will always be messy. Deal with it… or you may wake up to find me standing over you with a butter knife.