It's a tear my hair out day.
Starting Tuesday J's pretty much been wrapped up in this insane conference his company's been doing and so he's been a ghost. Last night I don't know what time he came in. He says 2:30. My experience has been to add anywhere from 30 to 60 minutes to his answers. I guess the difference this time is that I am PMSing HARD and really I'm just not in the mood to be Single Mom. My house is beyond words disgusting. I mean seriously, you guys should see the leaning tower of clothes in my room. How it's still standing is beyond me but it's spilling onto the dresser and spreading all over the floor. There is crap EVERYWHERE. And the dishes have been untouched since Sunday night I'm pretty sure. So finally I got tired of the stink and shoved everything into the dishwasher. And I just can't will myself to do ANYTHING. I'm really shocked I did the dishwasher thing. I'm pretty sure my grandmother and mother think I'm either very ill, pregnant, or severely depressed because they keep checking on me and I know pity when I see it tattooed on your forehead.
I hate that.
Hate's a strong word. I really don't like that.
This week, I have also been really scatter-brained. I mean it's really in a bad way. I just can't focus on anything. I'm a mess at work and I've had to do the whole tunnel vision thing and go Man-Brain because every multi-tasking attempt on my end has been epic fail.
Burned out is an understatement.
And I'm really distracted by photography all of a sudden. It's strange. It kind of came out of nowhere although I'm sure it came from somewhere!
The thing that has me most distracted is Baby. He's been having these insane spells of stomach pain since about the end of January. And all they've been able to say so far is "Constipation!" but I just don't buy that. Today I just got so worked up about it I really almost did go across the street to the Children's Hospital. We went there in February. This time I was ready. I was gonna say, "My baby's sick and I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong with him and so help me if you tell me it's a cold because you are an overpaid snotty LIAR" I sweartogawd THIS close.
Instead I called the pediatrician's office and they were just closing up and the poor girl who answered my phone call kinda freaked out when I told her what had been going on and I think she could tell that I was really close to crying and she told me to bring him in first thing tomorrow morning so the doctor and I could work a new plan of action.
I don't understand why these things take DAYS or WEEKS. My baby is in PAIN. PAIN. Not uncomfortable. Not cranky. He's in freaking hardcore ohmygod face turns red PAIN. I videotaped an episode of it last night. Because I just don't think they believe me. Or that they understand me. It's hard to watch.
I feel really defeated today. Like if I was in a boxing match and the round just ended and I'd be in my corner I'd be telling my Coach that look really I'm done with this fight. Next fist that makes contact, I'm hitting that mat and I'm not waking up until tomorrow. Or maybe next week.
Last time I went to the psychologist she asked me again if I wasn't interested in some medication to even me out.
No thank you.
But maybe… no. No thank you.