“Frustration” by Sharonpack on Flickr
The word of the morning is frustration.
I was skeptical when Ex explained away Baby’s fever and grouchiness by way of teething but went with it. There I go again, trusting him. I told the daycare what was up and asked they keep a close eye on him and call me if it got worse. Call me they did. I was sure it wasn’t teething by the way he’d acted the night before, and by the way they said he’d been acting over there. Something was not right.
I flew to the doctor’s office with him and the doctor was a bit puzzled. No teething that’s for sure. His two year molars are in and his next set are at four. But his ears weren’t too bad, his chest was ok, and his throat wasn’t too bad. He did have a sore on his tongue and she was thinking maybe he was getting a virus in the mouth. So then I told her I thought he should be tested for strep throat. His brother had had it a few weeks ago and a girl in his daycare class was out with it now. She said since there’d been exposure she’d do it but there was no sign of strep anywhere. So she tested him and it came back positive. And so the budget officially blew at CVS as I bought the antibiotic and stocked up on ibuprofen and acetaminophen to help alleviate the pain. By the time we were done with the doctor and the pharmacy it was getting really late so I stopped for some take out and just shoved the budget out of my despairing brain for a while.
Once again, I’m tired. Once again, I feel at the bottom half of a very steep sheer-faced climb. Ex always brings me sick kids. I feel like all I do is patch them up and send them back to get sick all over again. I take all necessary precautions in my house to help prevent germ-spreading and I’m sure it’s likely Baby picked up the strep at daycare but is it really just one giant coincidence after another that more often than not they’re sick when they come back from a weekend with their dad?
I’ve got more spending to do this month and am already over by about $37. I’m pretty sure when all is said and done, I’ll have gone over budget by about 20% chipping away at the amount I’d planned on rolling over to cushion against the inevitable income gap next month.
I’m trying to breathe deeply, I promise. But I’m just awash in frustration and hormones. I forgot my lunch at home today. My son and I had a huge fight this morning. I want to shake everything off but something else just settles on me and starts driving me nuts. It’s the inconsolable feeling like a part of me is just demanding I be a whiny, angry, bitter person today and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.
Maybe I’ll make Rice Krispies Treats this week. Do you know I’ve never made them? I am really enjoying all of this baking but boy do you use up a lot of ingredients! Ingredients that used to last ages in my house like flour, butter, and brown sugar are disappearing way too fast. I’m sure when it comes down to it, buying the ingredients for these things is cheaper in the long run, and I know they are much tastier but I guess I’m just not used to actually using up the things in my kitchen if that makes any sort of sad sense. I find it hilarious I’m noticing this the same month I’m lamenting all of the times I’m dining out or on the go.
Hey, help me figure out what to read next. I finished The Heroes of Olympus, Book One: The Lost Hero and am almost done with The Red Pyramid (The Kane Chronicles, Book 1). I have at my fingertips: The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, Kiss & Tell, Soulless, and PostSecret. Here’s a blurb about each one (all from Amazon):
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest: As the finale to Stieg Larsson’s Millennium Trilogy, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest is not content to merely match the adrenaline-charged pace that made international bestsellers out of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The Girl Who Played with Fire. Instead, it roars with an explosive storyline that blows the doors off the series and announces that the very best has been saved for last.
Kiss & Tell: The series of sketches that make up this memoir are arranged by the author/narrator’s age, beginning with before her birth, when we see her parents meet in Japan. In bold, graphic black and white drawings, sometimes reminiscent of Marjane Satrapi, the author describes a frankly startling range of shenanigans in her early teenage years. These include long stints as a runaway and many sexual and romantic entanglements along the way.
Soulless (The Parasol Protectorate): Carriger debuts brilliantly with a blend of Victorian romance, screwball comedy of manners and alternate history. Prickly, stubborn 25-year-old bluestocking Alexia Tarabotti is patently unmarriageable, and not just because she’s large-nosed and swarthy. She’s also soulless, an oddity and a secret even in a 19th-century London that mostly accepts and integrates werewolf packs, vampire hives and ghosts. The only man who notices her is brash Lord Conall Maccon, a Scottish Alpha werewolf and government official, and (of course) they dislike each other intensely. After Alexia kills a vampire with her parasol at a party—how vulgar!—she and Conall must work together to solve a supernatural mystery that grows quite steampunkishly gruesome.
PostSecret: Confessions on Life, Death, and God: Warren’s fifth book presents a never-before-seen collection of the most personal PostSecrets he’s ever received—those dealing with life, death, and issues of faith and belief. The book lays bare the confessions of people at every stage of life, from every major faith (or from no faith). Warren’s latest collection of secrets is his most profoundly moving yet.