I’ve had to work while recovering from the flu and Peyton came down with a fever last night and threw up this morning. I’m driving all over town shuttling my baby between home and my parents since my ex would rather not get sick and he’ll be traveling Wednesday through Friday and I refuse to let his awful wife play nurse to my baby.
So… it’s up to me to dig in – along with my mom, stepdad, sister (who is recovering from strep) and her three kids (some of whom who are also recovering from various ailments such as strep and a staff infection).
But how blessed am I that when they realized it was either have Pey stay with them all day while I worked or have her play nurse they both said, “OH GOD NO. PEY STAYS WITH US.”
Mom did the doctor visit today, stepdad did the pharmacy run, and they had a quarantined section of the house just for their little patient replete with a TV, vibrating bed and ice chips.
I’ll be back in the morning bright and early. Dear God, is this week over yet??
I didn’t do a picture yesterday; the flu had me laid out and I couldn’t bear to figure out how to get my pics off the cloud to my email to my phone to the watermark app to the blog, etc., etc., etc.
In fact, I don’t think I’m even going to watermark this one today. I just don’t have it in me.
My throat is raw from coughing all night and my face packed with congestion. I have to be at work soon and it’s a long night before I get Pey from my parents. Thankfully it’s a school holiday and my baby stayed the night with them so I could get extra rest.
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Got tested yesterday morning and it’s the less nasty strain B. Luckily I have Nurse Faisal here to weight me down – er – wait on me.
Ha! If only.
Mommying doesn’t stop just because of the flu. I felt decent enough to take Pey to an 8 am class this morning then a movie this afternoon. But now I’m done and in bed at 7:30, so it’s not like I’m immune to its effects. I’ve just been so much sicker.
Jesus, in 2016 I’d already had two fevers by now and been completely laid out. I’m counting my lucky stars this go around.
I got sick in less than 24 hours. I hope to god it isn’t the flu. I’ll find out this morning. Cross your fingers for me.
And since my phone is dead and I haven’t dealt with the photo issue yet I’m posting the first boob pic I had in my library which was only backed up in September despite my best attempts to backup three weeks ago.
This posting every day thing is kind of hilarious. Quite the “day in the life of…” sort of thing.
Well, last night at a fancy Valentine’s Day dinner with my parents and my child I sneezed and sniffled my way through dinner thinking it was only allergies. I woke up this morning knowing it was much more than that.
I dragged my ass out of bed and took Pey to school, came home and went right back to bed. My ex texted about the loaner phone he’d left and I realized I needed it to call the doctor. It took me 3 hours to get it able to make a call. Fucking technology.
I made an appointment for tonight at 7:10, fucked around with the phone for a couple more hours, had a conference call at 1, napped some more then did the school, chiro, and Apple Genius run.
The chiro ran late, which made me miss my Genius appointment, which had me stuck at the mall an extra 30 minutes. While I was waiting my turn the clinic called to tell me my doctor had gotten sick and couldn’t see me. So now I have an appointment in the morning.
Found out my phone is dead-dead, not just fixable-dead, and ran out of the mall late to Pey’s extracurricular activity which meant changing – and eating a burger – in the car before we got to our destination.
Ran back home, rested for a couple of hours and did the kid pick up run only to find out my poor baby was in a foul ass mood so I had a sour-faced child yelling at me as shower, homework, and bed came upon us.
And now I’m doing February Photo Fest and setting up Boobday. I feel like a ghost and a rock star.
I’m also giving myself a gold star because sometimes us adults need one.
Around 11 pm last night I lay in bed looking at my Hy email. I had some business to attend, clicked a link to download a required app, and *POOF* the screen went blueish-black.
I clicked a button or two, tried to reset it. Ok… hard reset then. Ooh! Ok, white screen with the black apple, here we go! Nope. Blueish-black screen again.Goddamnit.
My phone had never done this before and it had given no warning. I opened my laptop and started Googling and troubleshooted until 2:30 in the morning.
Multiple hard reset/reboots/restarts/rewhatevers later and still nothing.
I got up and set the digital clock on my dresser for 6:01 am and tried to calm my whirring mind. How would anyone get a hold of me? How would I do my job? I texted my mom and sister, but because mom is on a stupid Samsung still from her political protest of Tim Cook donating money to some Republican back in 2016, the texts kept getting rejected.
I iMessaged my sister instead and asked her to tell mom my situation in the morning, opened Netflix, and clicked on Chopped. One round in to the episode I noticed my battery was low.
I got up again, my eyes burning with fatigue, and rummaged in my computer bag. Fuck. I’d left the power cord at the office. I distinctly remember thinking, “I won’t be on my computer much tonight,” and leaving it behind. What an idiot I was.
I shuffled back to bed, tucked the body pillow between my thighs and hazily watched the chefs try to create something edible with beef kidneys, pickled cockerels, papaya, and beets. The battery died the very moment the 3 chefs threw their hands up in the air as time ran out.
“Ran out,” indeed.
How much more of a reminder did I need at how dependent I was on my devices??
So this morning I awoke to NPR Morning Edition’s Rachel Martin and David Greene (who I have just discovered is disturbingly hot) and clawed my way out from under my pillowy comforter.
I iMessaged my ex and some other iPhone friends with whom I keep regular contact (I’m looking at you, Ann) and a couple Galaxy users, but they were kicked back just like my mom’s confirming the limitations of my current situation.
In my frustration and worry in the wee hours of this Valentine’s Day about how I’d maintain contact to the roiling hive that is social media I was struck by just how tenuous those connections are. I have some people in my life whom I speak with on a very regular basis that I can only reach through my phone – Instagram DMs, KIK, Snapchat – and I have no easy way of notifying them (though I did with two ladies lest they think I died because that’s how consistent our connections are via social media).
Then I worried about February Photo Fest. How would I post the pics I’d taken without access to my phone?? VSCO Cam, my primary editing app, hosts 2 dozen pics I hadn’t yet downloaded to my library. How will I get to them? I don’t remember what my password is and I never “signed up” with them. All my passwords are kept on a Note… on my phone.
This whole thing will hopefully have a happy ending because I recently backed everything up on my laptop. The Note will be restored, my photos, all the Galaxy and Android texts sent my way while I was unplugged. Whatever else I’m not even considering right now that I may be missing because of lack of access.
I still haven’t heard from my mother about the message my sister sent her this morning, but I am going to rely on her extensive life experience not relying on a smart phone to show up on time tonight. Our fancy Valentine’s Day dinner at a downtown restaurant is important!
My exhusband has magnanimously offered me his backup phone while I await my appointment at the Genius Bar tomorrow afternoon, so all too soon I’ll have a little skeleton crew phone back. I kinda wish I could just burn it and rely on a landline again like it was 1995.
However, it’s 20-fucking-18 and I have responsibilities to keep so, luckily for me, I had already sent myself one extra photo I picked just for February Photo Fest.
Each Monday carries with it either happiness or despair. Every seven days my heart builds to it, dreading or hoping in equal measures. It’s the day my baby goes to my ex or comes back home to me.
Today was a reunion day, a glorious, sweet, exhaulted day filled with Golden Retriever puppies, winning lottery tickets, and back rubs by talented men.
It’s also a hard day because Peyton struggles with each transition, gnaws on the week before in that little baby heart way that children have. It’s hard there. My ex and his new wife are sharp and hard where I am soft and open. They are regimented where I go with the flow and where our needs lead us.
Of course we have broader rules which are the same (respect, responsibility, chores, etc.), but the people that we are are fundamentally at odds. He wants Pey to fall in line and adhere to his rules, I want Pey to understand the rules and learn to trust the voice inside, to find a larger reason to do things.
Our baby is still just a child; life takes practice. My ex expects a lot more than what a child that age is capable of doing. And so Mondays are moody for my angel too because I am home and I am love and I am a soft, safe place to land and the place before me was rough and rocky. I’m a place where it’s safe to let go.
And then the clock begins to tick loudly again and the joy of our reunion fades to sadness and dread because all too soon I will be without my rosy-cheeked little blond-haired, blue-eyed sidekick. Then just as quickly the week flips again and begins to sizzle, like the uncooked side of a pancake, and the week starts to build to joy from loss once again.
Up, down, again and again and again. When it’s time to have a truly empty nest I’ll have had a lot of experience with absence and loneliness, but sometimes I worry I will have a heart shaped hole in my soul because I’ll never have another joyful Monday with my baby again, it will just be a life filled with sad Mondays.
For now I will savor the feeling of this happy Monday, of my baby slumbering in the other room with the dog and the cats entwined beside me on a pile of our laundry which I will lovingly sort and fold over the course of the next few days. Until next Monday.