Tuesday, October 18, 2011

One of Those Days

A warning from My Mister: This is the longest post IN THE WORLD!

So, this lack of sleep thing is really starting to take its toll on me. I really wish I could get more than 1-2 hours of sleep at a stretch and….no. That’s it. MORE SLEEP PLEASE. I’ve been putting Little Mister in his crib after his first night feeding around 8pm and he’s been sleeping around 4 hours before needing to eat again. Now, this would be awesome if I actually went to sleep at 8pm to take advantage of those wonderful, glorious 4 hours. But, you see, those are 4 hours where I can be baby free and actually do things like BE WITHOUT A BABY for a few hours. So, I’ve been going to sleep around 11pm. That means 1 hour, 2 if I’m lucky, of sleep before he starts waking up again to eat. Dear Lord can that boy eat. And poop. Did I mention the poop? (Which, for the last 2 days has been a dark green and has been freaking me out once again. Yes, I’m doing research and it seems like it could be foremilk/hindmilk imbalance, which makes sense since he went from eating every 30 minutes to every 2 hours which means OH.MY.LANTA MY BOOBLIES ARE FULL.)

Once he wakes up to eat, he then eats every two hours until 4am at which time he eats (snacks, really) EVERY FREAKIN’ HOUR. Thus he’s back in bed with us which means the whole putting-him-in-his-crib-so-we-can-have-the-bed-to-ourselves thing isn’t working the way we were hoping it would. THUS, my brain is NOT working to its optimal capacity which, as I found out yesterday, REALLY REALLY SUCKS.

Let me back up a bit…. This weekend was the first weekend since arriving in Oz where our family is complete. We’ve been missing our little girl since she’s been in quarantine for the past month. I was so concerned for her since she is old, arthritic, and quite possibly possessed by Lucifer himself when in the presence of a vet.

Our darling little girl finally arrived home safely on Saturday and I was hoping to bring her straight home so we could conduct an exorcism she could de-stress from all she’s been through in the past month. Unfortunately, due to a urinary tract disorder she has to eat a special food that you can only get at a vet, and, as I found out on Friday, the local vet won’t just sell me a bag- they need to see her first since it’s a special food. Argh. I warned them about her special…uhh…personality quirk…but they still insisted they needed to see her prior to selling me some food. Ok, bub. It’s your funeral. So we headed to the vet straight from the airport.

Well, due to a lack of communication on their part (the turd heads didn’t tell me they charge an extra $30 for a Saturday visit), I opted to take her Monday. The thing about this decision is, Big Mister was with me on Saturday and Little Mister was well fed and sleeping so seeing the vet with our demonic spawn wasn’t going to be such a horrifying ordeal, especially since she was already safely in her cage from the plane trip and I didn’t have to wear my garlic and crucifix so I could wrangle her in there as her arthritic hips rotate like pinwheels made of sharp talons as she releases the deep throated YROOOWOOWWWWWWL call to her underlord master.

I set her appointment for early afternoon, giving myself 2 hours from my much needed chiropractic appointment to get in, get adjusted, get back home, pick her up, and then get to the vet. Factoring in a hungry baby? Nope. Didn’t do that. (That’s called foreshadowing, FYI.)

SO. Due to a rather unfortunate lapse in my New Mother Superpowers (WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME NOW???), I slept in with Little Mister trying to squeeze as much brain power as I could in those 1 hour chunks. Not only did it NOT boost my cranial capacity, but it also left me with only 30 minutes to get us both ready to make it to my chrio appointment. I’m still not exactly sure what the heck happened in those 30 minutes- I have vague memories of boobs and poopy diapers but curiously none of toothbrushes- but we somehow made it in the car and were barreling down the road in record time.

Now, it’s tough enough driving on the wrong side of the road when I’m well rested and not running late for an appointment; when I’m bleary eyed and not exactly sure when was the last time I shaved my legs and wishing I wasn’t wearing shorts and hoping beyond hope that I put on deodorant so that this new chiropractor wouldn’t have to put on toxic waste gloves to adequately adjust my poor crooked back, let’s just say driving on the right side of the road would have been a challenge. So, it really shouldn’t have come as such a huge shock when, after I blew past yet another non-descript white SUV (heck, even my car is a non-descript white SUV), it just so happened to be a non-descript white SUV with flashing lights and a siren. (Note to Little Mister: This was a lesson in things you should not do. You should not drive over the speed limit EVER but especially when you are in a foreign country and unsure of which side of the road you should pull over when chased by a cop. You should also never be chased by a cop. You should also never use those words you heard your mommy shout. And you should never leave the house without an extra pair of undies because you never know when you may soil them as you are breaking the law and cursing like a sailor.)

After quickly assessing whether or not my boobage would counteract my lack of grooming enough to get out of a ticket (why oh why didn’t I put on mascara at least? Or brush my teeth??), I resigned to my fate knowing I’d have some ‘splainin’ to do to My Mister when we got the arrest notice in the mail. After informing me that I was going 100 in an 80 zone (it sounds so much more impressive in miles than kilometers), the cop, whether because my boobage worked or because he could smell the stench of rabid desperation of an unbathed new mother running late, let me off with just a warning which made me think that this day was not going to be as bad as I first thought it was. Yeah. Optimism is stupid.

When we finally made it to the chiro and were only 15 minutes late, which is practically on-time in New Mommy Time Zone- I quickly shoved a piece of gum in my mouth and breathlessly let the receptionist know how sorry I was for being late but then the room became a little dim when she told me, “That’s ok- your appointment is actually in an hour.”

ARE YOU FLIPPING KIDDING ME?!?!

I had to reschedule since I had an appointment for my darling demonic cat at the stupid turd head new vet, so my poor crooked back remains poor and crooked still.

As we headed back home, I noticed a semi in front of me (in the left lane) with his left blinker on but thought it was just a silly Australian driving with his blinker on since he was pulling into the right lane. So we continued on, my lead foot helping us to pass on the left side when OH MY GOD WE’RE GOING TO DIE!!! You know how in the US the semis have a sign that says, “WARNING: WIDE RIGHT TURNS”? Well, in Australia, THEY DRIVE ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD which means a semi with a left blinker pulling into the right lane IS GOING TO SMASH US DEAD!

After slamming on my brakes and once again educating my son on what words he should not say (EVER, Little Mister!!), I jump started my heart, thanked the Lord there were no cars behind us, and shakily made it home safely.

The one bright spot in this scenario (there I go with that optimism again), was that I got to feed Little Mister prior to going to the vet. Yeah. Well. If he only could stay full for any amount of time, I’m sure this bright spot would have been really really swell.

So as to not have a repeat of my morning, I got my garlic and crucifix ready with 30 minutes to spare and started hunting for my cat. Surprisingly, she actually got into her cage very easily. After wondering if there was a newly possessed herd of swine nearby, I took advantage of my good fortune and quickly locked her up and sprinkled her with holy water. Now it was time to put Little Mister in his car seat so we could get a move on. Well. He was peacefully sleeping and had no intention of peacefully waking up. HE WAS THE HERD OF SWINE.

He started wailing as I put him in the car which unfortunately clued in my cat that EVERYONE MUST DIE so she also starts up with her YYRROOOOOOOWWWWLLLLs. I jump in the car and start singing “JESUS LOVES ME” at the top of my lungs and praying that the moving vehicle would lull Little Mister back to sleep. Thank the Lord- my prayer was answered!

We finally made it to the vet and thankfully did not have long to wait before the vet called us back. (A really sweet vet who had just moved here 3 weeks ago, so she was not one of the Turd Heads.) I warned her about my cat and offered her my crucifix, but she wisely let me handle Little Beezelbub while she gently felt her tummy and listened to her heart.

Vet: “Oh, how sweet- she’s purring.” *pause* “And growling.”

The appointment didn’t take too long, but it was long enough for Little Mister to realize he was no longer in a moving vehicle AND WHY IS THERE NO BOOBY IN MY MOUTH??

I quickly wrangle the both of them back in the car and started heading home, but in a moment of sleep deprived lunacy, decide that since the vet is so close to the Post Office, I should probably stop by and quickly get the mail, especially since we are expecting a box. I get my mail and see there is no notice that we have any boxes, which is just as well since I don’t know how much longer I have before all hell breaks loose. As I’m leaving, a man I have never met before calls me from behind the counter and says, “Wait! We have some boxes for you. A LOT of boxes. Let me get a dolly and wheel them out to you.”

REALLY????

We had 3 HUGE boxes and 5 smaller boxes to load Jenga style in my car as Little Mister starts crying again. The strange man tries making small talk about babies and I was biting my tongue so hard so I wouldn’t yell, “SHUT IT, STRANGE MAN OR I WILL SIC MY DEMONIC CAT ON YOU!”

We are finally on the road home and I’m hoping beyond hope that there are no flashing lights and sirens behind me because, thanks to our loot, I cannot see anything out of my rear view window. And then Little Mister chimes in. WAAAAAAAAAAAH! And then Little Girl starts harmonizing, “YYYRRROOOOWWWWWWL!!!” So I just say, to heck with it and join them in the chorus. WHHHYYYY MEEE?????

I got them in the house which instantly calmed my cat but had no effect on Little Mister, so I plopped him on the bed and nursed him to sleep. Blissful sleep. How I miss thee.

Once he was asleep, I got the boxes out of the car and started opening them. It was like Christmas! Q-Tip brand q-tips! Bounty brand paper towels! A new book! A new food scale! WAIT. What was that one? OH CRAP. That must be the Christmas gift Big Mister was telling me he bought for me when he said, “DO NOT open a box from Best Buy that is addressed to me!” and now I JUST RUINED CHRISTMAS.

Actual reaction when Big Mister saw the open box:

Mr: Why did you open it?? It was addressed to me! YOU ARE A CHRISTMAS RUINER! 


Me: YYYYRRRROOOOOOWWWWLLLLL!

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