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Baby, Family, General, Health, Life, School

A case of the Mondays

02.03.10 | 2 Comments

Alternate title: In which I bitch and moan for several paragraphs instead of studying. Again.

First, a little background.

Overall Block I exams went alright but, as usual, less well than I had hoped. The quickness and the breadth of material, especially for immunology, got the better of me, and while I held it together fairly well (i.e., I only called my sister in tears once and threatened to quit via no more than four texts), by Friday I was sure that after turning in my micro test I would walk over one building and check myself in, either at Hermann for exhaustion/septic strep (I lost my voice during the week) or at the Harris County psych ward. Not to be dramatic or anything.

Friday night I ended up doing my post exams routine of cleaning and attempting to prepare ourselves for a nice weekend at home without staring at a couch full of laundry or a pile of dishes or lying around on dog-hair-carpet. Because that’s how we roll most days. (I’ve learned to let it go, superficially, until I have time to deal with it, but deep down it’s still on my hamster wheel of concerns.)

I was excited to retrieve Zoe, who was in excellent spirits after school. The evening was pleasant and uneventful, and we went to bed late, in my hopes of sleeping late.

Saturday, 7 AM: Zoe is awake, for good, and she wants to “watch a few shows”. I oblige and return to sleep; when she gets cranky, Joel sweeps her away so I can rest. I am grateful. A few minutes of light sleep later, I tire of hearing her protests and requests for me, and I stomp out grumpily, and we begin our day of nothing. Glorious nothing. We played play-doh, watched shows, napped, and generally enjoyed each other’s company. At 6 PM we ventured out on some errands: Goodwill donating, recycling, and groceries. Across from the recycling center was a Chick-Fil-A, and Zoe excitedly requested dinner there. It was delicious, and she loved playing on the playground with a rambunctious young chap called Ian, or Phillip, or Bill. NOT Kevin, NOT Steven, which he thought Zoe was saying, which she wasn’t. Target was a blast, and we saved 10% with coupons = bonus.

Sometime around 3 AM we were awakened by a Zoe in mild distress. I’m not sure how we knew, because she wasn’t making much noise. Joel figured out that she was lying on her back and pointing to her mouth, which was piled high with vomit. The poor baby. We cleaned her up, stripped the bed, decided she needed a full bath, did that, and got her all ready for bed again. Laundry was begun, and into clean sheets we went. Less than half an hour later, we repeated the whole thing, with the variation that the vomit landed almost entirely on my person, and the two of us took a shower. Putting our last set of sheets on the bed, we decided to put a few extra blankets below Zoe and to keep a pan by the bed.

She learned quickly, warning us when she would vomit in time to place the pan, keeping us updated with, “Here it comes… I have more… I’m almost done…” I was aching for her and so proud of her at the same time. And so it went throughout the night and next day. The laundry never ceased. Despite her illness, she remained in good spirits while awake, though mostly she slept. Family required status reports, particularly my squeamish-only-when-it-comes-to-vomit sister, whose fascination/repulsion necessitates description of the quantity and quality. This provided much comic relief to me, as did Zoe’s comments. After a Dora popsicle: “Hey! Pink throw up!” Apropos of nothing: “Mom? Throwing up is not fun.”

Sunday night went a little better, with evidence that whatever-it-was was moving down the GI tract. I’ll spare you the details except to say that the laundry.continued.all.night. The last incident for which I was present occurred at 5:30 AM before my alarm went off at 6 AM. Joel kept her at home on Monday, which I am so grateful he can do. I trudged off to school, embittered that my post-exam “relaxation” and “preparation for block 2” weekend was neither of those things, and I began yet another block completely exhausted. A bright spot in the day: Joel texted me with a Zoe quote that I will hover for you in order to protect her privacy somewhat. Hilarious.

Amidst the chaos, there were many moments like that, actually. She’s amazing. And we’ve learned some things, mostly that we should get a plastic sheet.

Now it’s Wednesday, and perhaps for the best, I have forgotten most of the things that inspired my irritation and grumbling and today’s post’s title. I do recall that I broke yet another backpack. And that I missed my morning bus by 30 seconds, thus missing my first class which turned out to be quite important, setting me behind before I even started. Dispersed throughout the day were various and sundry instigators, coming full circle with missing my evening bus, only after running for it like a total moron with my two bags of 70+ pounds of crap, arriving at the bus door only to remain unseen by the driver and amuse the other waiting bus patrons with my misfortune. And THEN I studied while waiting for the next one, putting away my materials when I expected it to arrive, only to wait an additional half hour because for some reason, it never came.

I know these things seem small. But in aggregate… wasting my time and feeling behind already and suffering a severe sleep and mental stamina deficit… It was a little much.

Plus I’m really over my commute.

Long story short, I’m quite difficult to live with. And I’m sorry about the preposition there. I know I have several balls in the air, none of which I’m prepared to let drop, though they have been pruned in the past year. I have to work on grace, and on the schedule and routine. One might say I am hell bent on implementing some consistency, ideally for the whole family, and at least for myself. I did order a new backpack, so instead of hauling around my pigpen in multiple bags like a hobo, I can run for the bus in a streamlined fashion.

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