Do You Even See Me?

I’m sitting here, it’s barely 8AM, and I’ve been awake for over 4 hours already.  Our kiddo has been having frequent wake ups, which I attribute to our turn and burn Seattle trip.  And I am fucking exhausted.  Her last wakeup at 3:45AM the husband got up to soothe her, but after about 30 minutes of her crying for momma and boo boo, he relented and she came running into our bedroom.  And yet, in a middle of the night parenting conversation, tells me he doesn’t want her to be nursing all the time.  Um, OK.  You let her come nurse because you couldn’t get her back to sleep…so do you not want her to nurse at all, or only when it’s convenient for you?  Do you even see my exhaustion?  Do you even see that I’m completely out of gas?

I’m the kind of exhausted where you feel drunk without the alcohol induced euphoria.  Everything feels woozy.  I feel sick to my stomach.  I tried to get her back to sleep around 5:30, when the hubs left for the gym, but she only slept for about 45 minutes.  Momma did not sleep.  Laid in bed with that tired wired feeling where you are too amped up to get any shut eye.

The day trudges on and gives zero fucks about my tiredness.  I discovered yesterday that our dog has blood in his piss, so I have a vet appointment at 9AM.  At 1PM, I have a 2 hour appointment for paperwork and other stuff related to my new job.  Dinner needs to get made because the toddler probably wants to eat.  The house really needs to be cleaned but that ain’t happening anytime soon.  I’m trying to find backup childcare for V because my husband told me 2 days ago that he plans to head to the Netherlands next week for work.  Monday night.  Thanks for leaving me alone for my first week on a new job.  I want to find someone in case she is sick or needs to come home from daycare, because I do not want to have to leave early during the day from my new job.  I want to scream at him, “Do you even realize all that I’ll have to do on my own while you are halfway around the fucking world?!?”  The answer, of course, is no.

He doesn’t see that I’ve quit asking for a date night, because I’m tired of telling him that it’s important that we have 1-1 time together for our relationship.  He doesn’t see that I’ve quit asking to go to couples therapy because it obviously isn’t a priority for him.  He doesn’t even see that I’ve stopped asking to have weekly discussions on finances and parenting because I’m the only one to initiate and I’m sick of bringing it up.  He doesn’t see that I have no energy or desire to fuck him at all.  He doesn’t see how tired I am of asking and asking for him to help me with things around the house that I’ve decided it’s a waste of my breath and precious energy.  He doesn’t see the imposition he puts upon me when he decides last minute to travel for business.  He doesn’t see all that I do.  Nor does he appreciate it either.  He doesn’t see that not only am I running on fumes, that our relationship is running on fumes too.

He doesn’t even see.  He doesn’t even see me.  At all.

Having My Best Week Ever (not true!)

You remember that VH1 show, Best Week Ever?!?  By referencing that show, does it show my age?  Ah, well, hell….let me tell you the week I’ve just had.

Last Thursday – Sunday:  We have had a trip planned to LA for several months so of course I get sick right before we fly out.  Thanks for sharing your germs from daycare kiddo!

Monday:  Work from home because I’m feeling like absolute crap and guessing my coworkers will be happy that I’m not going in to the office to “share” this with them.  Went to doctor and confirmed that I have upper respiratory infection and because I’m still nursing, there’s not really anything I can take unless I want to dry up my supply.  Bonus/plus side?  My doctor was pretty hawt.

Monday Night:  Husband tells me that his work trip, which was supposed to be a day trip on Tuesday will now last until Friday.  Wake up in the middle of the night and I feel a lump in my boob.  Don’t give it much thought as I roll over and go back to bed.

Tuesday Morning:  Work from home again because I’m still not feeling great/hacking all the time AND am pretty sure now that I’ve got my second case of mastitis.  My right boob is throbbing anytime I move around.  I’ve been trying to hand express to get the milk out, and also put moist heat on it, but not really helping much.  FML.

Tuesday at 11AM:  Jump on a “catch up call” with my coworker, boss, and director to find out that the latest reorg puts me, my coworker, my director, and about 10 other people of our 25 person team out of jobs.  I was expecting this, but there’s something to be said for hearing someone tell you “Congratulations – you’re getting laid off/let go/bye Felicia!”  We were told our last day would be 2/29/2016…a day that occurs once every four years.  What a special occasion!

Tuesday at noon:  Mastitis is confirmed with slight fever and boob that is all red and inflamed.  Call dr. to get prescription for antibiotic since I’ve been here before…thanks to my friend Angela for that suggestion because I’d have probably waited until I felt like complete and total shit, requiring a middle-of-the-night ER visit.  Add finding new daycare to the to-do list because of massive issues.

Tuesday evening:  Talk to husband and have total meltdown on the phone, complete with ugly crying, repeating “I can’t adult any more today”.

Wednesday morning:  Still at home, took a sick day because I need to rest AND because I no longer give two shits about my (soon-to-be-eliminated) job.  My idea of “relaxing”?  Cleaning up my shit sty of a house.  Relaxing fail.

Thursday:  Finally go in to work and virtually no one in our department is there.  I get it, with the happenings of this week, but we have 5 months until our last day…it’s a little early to start checking out everyone, isn’t it?  Leave work early myself to enroll daughter in new daycare.  Go to pick her up from daycare that we are about to fire and the ladies ask me, “Did you not bring any food for Viv?”  Um, what?!?  You didn’t feed her all day then and I see hardly any milk has been drank.  Oh even better – they fed her food that we didn’t authorize, and they sound unsure of what they fed her.  Let’s just hope she doesn’t have allergies to anything because I don’t know WTF she ate.   Please, please, PLEASE dear God do not let me lose my shit.  If I end up in jail, it will be a solid 24 hours before the husband can bail me out.

Friday:  Inform daycare that we are pulling our daughter from them.  Best part?  When I pick her up a few hours later after working a short day, they even fuck up packing up her supplies.  I was missing two bottles full of milk THAT THEY DIDN’T FEED HER.  Husband had to stop on his way home after his flight landed.

Friday Night:  Drank a beer and listened to my husband tell me all about his wild night during his business trip.  I got to hear how they were out until 3AM, their dinner bill for 9 people came to $1,400, they went for drinks later (that was $500 alone), and lastly, but surely not least, they ended up at a strip club.  I honestly don’t care about the strip club part, but way to regale me about your adventures when I’m stuck here, sick, and managing to (barely) hold down the fort.  I love my husband deeply but sometimes I want to slap his fucking face off.

Saturday Morning:  As I write this blog post, I’ve been awake since around 3:30AM.  I’ve fed and clothed the baby, changed 2 diapers, walked the dog, got showered, and am currently writing out my grocery list.  I went upstairs around 7AM with the baby, and the husband was still half asleep.  He’d been sleeping for about 11 hours, and when I mentioned that to him, he replies, “So?!?”  And then commented about how he was making up for my lack of sleep.  How thoughtful, huh?!?

Conclusion:  I need to buy a lottery ticket because my luck has got swing back up at some point, right?!?  It HAS to…that’s what I keep telling myself.