Invisible Disease Friday

I really needed a day off.

As each day went on, I had been getting more and more worn out, more and more unable to get up when laying down, more and more exhausted. So a couple of days ago, I decided that since one class was done and the other two were doing finals reviews, I was going to take today off, sleep in, be a lazy bum and not take care of anyone but myself.

Instead, I got stuck carrying the baby down the full flight of stairs that lead to my front door to take her to daycare so I could have a day alone. I got stuck going to campus and taking care of some missing equipment out of my drawer in chem lab. And out of the goodness of my heart I made a lunch run for Lord Imp, who is feeling crappy and I knew was going to need to eat.

And now all I want to do is cry. Because I don’t get to take care of myself and only myself.

All I wanted was 36 hours of not doing anything – not getting out of bed, not cooking, not cleaning, not doing homework and not taking the baby. Instead, I got out of bed at 7:30, struggled down the stairs, took care of the baby for a bit, took a nap, woke up and struggled up and down the stairs several times, struggled to get the baby changed and dressed, struggled to get her in the car seat and prayed as I teetered precariously down the stairs carrying her to the car. In the middle of all that, I had to deal with listening to Lord Imp bitching about how tired he was and how he didn’t feel well.

I really wanted to scream this, but didn’t. So I’m going to scream it here:


I am tired ALL THE TIME. It is not uncommon for me to wake up and legitimately wonder if I have the physical capability of getting out of bed. It is not uncommon for me to not be able to move without an exceeding amount of effort. It is not uncommon for me to fall asleep in classes or want to take naps.

BUT I STILL GET STUFF DONE, and with minimal complaining.

I still do laundry. I still do dishes. I still make the baby breakfast and get her dressed. I still vacuum. I still go to class. I still study. I still do research. I still go to work.

EVERY SINGLE DAY. Despite feeling the same way you are (minus the congestion). My head is ALWAYS foggy. I am ALWAYS tired. And I am ALWAYS woozy.


Don’t EVER mistake the fact that I am still plugging on without complaint as that I am fine. I AM NOT FINE. I am only moving because my options are to keep going or to die.

And I would kinda like to keep going.

The sad truth is, I’ve been taking spoons from the next day for a while now. And today I woke up with very few of them. And instead of trying to regain my spoon count, I spent today spending them.

I sent a copy of the Spoon Theory to Lord Imp. I hope he finally gets it.



The Bowels of Mediocrity

I know I’m not the only parent out there who sees some cute little art project and goes “awwww that’s soooo cute, imma try that!” You know what projects I’m talking about, those adorable ones involving painting infant digits and transposing them onto various media. These Pinterest Martha Stewarts come up with some awesomesauce idea, try it out, and then post it out there for the whole world to see.

Aww, that’s soooo cute, imma try that!

Well, after an attempt at getting Baby Imp’s little hands onto some Christmas ornaments for the grandparents, I have only one thing to say right now:

Fuck you Pinterest moms.

That’s right, you heard me. Fuck you all. Fuck you and your perfect little art projects that go perfectly and your expensive cameras that photograph it perfectly. Fuck your well-behaved, grass-fed angelic children and the horse they rode in on – which would be you.

In the words of Lily Allen: Fuck you very, very much.

(Seriously, go listen to the song. I fucking love me some Lily Allen. ❤ We’ll just forget for a moment that I’m the one being hateful and distasteful…)

If there is one site on planet Earth that can make a mother feel like a complete and utter failure, it’s Pinterest. In the sea of perfect mothers, I’m one of the bottom-feeders. I can’t get my food to look pretty, my living room is super uncoordinated and my Christmas tree could give Charlie Brown a run for his money.

Merry fucking Christmas

I can’t get my child to not eat paint and I sure as hell can’t get her to sit still for the mere 10 seconds it would take me to get her damn handprint on an sphere of cheap plastic. Please, for the love of God, tell me what it is you all do to make it so that your children sit still long enough to make a perfectly-designed art project. What are you feeding these kids? Do I need to invest in some Ritalin?

I can’t even blog without my daughter keyboard mashing. She has somehow keyboard mashed so that I can’t cursor in to the middle of a paragraph and add stuff without it typing over things. The good news is, this experience has taught me exactly what the key labeled “insert” actually does.

But I digress.

While Pinterest moms can suck my left tit, I did find comfort in Craft Fail. It’s nice to see I’m not the only mom who epic fails at this sort of stuff:

That looks JUST LIKE MINE!

There’s even a cute little blurb along with every craft fail, go check it out. It made me smile in the midst of all my anger.

All I was trying to do was make some nice Christmas presents for the grandparents and great grandparents that didn’t look like they were a mess, and all I got was a messy baby and a chance to revisit my softball-playing days by throwing the ornament across the kitchen.

I hope all you Pinterest moms have ten thousand epic fails for every awesome thing you post. I send the demon of craft fails upon you all.

In the meantime, I’m going to go eat homemade chocolate nuts. Because while my cooking always looks like dinosaur poop, it at least tastes delicious.

A big shout-out goes to Lord Imp, who got the baby bathed and diapered for me while I was being angry. He’s awesome.

Allow Me to Rage For a Minute

Who the HELL thinks it’s a good idea to bring a kid to daycare with a fever? Much less a kid who has been running a fever of 102 degrees and has a RASH?

Yes folks, someone brought in their kid with a likely case of MEASLES to my mother-in-law’s daycare.

Lord Imp has been exposed. He’s not allowed home until I get the green light from the immunologist. Fortunately, he’s had both rounds of MMR so he should be good to go, but I want a doctor’s OK first.

It’s not only me I have to worry about in this case, but Baby Imp as well. At 4 months, she’s far too young to receive her MMR vaccine. Thankfully, all the other kids in the daycare are all over the age of 2 and are all up-to-date on their shots, and should be immune to it.

But my mother-in-law has two grandchildren in the 4-month range. And unfortunately, she won’t be seeing Baby Imp for a couple of weeks while I ensure that there will be no outbreak as a result of this.

I don’t fault the mother for the child not being vaccinated, he only just turned one, had his first round of MMR done but not the second. Since there has to be at least 28 days between shots, it’s perfectly logical that he hasn’t seen round 2 yet. But I do fault her for thinking it was a good idea to bring a child with a FEVER to daycare. Regardless of what’s causing the fever, that’s not something to mess with.

Part of me feels bad for being as angry about this as I am. She had no idea what was going on until she brought the baby to the doctor. But given recent events, I am LIVID that I may not be able to see my husband this weekend, LIVID that he may not be able to see his daughter and LIVID that I may have to miss work this weekend because he’s in quarantine because I CANNOT be around someone who has been exposed to measles if they have no immunity. I am LIVID that someone thought that a fever high enough to be classified as measles was no big deal (according to the American Academy of Pediatric Dentistry, any fever over 102 – which is the low threshold for a measles diagnosis – should not be attributed to teething) and that it was okay to put them in daycare.

I was really hoping to avoid shouting that I have primary immune deficiency from a rooftop. Looks like I’m going to have to in order to keep stupid mistakes like this from happening. I feel like I need to put a big ol sign screaming “ANYTHING YOU CAN TRANSMIT TO LORD IMP YOU CAN TRANSMIT TO ME!! STAY AWAY IF UNWELL!!”

I really don’t want to live in a bubble. But it’s people like these making idiotic mistakes that make it so that I have to severely limit my life. And I don’t like that. Not one bit.