This Entry (and my brain) Will Self Destruct In .03 Seconds.
6:15 p.m. - 2006-09-01
So, Ali now has whatever I've had for the past week. Waking in the middle of the night because the baby lying next to you is scalding hot is enough to scare a new mom to death, I'll tell you that.
Her fever peaked the other night (Monday? Tuesday? I can't keep up with days anymore...) at 102, and many doses of Tylenol and cool washcloths later, I feel like it's pretty much contained. Today it spiked to 100, but the doctor says that temps that high aren't at all uncommon in young children and "not to worry." Yeah, well tell that to the hysterical Mama who's giving a sponge-bath to her limp ten-month old at 2 a.m., okay?
She's feeling better than she has been, though, at least for the most part. There've been a couple of times today when she got so crabby I thought I might pull my hair out, but I kept reminding myself that she's just a baby, and that this is the first time in her life that she's felt this rotten. I'm just glad that she's still crawling and playing like she normally does. Anything less than the normal chaos of our days would mean that something was seriously wrong, you know? I've gotten so used to stepping over the mess that she pulls out that I hardly even notice it anymore. Until someone comes to the door, of course. Then I find myself falling all over myself to apologize for the terrible state my house is in, when what I really want to do is just say "FUCK IT. Come live here for a day if you don't like it."
Couple the baby's mess with the mess of trying to fit four years worth of accumulated crap into a bunch of boxes, and you've got one seriously crazy woman on your hands. Any time someone mentions "moving" or "September 25" or "the trailer" I start gasping and clutching my chest. Because Oh. My. GOD THERE IS NO WAY I'M GOING TO BE READY BY THEN. Shouldn't people get at least six months to get out of a place they've lived in this long?