Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Running on Fumes

The Mommies are officially at their breaking point. Whatever we thought was hard in the hospital was child's play compared to what we are doing right now.  In the hospital we had a big room with everything we needed,  that someone else cleaned, food brought to us, a team to coach us, and free on-site kid centered entertainment.  Now?

Well, now sort of looks like this...

We are back "home" which should be the time when we're trying to cement all this stuff and get a routine, but it's been kind of a shit show. Our house is still under construction so when we walked in from the airport, 3 guys were working, including the guy doing the clean up of the living room.  We dumped our bags in the bedroom that is completely packed with stuff from the rest of the house and hung out in the backyard with the dog until it was time to do snack. We had to leave because we had no table or chairs to sit at and no food in the house.  We hung out on our local strip for an hour or two and Simon had an awesome snack at our local bakery. A few hours later, we went to a very sweet Christmas party where Simon ate like a champ. So far so good.  Overwhelmed by our house situation, but eating seeming to go okay.

We were supposed to go to my Mom's house for Christmas morning (this morning) but they all had a nasty cold that we wanted no part of so we went to another Christmas morning soiree for breakfast.  Simon's eating was kind of a disaster but we had a really sweet time with our friends.  A few hours later, we left that party to go to *another* party because we can't really be home (and because we have amazing framily that we wanted to see).

This party is where we started to come completely unglued.  Well, I did anyway.  About 5 minutes after arriving at the party, Laura realized that none of the delicious food available were Simon's preferred foods or easy enough for him to eat to have successful meal, so she asked me to go home (about a 10 minute drive each way) to get a box of mac and cheese and our copy of Monsters University.

On my way, I decided that since they were "on the clock" to get a meal done in a certain amount of time, it would make sense to stop at Walgreens 5 blocks from our friend's house to pick up microwavable Mac and Cheese rather than drive all the way home to get regular Mac and Cheese.

Well, apparently Walgreens on High Street is THE place to be on Christmas Day and there were at least 15 people in line.  I willed myself not to have a stroke waiting in line, feeling the ticking of the "meal" clock in the back of my head. Twenty minutes later I got out with stuff that would cook in three and a half minutes (Monsters, Inc no less!) and  feeling very proud of myself for my creative problem solving.

When I walked in with my spoils, Laura looked like she could kill me with her bare hands.  Simon apparently had a hard time eating the kind I bought and she had been using getting to watch Monsters University as an incentive to get him to finish.  I needed to get BACK in the car and go home to get OUR mac and cheese and the movie.

I managed to not kill anyone on the drive but I did let out such a primal scream in the car that I actually sort of startled myself.  I ran into the house and realized that the movie was packed in one of 4 suitcases sitting on our back porch. I  dragged them all in and started looking where I thought it might be.  After frantically digging for a few fruitless minutes, I started have a complete and total temper tantrum.  I literally started tearing the bags open and dumping everything on the bed until there was a huge mound of toys and clothes and books and shoes on the bed.  

Ten minutes later...still no movie.

I let out another scream of frustration and then realized that the door was open and that someone might realistically call the cops.  I pulled it together enough to text our friends to put water on to boil and  jumped back in the car.  When I got there, Laura and I had some choice words when she realized I didn't have the movie and I noticed the water wasn't boiling (not enough time at that point to make it so they turned the water off).  I stormed out and locked myself in the downstairs bedroom and had a good cry, unable to really figure out how else to handle this level of frustration.

Our friends did a great job affirming how goddamn hard this all looked and Laura and I cooled down enough to a civil conversation about 10 minutes later.  We made the freaking noodles and he did a great job when he ate it at snack.  We had more family over for dinner (Chinese food, as per the Jewish tradition) and he scarfed his food down pretty easily.  He's basically trying to torture us.  One good meal, one awful meal.  Just trying to keep us right on the edge.  Actually, I feel so much for the little guy.  If we're about to lose it, I can only imagine how he's feeling.

We dug out our kitchen table and enough chairs to sit in our dining room. Simon's godmothers are taking him for tomorrow afternoon and we're going to try to use the last of the spa treatments Laura still has from winning Mother of the Year at the Claremont Spa 2 years ago.  My Mom is coming tomorrow night and we're going to get date night for the first time in a month.  I'm voting for a movie since I'm not sure I'd be able to put a sentence together.

Laura, as you might imagine, is just as fried, if not more so since she has to do direct combat with Simon 6 times a day.  It's just...well, it just sucks.  It will be worth it in the long run, if it doesn't kill us. I'm just trying to remember that this disruption and chaos and stress is immediate but temporary.  I bet in a week this will feel like a distant memory.  That's what I'm counting on to make it through the week. 

2 comments:

Ellen Abrams said...

Oh my. I can't really imagine what you all are going through. So freakin intense. I wish I could say something that would be remarkably compassionate and empathic and perhaps even helpful, but all I can think is how fried your nervous systems are and how tired you both must be.
We don't know each other, but I often think of you and send my love and wishes for ease and peace and health. For all of you.

Ellen Abrams said...

Oh my. I can't really imagine what you all are going through. So freakin intense. I wish I could say something that would be remarkably compassionate and empathic and perhaps even helpful, but all I can think is how fried your nervous systems are and how tired you both must be.
We don't know each other, but I often think of you and send my love and wishes for ease and peace and health. For all of you.