the wednesday blues

Note to self: Wednesdays suck.

Some people call Wednesday the “hump day.” I call it the “hell day.” Remember how I complained about all the poop and the crying last Wednesday ?

Well, this Wednesday was very similar, but infinitely worse since the poop of the day was old dog poop rather than human baby poop. We have an 11 year old Siberian Husky, Nikki. James gave Nikki his leftover steak last night. It was only a few bites, but apparently, that’s all it takes to give Nikki the runs. Not once, no. Twice.

And guess where she left this diarrhea? In the house.

And guess what comes out along with the shit? The piss.

And guess who was the only one home to clean it up? Me.

Hell, I had to restock our cleaning products just to finish cleaning up the first mess.

But, like last Wednesday, the poop wasn’t the worst part of my day.

Giovanna needs a passport because we want to take a vacation. Somewhere fun. Somewhere that requires a passport. As in, out of the country. And when a minor applies for a passport, both parents need to be present in order to verify the minor’s identity.

After doing laundry, cleaning up poop, changing diapers, getting both myself and Giovanna dressed and presentable, we headed across the bridge to downtown Bellevue. There is a passport acceptance facility conveniently located across the street from James’ work. Perfect. Or so I thought.

Giovanna cried. I stopped the car to calm her down. I put her back in her car seat. Giovanna cried. Repeat. Repeat. The car was getting very cold. I knew James was waiting, so I put her back in the car seat and drove. Giovanna cried. Giovanna screamed. By the time we got there, her poor little head was drenched in sweat and James couldn’t wait in the mile-long line because he had a meeting. And he had meetings for the rest of the day. Mission aborted. Vacation aborted. No one is happy. Not me. Not James. Not Giovanna. I nurse Giovanna in the car. We leave. She cries. I cry. We stop. We nurse. We leave. She cries. I cry. I take a detour to Target to buy cleaning supplies. Giovanna calmly sits in her sling, happy being close to mom. We leave. Giovanna is calm. For a minute. Giovanna cries. The sky is pouring rain. Traffic. Traffic. Giovanna screams. Traffic. We arrive home. More doggy diarrhea.

Did I mention that I haven’t slept for longer than 2 hours in a row since January? Did I mention that life’s little inconveniences seem 1000 times worse when you are sleep deprived? Did I mention that I do NOT cry easily and I cried today?

I’m not complaining, really. But I just want the world to know that it’s not easy being a mommy. Then again, the most rewarding things in life usually come with a high price. And if I didn’t love my baby so much, I wouldn’t HATE MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE listening to her cry. And scream.

But it’s all good. Because these are the kids I get to cuddle with and the cheeks I get to kiss. (Pictures taken yesterday.)

If you or someone you know once had a child who cried screamed in the car, please reassure me that they weren’t psychologically damaged and grew up to be happy, healthy kids who love their mom. Thanks in advance.


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