Happy Mommy Appreciation Day!

Let's talk about where I've been for the past week. I've been at home, sick. I've been sick for over 3 weeks now. I got over a sinus infection only to catch a cold. Which I never really recovered from and then I started feeling flu-ish. So to sum up, I have been running on no sleep, with a fever of 103 or higher for 3 weeks.

Mommy = Tired.

Last weekend we had the dogs/heelys fiasco which prevented Tim from being any real help with baby relief since he was disabled. The two weeks before that, Tim was working an absurd amount of hours in order to transition his company from its old name to the new, far more stupider than the old name, name. So I haven't had an opportunity for relief from baby care to get some rest/get well AT ALL.

Everyone feel sorry for me? Yes? Good! Let's move on.

So yesterday I called Tim at work and proclaimed that he was not to bring work home, he was to plan on "Playing Mommy" this weekend so I can sleep and try to recuperate. He says "OK, no problem!" because he thinks all I do is sit home and eat bon-bons all day.

Ha ha ha.

Lately, Jackson has been in a high-maintenance mood. He doesn't want his swing, he doesn't want his play yard, he doesn't even want to hang out in a sling or Baby Bjorn. He wants to be held or snuggled, or held sitting up. So I will show up to the train station each night at 6 pm to pick Tim up, and exclaim something along the lines of, "Oh I'm so glad you're home! I'm exhausted and starving! I haven't eaten anything but a granola bar/a yogurt/a handful of peanuts from the jar of emergency peanuts we stash in the backseat all day! I've had to pee since 2:00! I need your help with the baby so I can fold laundry/do dishes/make bottles/clean the bathroom. And the dogs haven't been out all day." He gives me this look of exasperation that says something like "What the hell? YOU WERE HOME ALL DAY, WOMAN!" And then I rock him the "Don't even go there" sidewards glance. Sometimes when he is feeling particularly squirrely, he will say "Why didn't you walk the dogs?"

Like I have time to walk dogs. The dogs can pee after I pee. Priorities, please.

So last night I took some Ny-Quil and declared it Mommy Appreciation Weekend. I did dishes, made a batch of bottles and left the menfolk to make it on their own. As if he were in on the joke, Jackson started teething yesterday.

Ha ha ha.

All through the night, when I heard Jack fussing, I'd wake Tim to take care of it.

At 6 am, I woke Tim up to give Jackson a bottle. I ended up giving him the bottle so Tim could go walk the dogs. After he was done with that, I passed the baby back off to him and went back to sleep.

All day long, basically I alerted Tim when I heard the baby fussing (Tim has yet to develop the skill of "Mommy Sleeping", that half alert/half sleep state where you're technically resting but you can still hear the baby) and I slept. I woke up every now and again to take my own temperature (now down to 101!) and some more medicine (prescription cough syrup is FUN) and eat if the spirit moved me. I also assisted with a poopy diaper (I know, I'm too nice for my own good).

Around 3:30, I got up to get a drink, another dose of medicine, and maybe something to eat. Tim says, "If you're up, can you watch him for a few minutes? I haven't had anything to eat all day except a yogurt and I'm starving!"





Huh. Imagine that! But you were home doing nothing all day!


Ha ha ha.

I am pretty sure that I will never again be asked any of the following questions by my husband again:

What DID you do all day?
When do you think you'll want to go back to work?
Why didn't you get it done?
Why didn't you walk the dogs?
Why didn't you eat anything when you were home all day?

Also, I doubt the words "My wife doesn't work" will ever cross his lips or mind again. Oh I work, baby. Some days I work more and harder than you do, and I don't get to run away and hide in an office when the poop gets too stinky.

And on the rare occasion that I show up to pick him up from the train, dressed up, rocking fully done hair and a fully made-up face, asking to be taken out to dinner, he'd best take me. Now he knows just how much effort going from spit-up covered sweats to being a dressed up Hot Mom takes.

And now, my friends, I shall go back to bed.