26 Feb I Can’t Adult This Week…
I hold my hands up – this week has not gone to plan.
I bought one of those day planner thingies from Aldi so that I have my week on one page in front of me and had a huge organisational chuffy on.
This was Sunday.
3am Monday morning and Esme had a raging temperature.
I’d already been to the doctors twice the week before for the same reason and she didn’t have anything obviously wrong other than being a bit hot and mard.
Calpol administered and back to sleep.
She was really grumpy when we got up for the nursery/school run. I got to 8am and realised I hadn’t expressed any milk for her.
I dug out my pump and tried to express whilst dressing her – my milk was still asleep. I turned up my pump to maximum till my nipples looked like chewing gum being pulled off a pavement and managed to drag out an ounce.
I ran her down to nursery and made it back just in time for the school run and made my way to work.
I got to 11.30 in no time and realised I forgot my CBT appointment so have probably been discharged. I was warned it was a one strike and you’re out kinda gig.
Tuesday – Up with the baby in the night again with a temperature of 39. She had improved as we got ready for school and I feel awfully guilty saying it but I sent her to nursery because I needed the child free time.
I planned to exercise for an hour – that may sound selfish but exercising keeps me sane and I desperately needed to catch up on work.
It wasn’t to be and I was called to collect her as I was at the school. She was really unhappy when I collected her and after going back to the doctors with her, they told me she had a chest infection. I had to take her to the office where she slept on me for 2 hours while I worked.
Later on Niamh told me that she feels sad that I don’t play with her any more. Feel like I’m failing at life. She has pizza for tea again and I don’t have the energy to argue the virtues of a balanced tea.
Wednesday – No improvement in the Danner house. I go to work for a few hours then back home to attempt to tidy my house with the baby in the sling – This turned out to be a fruitless attempt at turd polishing and I have to give it up as a bad job.
Thursday – I have to miss my hospital induction for my peer support volunteering.
Esme isn’t eating or breastfeeding much and instead of expressing the day before, I just left it. Now I have mastitis and I’m going hot and cold and my left boob feels like a red hot potato. I’m annoyed with myself now because I know how to avoid this happening and I just haven’t found time. In a fever induced tantrum I email the service and resign from volunteering, feeling completely inept at juggling my balls.
I have an appointment at 6pm to get my roots done – I resolve to attend even if my manky boob is hanging by a smelly green thread. Having grey roots showing is like wearing a badge saying to the world “I’m old! I don’t take care of myself! Hellooo!”
Obviously my Bostik baby had to come with me too.
Cue 2 hours of crying, wriggling and general noise. She turned my cape around resulting in a red hair dye beard and covered the salon with smooshed up biscuit. She fed several times stopping to look around taking my boob with her.
I swear the girls in that hairdressers could identify my bosoms from a faceless line up.
My lovely hairdresser pointed out that I looked like I needed a holiday. If by a holiday she means a facelift and some valium, she would be spot on. Luckily, I’m a regular at Bijou and Esme has been causing chaos in the salon since April 2015.
So today…..I’m in the office! Alone! Well, child free anyway and catching up on a write-off week.
My little angel is better despite going on a full on medicine strike. Boobies are back to normal temperature and are back to semi empty carrier bag shape.
Positives to take away from this week.
The grey is concealed once more and I totally look 21 again.
I have a weekend ahead with no plans at all except a PT session with the hubs.
Apologies for the maudling post, I could have just posted a vague Facebook status about it but I don’t have time to inbox you.