Scram Thursday, and take Friday with you
Friday, March 5, 2010 at 11:13PM So, I was in a mood. Already. And really trying to fight it. Having been diagnosed with depression in my late teens/early 20s, this is something I knew I wanted to keep an eye on when I got pregnant and post-partum. In no way do I think I'm getting depressed, but I'm just being careful and so this mood had to go.
And then Thursday happened. But let's back up to Wednesday.
Wednesday I get a picture message from the hubby: Buster has puked up something bright lime green. Neither of us can figure out what he ingested that is causing him to puke up this color, but he seems fine - his normal happy, puppy self, so we weren't not too worried. (We finally figure out it was the stuffing from one of his dog beds. Mmm, yummy.)
But then he puked more. And again. And just tiny bit more Thursday morning. Great. So lots of cleaning up there.
Work on Thursday was annoying as well, but in ways that aren't worth going into because they're only annoying to me. In addition, I tried to get new remote entry key fobs for my car because mine wasn't working and the hubby misplaced his... yeah, but I couldn't because the transponder seems to be broken. So tack that on to the necessary repairs for my car. We're going to end up paying half of what a semester at Columbia costs.
So after work I head home, ready to quick change and grab Buster and head over to puppy class (agenda: leash walking!). Instead, I come home to a hallway full of diarrhea. (Sorry, but there's just no good way to lead into that.) Now it was Oreo's turn to be sick. So the hubby and I scramble to clean up and get to puppy class (only five minutes late). Buster does a wonderful job of appearing only semi-incorrigible and we head home... to face more diarrhea. We clean up, go out to dinner, make a quick trip to Target, and come home... to puke. Now Oreo is puking. Repeatedly. And continues to gag and dry-heave and spit up white foam until around 11pm. Every time the hubby cleaned up, she would puke somewhere else.
I Googled the hell out of "dog diarrhea puking white foam" and called the vet's emergency number. They said it sounded like she got into something she shouldn't have and that we could bring her in if we wanted to. We opted not to, so instead I sat and just watched her to make sure she was breathing and not seizing.
Eventually we went to bed but after an hour, Oreo woke us up to go out - so the hubby took her out. After that, she seemed fine but we were beyond beat.
This morning both Oreo and Buster were happy, cheery, tail wagging, treat-eating puppers. Buster was scampering around the kitchen with a rawhide and toy in his mouth (at once) while he also batted around a tennis ball. (What can I say, he's a multi-tasking genius pupper.) Oreo went out, had her morning treat, and happily retreated for her first nap of the morning.
It was like someone said, "Oh, are you worried about managing a baby? Here, let's give you a little test run so you can see how you make it through." Yeah, thanks, you can take your test run and shove it.
And Friday? Well, Friday was going to be better, right? And I suppose it was since I haven't cleaned up puke or diarrhea. It's a pretty low bar for what makes a good day, but I guess it's something. I suppose I'd rather deal with students asking inane questions and a chair that makes my ass go numb than clean up puke.
And if you want a bit more of what annoyed me this week, check out my latest at WeAreTheRealDeal: I'm Pregnant, I'm Fat - and I'm Okay.
For now, I'm looking forward to Saturday. It's sonogram time, time to pick up the framed pictures from our wedding, and time to get some work done around the apartment (baby prep!) - all very good things, all happy-making things. So let's hang on to that. And the Oscars are on Sunday; can't wait to see what everyone is wearing. (It's honestly what I care about most about the awards these days since the awards themselves are mostly meaningless.)
So baby stuff, more baby stuff, and fashion stuff. That will make for two good days as Thursday and Friday fade away...
















