Who had a crazy week?
This house!
Crazy terri-bad at work.
Medically nauseating at home.
Frustrating emotionally and physically.
They do always say though, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. You may want to kill yourself, but somehow remain strong enough to resist the urge somehow. And, by George, and with Bob as my witness, I am not sure how I resisted.
This year started off with a stress induced Mommy purge. I sprinted around the house attempting to clean up all the dirty from 2011 that still lingered (and consequently still does). All I managed to do was wrangle up all the Christmas toys strewn about the downstairs. In this course of events I broke my foot. I broke my foot in 3 places by dropping the wooden base of a doll stand on my foot, because like a giant idiot I thought that it was one piece. Lesson learned.
I did not decide to go to the doctor until Tuesday though. I was a little embarrassed and really did think that it was only bruised. I was wrong, my doctor was surprised I was walking. And worst of all, Justin was right.
Wednesday, well it didn't bring anything better. Work infuriated me. We won't get into that bit, mostly because I might throw a tantrum, a good old fashioned roll up in a ball and kick and scream while I roll around crying on the floor tantrum, because it was that bad. I came home to a sick husband, by the way, he led me to believe that he was dying the way he was carrying on. Oh yeah, I forgot the only thing all women can agree on, men are babies. He was "suffering" through the same cold that I had been experiencing for the past two weeks. So sick he had to go to the doctor, and too sick to go into work the next day, we took a note to his work for his (censored) boss. I thought that this trip would last seconds because naturally I am a girl and we think everything is easy. 30 mins, 2 calls to his unanswered cell, 3 texts, and finally a call to his work that sounded something like this: "Thank you for calling Where he Works. Please Hold." "Nope, won't be holding, you tell Justin that if he is so sick and still needs a ride home, he will come out to said family waiting for him for the past 30 mins now, or he will walk his ass home to his stuff on the front yard."
Now, near in mind that I had been at work since 7:15 am, and it was now nearly 10 PM, and I had had nothing to eat or drink. So essentially his act of stupidity poked the hibernating bear. He sulked out to the car to tell me that his old boss had stopped by, as if that was a good excuse to ignore his calls, texts, and manners that I am trying so hard to re-raise him with.
Thursday. Let me start by saying that I ran out of Vicodin on Thursday. Work, see above and shake your head. And I came home to an injured Gunnar. Final Radiology read concludes that he has a tiny buckle fracture at the top of his fibula. They consulted with his pediatrician and orthopedic and decided the best course of action for him is to do nothing. Restraining him and trying to make his stay still would inadvertently do him more bad than good, and since he is walking around fine, and they thought that it was originally a deep bone bruise, they are not going to do anything.
Friday. I came home, cried, watched some Grey's, cried some more, and was so wound up from the day that I didn't go to sleep until this morning.
Saturday. We had a "Come to Jesus" at work. I came home and took a nap, because I was that exhausted.
So all in all, I want to quit my job, put myself in a padded room, and isolate myself. This week was a Bania record of bad with 3 trips to the Urgent Care, 4 broken bones, a sick daddy and a really tired Mommy.
At least 3/4 kids are well, no one was seriously injured, I am not sick, and we are 6 hours and 50 minutes away from the start of the new week.
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