Our third trip to the pediatrician in five days has landed us the the diagnosis of a viral rash, to add to the cold and the ear infection.
Mia only screamed for six hours last night, which was a definite improvement from the twelve hours the night before.
I did finally manage to change my pants and even put on makeup as I looked like I hadn't slept in three days. Now I look like I haven't slept in three days and am wearing makeup. Am fairly sure I have brushed my teeth in the last 24 hours, but I wouldn't swear to it in court.
My kitchen is full of half-empty yogurt containers and hard, dried chunks of cheddar cheese. There are cheerios and goldfish crushed into the carpet in every room in the house. Mia keeps telling me that she is hungry and then refusing to eat. Good thing that is not at all frustrating and that I am so well-rested that I have deep wells of patience upon which to draw.
I just paid our bills. It will be fun to see next month whether I sent the mortgage payment to the phone company or simply neglected to mail it at all and instead balled it up and bounced it off the ceiling in an effort to entertain Mia and stop the screaming for a few seconds.
I swear to god, if this whore of a virus and those goddamnedfucking molars don't stop torturing my kid but pronto I'm gonna, I'm gonna, well, cry probably, and I'm trying so so hard not to cry in front of the baby.