If My Life Were A Movie.... Would It Be A Comic Tragedy?... And, If So, Is That Even Something People Want To Watch?

There is this blog I read, it is a beautiful fantasy. I daydream about that life and wish it were mine. It feels so serene and creative and her husband knows how to make baby quilts. They have time to make slow cooked Sunday dinners and brunches. She has an actual crafting studio. I'm not sure I'd go so far as to say I envy her, since I know it's a romanticized snap shot, as much as I'd say I want to be her when I grow up. Except it's too late for that... I'm pretty sure I'm older.

Anyway, as I reflect on the appeal of her blog it often gets me laughing. Because if that's why I read her... why would anyone want to stop in here and read this? I mean really? You'd have to be some kind of crazy to come here and start daydreaming about wanting a piece of this action. I think my blog (my life?!) must have the opposite effect. I'm like the poster girl for worst possible scenario. (Except my kids of course)

Well, yesterday, was a rough day. I was really feeling it... all of it. And I was tired and kind of shutting down and just trying to make it through the day. Some days I cry on the phone with Mr F and say I want my life back... a life when I could actually enjoy my children and the small little moments of wonderfulness... instead I'm just so tired and overwhelmed that I quite literally go to bed urging myself to try and get up in the morning and make it through. One day at a time. That's what it's come to. And it sucks.

I give the girls baths every other night. Last night was not a bath night, so after we had finished dinner the girls were dancing to Dancing with The Stars (which I Tivo and dish out in 20 minute pre-bed increments). Things were going well. I was thinking how I wished I could video it for you all. And then... boom... things were different. Suddenly Baby was on the ground screaming. And gushing blood. It was her mouth so I didn't freak out too much... mouths are extra bleedy you know. But she was not acting normally (kind of a naturally rough and tumble shake it off kind of gal). She was hysterical beyond hysterical. It took me a while to figure out that she had bitten clear through her lip. I iced it and gave her tylenol (don't worry it was generic... being cheap has it's rewards). I called Mr F and debated the seriousness. It was really hard to say, since as it turns out watching Grey's Anatomy is not actually the equivalent of attending an accredited medical school. It's a moist membrane so it's more likely to heal... but she bit through in such a way as to kind of sever a flap of lip... not good. I couldn't decide if it required stitches or if because it's a lip they'd just let it go.

After awhile I decided the flap was pretty deep and maybe it did need to be checked on. I mean she is three and it's not like she isn't going to be messing with it... what if it gets infected? So we loaded up and went to the ER. Then we waited. And waited. And waited. After three hours (10 PM now) I went back to the desk and asked if they knew how much longer? Baby wasn't upset anymore and were they going to do anything anyway? What if I wait for 4 hours, end up owing 400 bucks, and they just send us on our way? Well of course they couldn't help me. I told them "Look I know you can't tell me if I should stay or go but what if I said this 'I'm thinking of going home, you tell me absolutely not if that's what you think.'" That kind of made them nervous but they understood and did want to help. So they brought a nurse out and she said "I'd stay." And so I did.

Another hour later the doctor comes in and Baby is wrapped in a sheet. Two more men with gloves come in and we hold her down. The doctor sticthes her lip WITHOUT ANY KIND OF ANESTHETIC.

Baby now hates me. HATES ME. She's completely traumatized... and I'm thinking any chance of getting her to cooperate at the dentist next month is nil. And I don't blame her. The last time people with scrubs and gloves came near her they actually hooked her like a fish. She was screaming and shaking for quite awhile after that. Then she started slapping me in the face. Again, I didn't blame her. It broke my heart. She felt violated and unprotected. And I helped them do it. Thank God they are dissolvable and we don't have to go back to have them pulled out. Good God... I can't even imagine.

We got home and I realized I still had all the dinner dishes to clean up... goody... I love my life. Kid still needed dessert (she is a stickler for her routine) and to get ready for bed. After all that I got Baby some more tylenol and tried to put her to sleep. She couldn't sleep and I nestled her on the couch with Max & Ruby hoping she'd drift off. It was now past midnight and I still had to get up early the next morning to watch the baby... too late to call and cancel... and, honestly, with more medical bills in route I need the money. I grabbed some blankets to make myself a bed on the floor... when.... something wet and cold hit my legs. I finally found the blanket. So one more load of wash, and while I walked away from the laundry room, I just started laughing. Because, of course, after such a long and hard day with no end in sight... I would try and rest only to wrap myself up in a cold pee soaked blanket.

Of course.

What have you got for me today, Life? (something tells me not a good workout and a full night's sleep.)