Down With the Sickness


Last night was Jennie Wednesday, which means that my sister and friend came over and we watched the premiere of America’s Next Top Model (yes, I watch, and yes, I love). We had Shannon dye our hair, ate manicotti (YUM), and discovered that I have a urinary tract infection. Go meeeee! I started feeling like I had to pee an awful lot, then it hurt when I peed, and then it BLED when I peed. Score. It was 11:00 at night, past the hours of urgent care, and I wasn’t going to make a trip to the ER for this. So Shannon and I went down to the local grocery store to stock up on cranberry juice. I figured at the very least, being hydrated can’t be a negative point. So, cranberry juice and woe-is-me feelings for moi last night. And now? It’s off to urgent care to hope that they’ll give me some fast, hard drugs to make this thing leave me alone. Something that I can take that will make me all better, and hopefully not poison my breastfeeding infant, like the last time they tried to give me medicine there. GAH.

Off to pee in a cup…

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I don’t know why I have a headache, but I do. I woke up with it and it’s just sort of continued to set in and be a bother. It’s one of those foggy, I feel weird, I may be getting sick sort of headaches. Oh my GOD, I can’t handle being sick again. I am still getting over being sick from 3 weeks ago when Andrew brought the plague home. I’m too pregnant for this. Don’t the germs recognize this?! Psh, it’s really quite inconsiderate. I’m bringing a whole new person into this world for germs to crawl all over.

Dear Germs,

Give me a break while I gestate your new playground, will you?

XO, Jennie

Maybe I shouldn’t have started scouring the whole house yesterday. I went to Target, bought a bunch of cleaning supplies and a shiny new bucket, and went to work cleaning the baseboards, the doors, the stair railings, the blinds, the windows… I need the house to be dirt free for the new baby. Apparently, I have lost my damn mind. I mean, having the house super-fantastically clean will be nice, but the fact that I have to do it all might end up hurting more than it’s worth. If I get sick right now, I have nothing and no one to blame except my cleaning panic, and maybe Shannon. I saw her for five whole minutes the other day, and she was getting sick. That would be just my luck. Gah.

For now, I’m going to go upstairs, put Alaina down for her nap, then take a shower and hope that burns off some of the yuck that I’m feeling right now. Then my sister and I are going to lunch, and maybe she’ll hang around and make Valentines with Alaina and I. Yesterday I thought I would clean the whole house AND make Valentines with a toddler and glitter glue, because why? Because I am apparently super Jennie these days. Hahaha, aren’t I funny? Now all I REALLY want to do is sleep.

I’m nearing 31 weeks pregnant now, with so much to do that I can barely wrap my brain around the daunting list I’ve written out. It also doesn’t help that I keep thinking of things that need to be added to the list. You know, I think that it won’t hurt my feelings too badly to realize that while I would love to scour the stair rails before baby number two arrives, it’s really more important that I get that pedicure I keep fantasizing about. I mean, people are going to have to see my feet, and I don’t want that it’s winter, I’m pregnant, and I don’t remember what my feet even LOOK like thing going on. Because… eww. There are PLENTY of other less than savory things going on in a delivery room, I don’t need that ever so natural shade of I-stopped-caring nail polish to be one of them. Maybe it will make me feel more human and less aquatic mammalian. In any case, after nine months of gestation with one hell of a finale on the agenda, I think that (just maybe) I deserve it.

Especially after a string of recent events that makes me feel bitter, oh SO BITTER. Last weekend was Alaina’s second birthday party, which was mostly fun. The not so fun part was when I put Alaina down for her regular noon nap, before the party guests had arrived… well, all except the in-laws (dun dun dunnnn). I scheduled the party for noon, assuming people would be at least an hour or so late. Everyone was, except for my in-laws, who were right on time, and my sister-in-law and her boyfriend, who were damn near two hours late. Which, you know, was fine, considering that I had planned around all the late-comers. That is until I hear that mom-in-law and sis-in-law are having a shit-talking pow wow all hush-hush like in the room adjacent to the party. I’m upstairs, curling my hair and listening for an awake party girl, since she was due to wake up any minute. Why did she have us come if Alaina’s not even awake? You know? If it’s that big of a deal to be at your niece’s birthday party, don’t come. No big deal, because instead of enjoying your company, I was pissed at you. How can someone have the audacity to be almost TWO EFFING HOURS late to a party, and then think they have room to bitch? GAH. Thennnn mom-in-law comes upstairs to tell me that, you know, I should really wake up Alaina now because people are upset and saying that they’re going to have to leave soon. Which was a big fat lie. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell that woman that Laina is only two years old, she still really, really needs her nap, and she is a cranky devil child if I wake her up early. Then later that day, she let me know that I look so much cuter from the back than from the front. Wow. Thanks a BUNCH. If that woman gets any more tactful, I just don’t know what I’ll do with myself. Honestly, I’m not exactly exempt from having my foot in my mouth, but I don’t try to make people feel like crap about themselves. Ladies and gentlemen, Marie Barone is my mother-in-law.

Then? Andrew got sick. Closely followed by Alaina. For a minute, I thought I was going to get away without it, and then I would do some sort of goofy, triumphant I-got-a-flu-shot-aren’t-I-fabulous dance. So of course, I am now sick as a dog, praying I don’t get bronchitis because how much fun would THAT be?

To top off the best week ever, my car broke down today. It’s probably the starter. Wooooo.

Universe: 365168735139
Jennie: Goose Egg

Alaina and I spent most of yesterday hiding under the covers of my bed, reading books and watching TV and hoping that Mommy wouldn’t have to throw up again. I didn’t, and even managed to eat macaroni and cheese last night (what I’m going to consider a solid) without engaging my upchuck reflex. Go me!

I also started to clean my room, but when I tried to vacuum, the vacuum up and died. I have no idea what even happened — it started making an awful noise so I turned it off, and then a bunch of dirt and a couple of screws fell out of it. I am. So confused. For two reasons: first of all, I was vacuuming cracker crumbs from my beloved little one smooshing graham crackers into my carpet, not big chunks of black dirt. Secondly, I definitely was not vacuuming up copious amounts of screws. Which brings me to my conclusion: the vacuum is in serious trouble when it starts spitting out screws in an attempt to die. I asked Andrew to fix it last night, to which he replied that he would “Have a look at it”. And then of course, he didn’t. So now, I want a new vacuum for Christmas. Really, how sad and domesticated is that? Though I would give my right arm to have a good vacuum that I can use on the wood floors downstairs. My vacuum just kind of sends cheerios and little bits of whatever spinning wildly around the room, AWAY from the vacuum. Niiiiice. I have one of those Swiffervac thingamabobs, but you have to charge it, and then it dies partway through the downstairs. Or at least loses most of it’s power. I find that if I leave it plugged in all the time, it lasts longer. I can’t plug it in while it’s in the closet though, and if it’s not in the closet, I run the risk that Alaina will unplug it and I won’t know until I try to use the thing, and it laughs in my face. I need a REAL vacuum.

Today I need to get down to the post office to send some birthday gifts and Christmas cards, and well… we’ll see. I’ve been in a funk lately. Maybe a nice, long, toddler-free shower will help shake off the funk, maybe not. At the very least, my hair will smell nice.