Posted by: angelnorman | January 28, 2011

Hello, Friday. Suck it, bad week.

I can breathe a sigh of relief. This week is almost over.

Bouncing checks and upset stomachs can no longer get me down. Well, I suppose the latter could because I do feel that familiar ache rising up… but today is Friday, and I can’t be sick on a Friday. That simply would not be right. Plus, it’s a very special Friday- pay day. YES.

Of course most of the check is gone now, but hey! Whatevs.

Yesterday at the dentist office, I cried. I know it’s going to sound silly, but I think, you know, I was just having a tough week that was made even tougher when I woke up yesterday morning. That one tiny thing… hopping out of bed all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, having had nine hours of glorious (almost uninterrupted except for when Mike came to bed at midnight-ish and decided to re-make the bed around me… weirdo.) sleep. I wonder if my day would have been less chaotic yesterday had I slept till 11. Lord only knows. But, no, I woke up at 5:30 AM rarin’ to go. Took Nick to school and then came home and tackled some housework.

When I left to go get him at 1:50-ish, I decided to take a pee break before I got trapped in my car for the next half hour. So I used the bathroom, not seeing that the toilet hadn’t filled up from whoever used it last (Mike), and when I flushed it, the water rose and rose and overflowed onto my nice clean bathroom floor. “Noooooooooo!” I whined, grabbing the plunger and plunging till my hands hurt. The water would not budge. “Arrrrrrrgh!” I think that was the noise I made.

I sat my purse down on the coffee table and it tipped over and EVERY. SINGLE. THING. fell out onto the floor. Abandoning the toilet, I cleaned up my purse, grabbed my cigarettes and ran out the door.

I couldn’t take it.

Flash forward to 4 pm, and I’m telling the dentist that I feel really silly for bringing Nick in about baby teeth not getting out in what I deem “fast enough” for the three adult teeth that are working their way into his mouth as we speak. She says that he has inherited mine and Mike’s small jaws, and that if we don’t pull all three remaining baby teeth to make room for the four teeth total that will have to go there, we will be setting Nick up for failure. Okay, she didn’t say it like that. She said, “I know it seems like since he’s going to need braces anyways, it really doesn’t matter if his teeth are overly crowded now, but were he my kid, I’d want him to start with the best possible foundation….”

I hate when doctors say that. Guess what? He’s not yours, so shutup. No but really, it’s like that extra punch of guilt that you have to do something… that’s sort of like they’re saying, “If you don’t do this, I’m going to think you’re a bad parent, because were he mine, it would be done.”

Not that I would consider not doing it. Whatever my baby needs, my baby gets.

Bad parent? Not over here.

But I did cry then. I cried because it seems like Nick always has something wrong. Then Mike told me I was over-reacting and I told him to shut his face, that I would react however I please. Then he rubbed my hand and said, “I know what you mean. We’re always going to feel that way about him, regardless of what it is or how he was born. He’s been through a lot, but the worry is part of being a parent.” And I knew he was right, that I was being stupid, that after this week, I wasn’t just crying for Nick’s baby teeth and the sedation he’ll need to get them out…. no. I was crying for me. For everything that was weighing on my shoulders. For all the stomachache, the negative bank account, the ugly email I got about having a bounced check, the electric bill, the carb addiction, the argument, the feeling fat, the feeling ugly, the overflowing toilet, and the purse falling to the floor and breaking the figurative camel’s back.

And then the idea of them taking Nick to sedate him… and not allowing me to go in with him! It breaks my heart.

My mom took me to dinner last night, just us. We laughed, and ate until we couldn’t eat anymore. Then we went shopping and I made her try on like 17 different shirts. By the end of the night, I felt much happier thanks to quotes like, “Let’s eat until all these chips are gone!” and “I burped and vomit came up.” Not to mention that we spent her entire gift card on 4 shirts. BUT SHE’S CUTE IN THEM. And that’s all that matters.

I’m just so glad to say hello to Friday.

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Responses

  1. I know….right….it was a fun night even though my hair looked terrible by the end of the night making me try all those shirts….lol and the lady telling me oh that’s cute when it really showed my fat rolls and looked horrible on me just so she could get a sell I know she was just doing her job…lol….good times.


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