Home on the Derange

I will preface this by stating that I already feel a bit guilty for what I’m about to say.

This is day 4 of staying home with Stella.  As you may or may not recall (and hell, I can’t even recall if I blogged about it or not at this point), I recently stayed home with Stella for most of a week while her nanny’s kids were sick (with the same thing Stella has now).  I thought that was bad.  We got bored.  We both got cantankerous.  I think by the end of it, we were both quite sick of each other.

This has been worse.  True, the poor little thing has felt pretty awful through most of it so far.  Now, however, she’s come through the worst but still isn’t quite herself yet.  As such, she’s still pretty temperamental and not the usual cheerful amusing kid we all know and love.  She cries.  A lot.  She also seems to think that at 11 months old, it’s a good time to try to reenter my womb.  She has to be on me at all times.  She climbs me like a tree, seemingly trying to become one with me.  It’s sweet but also incredibly draining.  If I leave her for a second, she screams.  Daddy won’t do.  Nope.  Not this time.  And it’s hard to get angry with her, as I know she still possibly feels badly or is hurting from her bobos or throat or whatever.  Not for the first time do I curse the fact that babies can’t talk and tell you what’s wrong.

I  knew it was going to be a rough week, but figured I’d make the best of it.  I’d get as much work stuff done as possible so as not to fall behind, and I’d surely be able to find some creative new meat recipes for our diet (still going strong and a good deal of weight lost!!).  I also have tons of movies on the DVR that I figured I’d get to watch.  Nope.  It took me almost a week to watch Catch Me If You Can (very good, by the way…probably better if you get to watch it all in one sitting).  The rest of our time has been spent sitting on the floor of the penitentiary while she sits on me watching an endless loop of the Bubble Guppies.

I have grown to hate the Bubble Guppies.  I’d make bouillabaisse out of them now if I could.  Their little personality tics have become nails on a chalkboard to me.  To hell with mush-mouth Oona.  Learn to talk, damn you.  And Deema really needs some Ritalin.  I know Nickelodeon has new episodes they’re just sitting on.  For the love of god, please release them!!  I can’t take Fishketball any more.

We are getting out of the house.  Today.  We’ll just run to the grocery store for a minute to hopefully reset both of us.  Maybe tomorrow we’ll make a lap around the mall.  We gotta do something.

About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
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