Given what had been going on with Doug, my parents volunteered to take the boys overnight at their house. They literally live down the lane from us so it is a quick trip to bring any forgotten items. Since I was really hoping for a night to just relax, regroup, and collect my thoughts, I wanted to try and make sure I have everything packed for both boys. As I am scrambling about gathering extra binkies, clothes, blankets, and white noise machines, I hear a thud followed quickly by scream crying. Not the, "I'm irritated because I fell down trying to get something out of reach," but the, "I am hurt! Get here fast!" cry. When I turn the corner I see Joey laying on the floor. This is a sight I see at least 3 times a day now as he is pulling to stand but hasn't mastered balance yet. Then I noticed three little drops of blood on the floor. When I pick him up I see blood in his mouth and it seems to be coming fast and in significant quantity. My first thought was of panic and frenzy. Then I quickly flashed back to the first time Gavin got hurt and drew blood. Gavin was fine after a couple minutes 2 1/2 years ago and Joey would be fine now. So I calmly tended to the very small cut in his mouth and put a little bit of ice on his lip (which he actually LOVED!) and despite a bit of a fat lip, he was fine in a few minutes. I had to laugh or else, I'd cry.

Before I left to take the boys down to my parents I asked Doug what he was in the mood for for dinner. He requested, "Real macaroni and cheese. You know? The kind with the toasted breadcrumbs on top." The only place I could think of that had that was a 20 minute drive but, it was a good excuse to be alone with my thoughts. I drove back home with dinner thinking about how I was going to spend my child-free night.

I got home and unpacked dinner. No mac and cheese to be found. None. I drove all the way there for the mac and cheese and now Doug has a side order of home fries but no macaroni and cheese. I was so disappointed in myself that I didn't think to check the bag. I was frustrated that my efforts to please my sick husband were thwarted by a Bob Evan's carryout snafu. I ate my salad and watched my husband eat an order of "too salty" potatoes. I had to laugh or else I'd cry.

Because the boys were at my parents, I slept until after 8 am. Something that hasn't happened since Joey was born. Every Saturday morning, I go to workout at a MMA Fit class. It is a challenging workout but I look forward to pushing myself and working hard. After my first class several months ago, I lovingly nicknamed my Saturday trainer, "Steroid Raging No Necker." This isn't him but he looks a lot like the guy on the right. I will warn you that the following stories are just weird but they were too funny (read awkward and uncomfortable) not to share.

In the middle of class, the trainer was demonstrating how my stance was putting me off balance. His point was taken but he evidently wanted to demonstrate how off balance I was. He pushed me in the chest to knock me off balance. Now, as I am sure when you pictured this, you imagined his hand pushing me somewhere between my breast and my shoulder, right? Um. No. His hand was planted squarely on the fleshy part of my boob. I fell backward and laughed out loud thinking that he simply forgot he was training women today and not a bunch of sweaty male fighters. I thought for sure that he was going to be apologizing profusely and blushing at what HAD to me a mistake. He didn't. He didn't even acknowledge the booby grab. He went on continuing to have me demonstrate my stance. I thought I must have been going crazy. I had to laugh, or else I'd cry.

Then, after class had finished there were a few of us chatting about self defense. (Now, thinking back, I totally should have asked him how to defend myself from booby grabbers!) The next part is the strangest and I am not sure I am going to be able to describe it well but I'll give it a shot. He wanted me to hit myself in the neck. I did while looking at him as if he was crazy. He told me to do it harder. I laughed and said, "I don't really want to hit myself in the neck." Then, like a mean and intimidating parent, he looks at me sternly and tells me to hit myself in the neck while demonstrating the action on himself. I am smiling but now it is out of sheer anxiety. I do it two or three more times thinking that if I humor him I will be able to escape. I guess I wasn't doing it hard enough or something because he gave up on telling me to do it and then he hit me in the neck with the side of his hand. He asked me what I felt. I told him that it hurt and again laughed but almost with tears because I was so confused. His behavior just wasn't making any sense, but like a group of teenagers, people stood around watching this happen and no one, including me, had the guts to tell this dude to shove it where the sun doesn't shine. I guess hurting wasn't what I was supposed to feel because he then told me that hitting me where he was, the jugular vein, it was supposed to distort my vision or something. He hit me in the neck one last time quite hard and asked me what I saw. I was so inside of my head that I wasn't seeing anything. He finally gave up. Yeah. I had to laugh or else I'd cry.

Then for lunch, my husband really wanted that mac and cheese that he didn't get to have yesterday, so I climbed into the car to drive to the restaurant. Again. We didn't have to pay for the macaroni this time since we paid for it yesterday but while the manager was working out the issue on the receipt, I decided to treat myself to a fountain Coke. After all, I got my boob grabbed and then hit in the neck repeatedly. I deserved a Coke today!



Tweet

Today has been one of those days that I wish I would have had the option to stay in bed and hide under covers. It started with my morning temperature being so low that it wasn't just under my coverline. It was so low that it was lower than my pre-ovulation temperatures this month. So low that, rather than contemplate the possibility of taking a pregnancy test, I contemplated whether I should just use a pad today or go ahead and use a tampon since my period should be here any minute. Anyone who has tried to conceive by charting knows how that low temperature can just ruin a perfectly good day. Bring on the cramps and hormonal rages.

I did have to get out of bed because my in-laws were coming over to watch the boys so that I could go to workout. As most every other stay at home mom will admit, that means that I have to frantically clean the house so that they don't see how we live most of the time. While I am trying to straighten things up, Gavin is driving Joey crazy by grabbing his arms and hands whenever Joey was trying to reach for something. I think Gavin thinks it is funny when Joey is frustrated because despite my reminders to leave Joey alone, Gavin continued his mission to make Joey crazy. This made me crazy. After a long weekend of little sleep, this didn't take much. Then off I go to exercise. I am tired. Crampy. Irritable. Just plain annoyed to be awake.

Because the class was larger than usual and I was showing up at the last minute, I got my least favorite spot in the room. Front and center. But, considering how my morning was this didn't surprise me. The instructor was calling out exercises and between yawns and my mind wandering I managed to follow along. She then asked me to help her demonstrate an exercise. Now, as she is handing me the exercise band I have a gut feeling. It was one of those feeling where I just knew that this was going to end badly. She handed me the plastic handles of the rubber band stretching tool. She put the middle of the band on the front of her tummy and began running in the opposite direction. I don't think it takes a masters degree in physics to see why this was a terrible idea. I watched the already thin rubber band stretch thinner. Thinner. As it grew even thinner my eyes squinted as if to prepare for impact. Then SNAP. I felt my right hand holding a plastic handle with no tension. My left hand was holding the other handle which was flying through the air coming back to literally whip me.

As if the instant pain wasn't excruciating enough I gritted my teeth and thought I was going to be able to laugh it off. I am not a big fan of attention and being in the front row and having the entire class watch me get whipped by a huge rubber band was nightmarish. Then, she asked the question. The one where no matter if the pain is emotional or physical, it makes the tears well up and pour out. "Oh My God, Maria?! Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'll be okay." I answered hoping to make the whole situation disappear as quickly as it happened.

"Are you sure? Where did it get you? Oh no! You are going to cry! Oh no! Please! I am so sorry! Oh no! You ARE crying."

I put both of my hand on her shoulders to calm her down. I knew she felt terrible but I just felt like everyone was already focused on me. I wanted to cry because it hurt so freaking bad but I wished I could have disappeared through a wall to do it. Her drawing so much attention to me was making me cry more. I didn't want to make her feel worse by telling her exactly how painful it was so I explained, " I am just really tired. I am hormonal and PMSing and plus it did hurt. I will be okay. I am a tough girl." She finally let it go.

I am really hoping that the rest of my day improves. Although that will probably be difficult since my period will likely be showing up to remind me that I am not pregnant again this month.