By Allie Wade
I’m trying to channel my inner Carrie Bradshaw right now. I found this cute nook in a coffee shop with exposed brick, vintage furniture and weird inspirational art. Nevermind that my little spot is the upstairs section in this coffee shop and it is appropriately 300 degrees up here. Combine that with my lack of a shower for the last three days and a strong latte, and I’m smelling nothing like I imagine Carrie Bradshaw would. Although, the lid on my travel deodorant fell off inside of my school bag and got all over my hands when I reached in for a pen, so that’s something.
I am feeling very wreck-ish. I just unloaded on my therapist. She was the first person I saw this morning after the icing on my motherhood-this-week cake.
Baylor refused, I mean REFUSED to get out of the car at preschool this morning. Wouldn’t budge. Just “nope.” I bribed him with candy, threatened to call Santa right then and there, told him I would get him a new toy for being brave, that I would share photos with his class of the How to Train Your Dragon Live show that we went to last night… nothing worked. Finally I lied and told him I would ask the teacher if I could stay in his class for 7 minutes. Bad move.
He went inside, we showed dragon photos, and then he started crying. I booked it for the door once his teacher tried to distract and comfort him, and then he stood in the window with his face plastered to the window just screaming, watching me walk to the car.
I got a quick and nasty stomach bug on Tuesday afternoon. I was completely immobile and useless. The only place I felt ok was in my bath tub. While doubled over in pain and submersed in hot water, Baylor woke up from his nap. He SCREAMED for me to get him out of his bed (a bed he can easily get in and out of, mind you). I yelled back that I was sick and could not get him, and that I was sorry, and that he could get out by himself. For 20 minutes I listened to him yell. In so much pain, realizing his will power, and knowing he could scream all day, I got out and lifted him out of his bed. And then I cried.
Luckily, Toby came to the rescue and helped with Baylor while I was balled up on the couch.
The next morning, feeling better, I took Bay to school and was so excited about having three hours to rest while he was gone. 10:15 I got a call to pick him up because he was point five degrees away from having a temperature high enough to get sent home. And so my dreams of alone time were gone.
Our dog keeps drinking Christmas tree water and puking all over our house. Really, like, everywhere.
My laundry is insane.
I need a shower. And a haircut.
Who has time for Christmas shopping?
Oh wait, I have to read 300 pages for my master’s program this week? Sure.
And so, this morning, I was willing to do anything to get him out of my car and into my class so that I could drink this beautiful pumpkin spice latte in peace while staring at the exposed brick in front of me. I have an hour left until I pick him up… that shower is looking like a real possibility.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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