What do they all have in common, you ask?
They have all screwed me over in some way in the last 4 days. O yes, friends. It’s true.
Episode One: the furnace
Thursday night around about 8:00pm DanO and I started our nightly marital banter.
Me: Babe, it’s cold in here.
Him: It’s the same temperature it always is. Want this blanket? ::passes me blanket::
Me: This and 4 other blankets plus maybe a foot massage (I think I still have feet? Not sure, haven’t felt them in about an hour) would make it better.
Him: Fine. You can turn it up ONE degree. O-N-E.
Me: ::smugly walk over the the thermostat and victoriously press the up arrow:: … Uh, babe? Nothing’s happening. AND IT SAYS IT’S 62° IN HERE!
The next couple hours were spent not cuddling on the couch watching NBC comedy but instead, rounding up space heaters and trouble shooting the thermostat. You know, the $60 thermostat we bought about a month ago. Because surely it was the $60 thermostat’s problem and not the…
…the $1500 furnace that we put in new when we bought the house 2.5 years ago. No, no. It couldn’t be the furnace.
Until it was the furnace. By the time we isolated that it was the new, expensive furnace and DanO had a pretty good idea what part in the new, expensive furnace was malfunctioning, it was near midnight (Did I mention it was new? And expensive?) so we cuddled up with space heaters a’ glowing in both bedrooms and made plans for the next day.
Friday. DanO uses his lunch break to meet with his dad at our (now 52°) house and work on the furnace. OBaby and I are exiled to Nana and Papa’s house. Holy away from home all day with a toddler in a non-toddler-proof house Exhaustion. And the best part is, what toddler in her or her right (or wrong) mind would ever want to nap at Nana’s house? So! Many! Things! to get into! And put in our mouths! Must! Climb! On! Fireplace! Must empty All! Decorative! Bowls! filled with Nic-nacs!
So OBaby didn’t nap, despite my best consistent and stubborn efforts. Thankfully, we were saved by the bell/phone call from DanO that HUZZAH! Christmas miracle! They had replaced the control panel on the furnace and it was now like new (very, very new. And expensive.)! Friday afternoon looked to hold a nap for OBaby after all.
Thus ends the saga of the malfunctioning (new, expensive) furnace. But, wait! There’s more!
Episode Two: the digestive system
As expected, OBaby was asleep before we even left Nana and Papa’s driveway. First thing I thought to myself? “Dude, I totally deserve McDonald’s right now.” Up to the drive-through I pull, order my meal (What’s that? It’s 2:00 in the afternoon? Not really lunch but definitely not dinner yet, either? And there are how many calories in that meal? ::lalala:: I can’t hear you!) complete with sweet tea as the beverage (PLEASE tell me you’ve had their sweet tea?). Then I sat in an idling car with a sleeping baby in the back, consuming an impossible numbers of calories by the mouthful. It was supposed to be everything I deserved after that day, and more. Except it wasn’t.
I finished my sandwich and found myself shockingly, unprecedentedly, impossibly not at all desirous of the tub full of greasy fries that sat on my passenger seat (yes, I just said desirous). Weird. I sipped some liquid sugar/sweet tea and headed for home (where our new! expensive! furnace was now working) to idle the car there for the rest of the nap. I twiddled my thumbs for a while, and you know what? Gosh I really don’t think I’m feeling so great, I thought. Soon after, OBaby woke up from his nap and the sequence of events that followed went something like this:
- Take OBaby out of car.
- Grab purse and diaper bag.
- Turn and head for the house.
- Turn head and throw-up in the yard (while holding OBaby).
- Walk as fast as I can to put OBaby and bags in the house.
- Walk back to the front yard and throw-up more (no way I was making it through the house to the bathroom).
- Tell OBaby that I’m ok.
- Say it again, but louder so he can hear me over his cries.
- Close the front door so he can’t see me.
- Throw-up some more.
- Cry and go back into the house.
O, O HOW I WISH this were the end of the digestive system saga. Except it’s not.
DanO, my night in shining armor, my furnace-fixer extraodinaire, and the father of my babies arrived home with these in hand:
The tri-fecta: Bubble Bath, chocolate, and flowers.
This day was totally looking up, impromptu vomiting aside.
But, before I could even enjoy a peaches and cream bubble bath or a peppermint bark square, my stomach was at it again.
If you needed me at any point Friday night, I could have been found clutching a metal bowl and/or the toilet. I kept nothing down, not chicken soup, not broth, not gatorade, not a popsicle, not even water. I called my midwife and was told to go into the ER if I went 12 hours without keeping liquids down. At 11:00pm when I moved laboriously from the couch to my bed, that looked like the direction in which we were headed (YAY! ER TRIP AT 3AM!).
My head hit the my pillow and there it was: a low, aching, crampy feeling that started in my lower back and moved to the front. Then it was gone. But there it was again. And again a handful of minutes later.
That? That is what pre-term labor contractions feel like. Dehydration? It can cause contractions and pre-term labor. Screw 3am, I called my midwife and told her we were headed to the ER that very second (if I could just get pants on between throwing up).
We had, praise God, already been in contact with friends (none other than The Flipping Couple) who live nearby and were leaving their phones on in case we needed them at 3am. Thankfully, they were ready a few hours early and we were off to the hospital. YAY! ER TRIP AT MIDNIGHT!
The next several hours went something like this (prepare yourself for a 1am hospital mugshot):
O, yes. I felt exactly as good (and cold) as I looked.
I was given an IV of fluids and some anti-nausea medicine. For nearly 10 hours I had felt like death reincarnate, and I’m telling you it took less than 10 minutes after the IV was in for me to feel human again. They also monitored gummybear and checked to make sure I had no other signs of labor. Thankfully, I did not and gummybear’s heart sounded great.
(An aside: I went fully 10 years having only seen female doctors for my… ahem… very female concerns. That ended on Friday when Dr. Jeremy was on call in the ER. O My Heck, why anyone would have a male for her female concerns doctor is beyond me (but bless your heart).)
I was discharged at 3:00am with a prescription for more of the anti-nausea medication.
THAT, and a full day of sleeping more than I was awake on Saturday, is the end of the digestive system saga.
Episode Three: the car
Today. I survived Monday. It was 3:30pm and Daddy was going to walk through that door any seco…
“Hunny? I’m stuck at work. My car won’t start. As in the engine won’t even turn over. Can you come get me?”
…to be continued.
No, really. I have no idea how this is going to end. We were able to jump it eventually (and I do mean eventually) but… GET THIS: The battery? It’s new. New, like 3 months new. And? Was moderately expensive.
(This is me, throwing my hands in the air.)