Friday, October 16, 2015

The Sound of Shit Hitting the Fan...

...is a sound I've come to recognize as of late, no joke. See, my husband has been working both in CA and in Europe for the last half year, and it seems that whenever he leaves me to go work {in Europe} for weeks at a time, something goes wrong... or should I say things go wrong all at once. Like, for example twice earlier this year I got the flu, the friggin' bone crushing, I think I'm dying, someone please put me out of my misery flu, within days of his departure. I'm generally a pretty healthy person but if he leaves, I will get something. And when he's here, we live a relatively simple, boring life.

Let me take you back two Saturdays ago, when all that smelly metaphorical pooh collided with the metaphorical fan in my life, of course when my hubs wasn't on the same continent as me. It started out as a beautiful Saturday morning, peaceful and happy with all three of my babes. We had a full day planned; baseball at 11:15, shopping, party decorating and my daughter's 9th birthday party at 6:00. All was going as planned {I even showered, which never happens on a Saturday morning} when I went to change Jakob's explosive diaper. He had been battling a major diaper rash {thanks to a newly developed allergy to the diapers I was buying} when I noticed his penis was swollen. Yes, I said it, his little baby penis was SWOLLEN. I couldn't handle it. I didn't understand why this was happening but I knew it wasn't normal. As I sat there trying to figure out how I was going to get Lukas to baseball and Jakob to the doctor, I realized I had no clothes on and was just wearing a towel. When explosive diapers happen, I drop what I'm doing and move quick people.

So I got dressed. I called my smart nurse practitioner bestie to see what I should do. She gave me a run down of worst case scenarios that didn't really make me feel better but agreed that he needed to see a doctor quick. I called my mom to see if she could meet me at baseball to stay with the older two while I take Jakob to get checked out. I figured, it's Saturday, the doctor's office is closed and I'll have to take him to the ER, which will take for friggin' ever. But for an irritated, enlarged penis, I would ditch baseball and wait however long to get my baby fixed.

I got lucky. The pediatrician's office was open but we got there during lunch hours, go figure. So Jake and I ran to the store and bought all the food for the party and finished some odds and ends. When we arrived to see the doctor. not our regular, wonderful, I could be friends with you pediatrician. but this doctor who wouldn't even make eye contact with me when he said PENIS and took notes on a paper towel {I digress}, he agreed that something had infected my little man's privates and that he get some meds, good deal. We got our anti fungal creams and antibiotics and raced to get Heidi and Lukas at grandma's house. Those two didn't seem to bothered by the fact that I basically left them at the baseball fields in a rush because they were treated to In-N-Out for lunch and had a great time with grandma. I however felt immense guilt for missing the game, to which I have yet to get over.

So we got home, got washed up and decorated like little crazy people in hopes to get the house looking the way I had imagined in my head for weeks leading up to the party. It turned out okay -cough- boring but at least it was decorated. This would be the reason I haven't posted pictures from the big first sleepover on the old blog ha. Seriously though, bad blogger.

Anywho, when my husband called the next day and I told him all about our adventures the day before {and I listened to him complain about how boring it was for him alone in his apartment} I reminded myself of a few things... One: I'm lucky that I get these adventures, even if they suck in the moment. Two: I suffer from a raging case of mommy guilt. Three: I must do a better job at cleaning little penises so this doesn't happen again. Four: Remember that when my husband leaves, bad things will happen and shit will hit the fan {so be prepared!}

Happy Friday y'all!



11 comments:

  1. Lol. Shit happens. Irritated penises happen. Just hopefully next time the shit won't irritate the penis. ;) girl it happens. Don't let your mommy guilt get to you. You are a good momma. Chin up buttercup.

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  2. I have those days when my husband is planting or harvesting 18 hour days. (The result is that he is gone all of the children's waking hours, but I still have to make food for him. So think about that bonus in your situation.) Sometimes I start to get jealous of all his quiet alone time and then I think, Who am I kidding? I don't want to go sit in a friggin' tractor for 18 hours straight! I hate missing my kids' games too. My daughter will inevitably hit a home run if I can't go!!

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  3. Or not so happy Friday? Yikes, that gets hard. On the plus side, at least you know you miss your husband, right?

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  4. I've had days like that! But why is it that those things only happen when my husband away for a business trip? Why god??

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  5. Ugh .It's just like the fact that my kids can never get sick during normal Dr hours . We're currently waiting in urgent care for an hour and a half because my son didn't want to tell me about his earache this morning .

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  6. Oh god, why does it always happen at the worst moment? At least the dipe explosion didn't happen on your party clothes?

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  7. This is a great story!! You made it through the day and your little boy didn't lose his penis. Those are good things. Just wait until next Friday when you get an entirely new adventure!

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  8. This is a great story, Thanks for sharing!

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  9. Haha, we all have those days! Shit certainly does happen! x

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    hailandharmony.blogspot.ie
    // BLOGLOVIN

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  10. Me too! Shit does happen but hang in there cos you are great mom and wife!

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  11. oooh my..what a daaay...sh$t does happen indeed when hubby is not around..I once got robbed while taking public transport when my hubby just left me on business trip for one day. Well, I guess we just need to be extra careful all the time..

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