I am working like crazy on a report for work. When I say a report, I actually mean the software behind that nice Excel report that you get – the software that is going to drive me to the insane asylum all by itself. My boss even says “this shows how immature this software is” when today we couldn’t get a number to act like a number. We truly had to “sneak up on it from the other side” to get the software to recognize that the field should be a number. Oh, and that software? We’re upgrading to version 3.0 soon. Can’t wait, since we’ve already found how buggy 3.0 is!
I DREAM about this stupid report. I sit up in the middle of the night with an “ah-ha!” moment. I already have to wake up 3 times per night to pee. I don’t NEED to wake up any more times!
In actual J-man news, I am now persona-non-grata. He has become a definite Daddy’s boy… which, you know, hurts my feelings. I’m all, “I carried you around inside me for 41 1/2 weeks, was in labor for almost 18 hours, and am STILL nursing you, and this is the thanks I get?”
Then, I pull myself back from the ledge of actually being MY MOTHER, and cool down. If the J-man is a Daddy’s boy, it means Mommy gets to eat dinner. You know, eat dinner, and not have to stop eleventy-seven times for something the Little Man wants. It means I don’t have to carry him around the entire time I’m downstairs. It means if I can’t get the J-man to put on clothes, it’s Daddy’s job.
OK, I’ll take that part. But I still miss being the one who makes him smile when he sees me.
On a personal health note, I went to a follow-up visit to the cardiologist yesterday. He was concerned about the pitting edema in my feet/ankles, but we can’t really do anything about it because of the bean. He asked if I was still having shortness of breath and some pain, and I said yes. He asked if I was going to the doctor about it, and I said, “Look, the last time I went to the doctor about this, I ended up in the hospital for 2 days, and it cost me about $1000 out-of-pocket for them to tell me I needed to rest. I can walk into my bedroom and lie down for WAY cheaper than that.” He agreed…
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Then again if your doctor tells you to rest, it has a much better effect on your boss’s understanding. . .
Hi, I just started reading you guys and am really enjoying your smarts and enthusiasm. I have a five-year-old girl on the spectrum and a seemingly normal (for our family) two-year-old.
We’re finding that with two, we have to brutally alternate our attentions because inevitable, both of them go into a mommy- or daddy-phase at once, and then it’s just tough luck if you have to be read to by the chopped liver parent.
Hi, Marya! Glad you’re enjoying our blog!
We have a lot to learn from people like you whose first child is autistic. Obviously we have no clue what Us Version 3.0 is going to be like, so part of me has made some peace with the reality that we’ll just have to play it by ear and see. But I tend to be a serial worrier and want to plan all of my anxiety out ahead of time.
Of course, we live so much in the moment around here that it’s hard to figure out what life is going to be like tomorrow let alone in 27-ish weeks from now or the rest of eternity after that. I’ve steadily come to grips with the likely truth that there’s not much point in dwelling on the future.
I can feel my brain freeze up sitting here thinking about it. I think I’ll just go to bed now!