How much do the gods hate me right now? Let me count the ways:
1) We’re only one week into what is probably going to be a three-plus week (factoring in the holidays) wait to find out anything about that damnable test, and I’m already feeling punchy about it;
2) I have the MOTHER OF ALL HEAD COLDS and cannot take anything to relieve the congestion and IT SUCKS;
3) Her Bad Father has the father of all head colds – his first head cold all year long – and even though he can take all those delicious anti-decongestant meds, he’s still miserable and fully willing to bitch about it;
4) We’re moving in two days. No, we haven’t finished packing; thanks for asking!
5) Wonderbaby has an eye infection, probably pink eye, and can’t go to daycare and keeps emptying the few boxes that I manage to pack in my sick, miserable state;
6) Did I mention that we’re moving? And that we’re sick? And that Wonderbaby can’t go to daycare and that she keeps unpacking my boxes and repacking them in her own, uniquely inefficient and exceedingly messy toddler fashion? (My bring boots to new house! My bring Toadstool! My bring juice! My bring diapers! My bring kitty! PUT IN BOX! My helping Mommy!)
(Those diapers that she packs? Not always, um, new diapers. Sometimes, they come right off her ass and straight into the box, right alongside the sippy cup, the boots and the cat.)
On the plus side, we do get a pretty new house. Also, we’ve been having rousing family discussions about penises and boobies and what goes into diapers, and that’s always fun. Oh, and Wonderbaby’s school pictures came in:
Maybe it all balances out in the end.