Bad Day

Do you ever have a bad day where nothing really tragic happens, but nothing goes right either? It's like the world is just trying my patience today.

First, I had a Dr appointment at 11:30. Who has a Dr. appointment at 11:30? Talk about inconvenient. So, I packed the kids up - starting at 10:30 - and we were out the door by 11. Got to the Dr. at about 11:25 and headed in. That doesn't sound bad, but realize that in this short span of time, my oldest had a meltdown because she wanted to wear her pajamas, mini mouse snow hat and matching gloves. It was over 50 degrees out. Awesome. Eventually I said F-it and let her wear the strange ensemble. Then, when we got to the car, I realized my husband never took the baby seat out of the car that we were messing with to see if we could fit 3 car seats across in the Pilot. (The answer: kind of - more on that another time.) Have you ever seen an 8 months pregnant woman climbing over one child into the back seat of a car to fight a 2 year old into a car seat? It's not pretty.

Anyway, we got to the office and of course it's one of those visits that takes like 2 seconds to complete. A waste of time. First, you get the nurse that has you step on a scale. Why they weigh pregnant women past the first trimester is beyond me. I know I'm a fat ass, I don't need the scale to confirm this. My own scale is securely packed away - I don't need to know how much weight I've put on. A lot. I get it. STFU. Stepping on the scale invokes incredible anger and I find myself wanting to just punch the nurse in the face. She then cheerfully announces it's time to cart my 2 kids off to the bathroom to pee in a cup. Goody! I can't reach or see that general area well enough to know where the hell the cup is at, so I basically just pee all over my hand in an effort to catch some urine. I succeed, but the cup and my hand are covered in pee. Meanwhile, my 2 year old is pulling my hair as I'm hunched over and my 4 year old is unraveling 1/2 the roll of toilet paper screaming that I made a mess. Good times.

I leave the urine-covered cup on a paper towel on the counter and wash my hands. I help the kids go potty and wash their hands. It's quite the bathroom adventure. After that, we head to the exam room where we rot while we wait for the Dr. to come. My 4 year old is entertained by the iPad while my 2 year old literally climbs EVERYTHING that she shouldn't be climbing and I'm essentially just chasing her for the 20 minutes that it takes for the Dr. to come in.

Once the Dr. arrives she measures my stomach, checks the heartbeat and asks how I'm feeling. I have 2 rambunctious kids that nobody can control, I'm 8 months pregnant and you made me come here to step on a scale, pee in a cup, measure my stomach and check the heartbeat. How the F do you think I'm feeling? Homicidal comes to mind.

She says everything looks good and she'll see me in a week. I shoot her a death glare and laugh psychotically. She offers 2 weeks. I say 3. She says no. I say lets just shake, leave as friends and meet again at the hospital in about a month. She says no. Bitch. I imagine running her down in the parking lot since she's surely going to lunch after my appointment.

Then, to make things more fun she mentions we're doing "the swab" the next time. For those who haven't been blessed with giving birth, "the swab" is a reference to a test they do at the end of pregnancy where they use a big cotton swab to swish around your bum and you hoo-haw to check and see if you have Strep B. If you do, you get to go on antibiotics during labor - they go in your hand and I can't imagine they feel good since nothing that goes in your hand via an IV feels good. If you don't get the test done in time, you get the IV. Fun. In 2 weeks when she plans to do the test, I'll have the minions with me again as my sister won't be up yet. I really would prefer to wait 3 weeks, but she says no. So somehow I get to be bare-assed in the office with just a sheet of paper covering my modesty and a feisty 2 year old that loves to shred paper on my hands. Good times. I think I'm going to have car troubles and I'll just get the damn IV if I go into labor before the next appointment.

So after all of that nonsense, I fight the kids into the car - the 2 year old winds up in the front seat and has to be forced into her car seat where she screams and says I hurt her. The lady in the car next to mine with her window down looks like she's about to call CPS. At this point I'm beyond fed up with everyone. I strap her in despite her screams and leave.

We get home, unload and the kids do their usual strip-down less than 2 steps into the house which means you can't get past them without tripping. It's annoying and they won't move further in no matter how many times you tell them, move them, ask them, or otherwise try to get your point across.

The day continues with irritable kids that won't follow directions or behave for anything, but we add in a few braxton hicks and some random hip pains. Good times. I have ZERO motivation to clean, but I make myself do it anyway. Twice the husband calls to see what's new and when there's no news he acts as if I've committed some faux pas by not having anything interesting to entertain him with while he takes a break. Sorry.

At the end of the day I get an email from my editor. My last assignment was crap. He basically hated it. I didn't do any of it right. Wonderful. I suck at life. The kids are brats that won't nap. I feel like I'm on a healthcare conveyor belt and I can't personalize my care at all and everyone is pissing me off at this point. At least I'm planning leftovers for dinner, so I don't have to cook. Dinner rolls around, we bust out the leftovers and the hubby takes 2 bites before pushing his plate away. Apparently that's just one more way that I failed at life today. Awesome.

I can't do or say anything right and the world isn't afraid of letting me know. Nobody will cooperate and the day just sucked in general. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.