A rough few days...

You guys know I'm usually all rainbows and unicorns around here, but holy cow.  The last few days have been a little rough. Why, you ask?  Well, let me just count the ways...

One.  I can't go into too much detail without breaking my no poop rule, but I'll just say that we've gone back and forth with three different formulas over the last week to try and find the right... balance.  It's kind of like Goldilocks and the Three Bears... only... not.  This morning was a colossal mess.  Spit up everywhere, followed by a diaper change that was significantly premature.  I ended up having to stick Gracie in the bathtub and start a load of laundry before I even had my breakfast.  

Two.  Because of the aforementioned tummy troubles and formula switching, Miss Priss had a rough night on Friday.  She had terrible gas and tummy pain, so after the third time she woke up (after letting her cry it out both times, poor baby), I went and got my sweet girl and put her in bed with us.  We all manged to get a few more hours of sleep this way, and Micah and I got to sneak in a few sweet snuggles.  

Three.  I didn't get to bed until 5:00 a.m. the "night" of my birthday because I had a repeat of the random, excruciating stomach/back pain I experienced while pregnant.  And I had stupidly taken two Tylenol PM before I went to bed because I felt the pain coming on, and I had hoped the medicine might help me sleep through it.  Instead, I ended up just feeling like a zombie as I cycled through any and every position I could think of to ease the pain.  Micah woke up to discover me missing and must have had a panic attack when he searched the house and couldn't find me.  He eventually walked into the office to find me laying facedown on the floor because it was the only stretch of carpet big enough for me to spread out on in the only position that made the pain bearable.  By 4:45, I was feeling okay enough to try and sleep.  Needless to say, I didn't make it into work on Friday.


Four.  My throat started feeling yucky on Saturday night as I was celebrating my birthday with my mom and stepdad with steaks on the grill and my favorite chocolate mousse cake (which my Mom has managed to remember to get me every year since I turned 15, I think).  When I woke up on Sunday, I knew I was coming down with something and made an appointment at an urgent care clinic near the house.  The doctor couldn't tell, yet, if it was viral (i.e., a cold) or bacterial (upper respiratory infection-ish), so I'm giving it a few days before I start the antibiotics and praying like crazy I don't give it to Grace.  Poor girl's had more than her fair share of sick lately!

Five.  The Zulily shipment that was supposed to be delivered this weekend never made it.  (Okay, so this one's pretty whiny, but I'm on a roll here. And I feel like I've sort of earned the right to whine for a minute or two.)

There's more, I'm sure, but my mind must have blocked it out in the interest of preserving my sanity.

There isn't a single second that isn't completely worth it.  But I won't lie... there's no part of me that will miss the spit up and diaper blowouts when they're gone. :)