There are some weeks where I wonder if I'm being filmed, because everything just goes so terribly wrong. I can't seem to hold a good mood longer than 5 minutes before disaster strikes again. This week has been one of those weeks. Every day has been so awful, to the point that spilling my dinner all over the floor tonight led to me crying in the laundry room. There were high wind warnings, and all day long it was as dark as 5pm. It was cold, wet, blustery, and a day straight from Wuthering Heights. Most days like this I would stay home and hunker down, but I've skipped too many social functions and hunkered down enough this week, so my mom came and we went out to lunch. It has been such a terrible week for us both that we desperately wanted, nay, needed a fun day. I just wanted to have a day to get my mind off all the stressful, crappy things going on. We ate at one of our favorite places; it's where we took Gracie on her first lunch outing, and today she sat in a high chair there for the first time. I felt myself slowly unwind as we sat in a quiet spot by the fireplace and ate our tomato soup and sandwiches while Gracie played with a rattle and chewed on some sourdough.
A few minutes into our meal, a group of five or six boisterous women took the table next to us. They were dressed in stilettos and pant suits and had very important opinions on very important things. They shouted and ranted and raved about Donald Trump and immigration and George Bush. They made fun of ex-husbands and their fathers' trophy wives. They quoted books and each one thought they had the answer to fix the world's problems. Mom and I tried to talk, but we couldn't even hear each other over the Democratic Convention next to us, and the heat from the fireplace started to make me feel feverish. They finally left, and they took what little energy I had with them. I felt as drained and exhausted as if I had been a part of the conversation. On top of it, I had been fighting a massive headache like I've never had before. It wasn't quite a migraine, but the lights were bothering me and I started to feel queasy. Mom had to run a quick errand on the way home, and I felt too awful to go in with her, so I sat in the car with the baby trying to keep my head from spontaneously combusting.
As we were waiting, I heard the telltale sounds of a diaper being filled. I debated changing her in the car, but we were so close to home and mom was almost done. When we got home, I rushed Gracie to her room to survey the damage, and it was the worst I've ever seen. I think it might have even been in her hair? Short of renting a power washer, I had no choice but to put her in the bath tub, which she did not tolerate. I was holding her with both hands, but she flung herself so violently she bonked her head on the tub. I panicked and scooped her up. She was more scared and tired than hurt, but she couldn't calm down, and the only thing to do was wrap her in a towel, rock her, and let her nurse. I didn't even have a chance to put a diaper on her before she peed all over me. Twice.
During all of this, my mom had gone downstairs to look for medicine to keep her from throwing up, since she was feeling sick as well. She came upstairs a little later to find one of us naked, one of us stripped down to her underwear, and both of us crying. She gave me a smile, hugged me, and we laughed, because sometimes there is nothing else you can do. But, on the bright side, I temporarily forgot about my headache.