Pass the Kleenex

We are not having the best week ever over here. More of a horrible, no good, very bad week.

The last time I was a single parent for a week, things went pretty well, better than anticipated. This time, I, of course, thought 'piece of cake' and, of course, it's been downhill ever since.

First we started with the toddler suddenly peeing through the diaper necessitating frequent mid-night diaper changes and washing of bedding. Which, despite being tall, I have short arms and basically have to Heimlich myself over the crib railing to get the sheets on and off. This is why the hubby always does this, but he's not here. No he's in Atlanta, in a hotel with on demand air conditioning, cable television and a pool.

Then the toddler caught a cold along with the requisite crank.

The dog then decided to have a transcendent colonic spa cleanse all over the kitchen floor. That I discovered at 2 am. Barefoot.

I went in for a simple mole check and came out stitched up like Frankenstein. They told me it would hurt and I was all 'pshaww'. But now? OW! It does hurt. And as a bonus I am sensitive to the band-aid adhesive. It makes me itch. So I hurt and itch. Especially at night.

So, of course, the toddler slept through the night for the first time in 5 days last night, but was I sleeping? Nooooo. I was sitting on my hands trying to keep from scratching myself bloody or attempting to find a way to lay without putting pressure on any of the stitches because that hurts.

Is my life awesome or what?

Wait, it gets better.

So I make all these plans today with the toddler, right? We were going to have a blast. Story time. Park. Bubbles.

The day started out great. I exercised for once. My capris are super loose which means weight loss. The toddler is hyped about our plans. Life is good, yes?

Except the car seat has self-destructed. I can't tighten or loosen the straps for some reason. So we are stranded until my engineer genius relative gets home and fixes it or I go out and buy a new car seat while the engineer baby sits.

We were demoted to blowing bubbles on the front stoop. Only the bubbles wouldn't blow. Seriously.

The toddler is crushed. I am irked beyond all reason.

Also, I think I have a sore throat.

And my cell phone broke. (At least I have a back up.)

And I finished my birth control pack which, you know what that means. (Nothing good in case you are particularly obtuse.)

Am I wrong to want to cry? Or drink large amounts of alcohol?