A Hopeless Moment

I made plans to see a friend of mine for a movie this evening. I haven't seen her for a while, and I won't see her again for a while because she's only days away from leaving to an exotic locale for her wedding. As one of the first friends I told about my unplanned pregnancy, who then threw me a lovely baby shower and even crocheted a beautiful blanket for my daughter (one that she still sleeps with every night), she is someone who is very dear to me. While I am in my internship on-campus and she is no longer a student, we rarely see each other anymore - even when I was invited to her wedding shower, I had to miss it because I was sick. Because of all these reasons, it felt really important for me to reconnect with her tonight.

Late in the afternoon, I got a call from my babysitter. "Are you still going out tonight?" she asked. I confirmed that I was. "Oh, because something came up and I can't make it." I gritted my teeth. "Uh huh," I responded. I got no further explanation as to what happened, just an apology and an offer for her friend (whom I've never met) to pinch-hit at a much higher hourly rate. I declined the offer of the friend's services - because, really, who would leave their baby in the care of a total stranger? - and immediately got to thinking how I might salvage this night.

Now, this might be an appropriate time to mention that I haven't been out socially without my daughter in about a month. It might also be appropriate to mention that I really f-ing need a break. Especially with her being sick so frequently and me still feeling the strangely lingering effects of the stomach flu (even this morning, I had a terrified moment at Gymboree when I thought I would throw up all over the colourful mats, but I managed to breathe my way through it and luckily it passed). I have been feeling restless and unsatisfied lately because of my desperate need for a break, and this is yet another reason why I was so looking forward to a night out with my friend tonight.

So, after the babysitter bailed on me, I immediately got on the phone to some friends. I called or text-messaged everyone I thought might be able to help out. One by one, I kept getting turned down. Two hours before having to meet my friend at the movie theatre, at late afternoon on a Saturday, I figured my odds of finding someone able and willing to help out were pretty slim. The last friend I called was in the middle of some school work, and she said she'd think about it and call me back right away. Buoyed by the possibility of still being able to make it out tonight, I hung up the phone and waited for her to call back. It was in this moment of silence that I heard the sound of cat litter rustling around in the guest room.

"Oh God, where's Sophia?" I thought to myself. I jumped up and ran to the guest room to find what I had dreaded: my daughter, mixed with dirty cat litter, mixed with cat food, mixed with a full bowl of water. There was cat shit on the guest bed. A puddle of clay-muddied water was trickling along the baseboards. Clay toddler and cat footprints marred the entire floor. All the cat food was in the cat water, along with clumps of litter. Litter and cat shit and clumps of cat pee were everywhere. And my daughter, smiling triumphantly with a fistful of soaking cat food in one hand and the litter scoop in the other, looked at me with glee as I found her soaked and filthy in the midst of all this mess. I opened my mouth to start yelling at her when the phone rang. It was my friend - she couldn't help me. My last hope, gone. And now all I had to look forward to all evening was cleaning this hideous mess.

I hung up the phone, then crumpled to the floor and starting bawling. I was done. Just. Done.

I managed to clean the mess, pausing occasionally to burst into tears again. I managed to make dinner with a glazed-over expression as my daughter ran around me yelling "mommy! mommy! mommy!". I managed even to bathe my daughter, read to her half-heartedly, and put her in bed. But I still felt so done. Maybe I would had felt better if I'd been biking this week. Maybe I would have been floating off those happy chemicals that fire up during exercise, and I would have felt more resilient when faced with disappointments and challenges like I was today. I guess I'll never know.

Wherever you are out there, Future Husband, get here already!! I just can't do this on my own anymore.

Week Twenty-Eight - Day Three: Weak

BIKE: Mike
TIME THERE: 29 min.
TIME BACK: 27 min.
WEATHER: overcast, -5C (-10C with windchill), 13 km/hr wind there; clear, 3C (0C with windchill), 11 km/hr wind back.
WHAT I WORE: yoga pants, t-shirt, fleece jacket, running gloves, scarf
NOTES:

On my first day back in the saddle after taking two days off with the stomach flu, I have to say: I'm still not feeling great. On the way to work this morning, I alternated between feeling ravenously hungry and vaguely nauseous. My legs felt like they did when I would bike in very cold weather - thick, heavy, kind of numb, and simply incapable of going very fast. The muscles in my arms and shoulders ached mildly, still starving for replenishing nutrients and rest. I don't think it helped that it felt colder this morning than it has in a while, or that there was a bit more wind, or that I attempted my old residential-street route for the first time in months only to discover that there is still significant ice cover in some areas that really slowed me down. For all these reasons, I didn't make great time today, but I also wasn't expecting to. It felt like a triumph enough getting on the bike this morning.

On the way home, it wasn't much better. I stuck to the main roads again to avoid the ice, but instead found that the combination of physical exertion mixed with the heavy consumption of exhaust fumes left me feeling pretty nauseous at times. In the last several blocks of my route home, I even felt so weak in my arms and legs I wondered if I should pull over for a rest. I didn't because I was so close to home, but it was enough to make me wonder if I should give the biking a rest for this week until I've fully recuperated.

Did I mention that my daughter is teething right now? This has not helped with my efforts to rest well at night and get better.

At least I got some nice feedback today: I ran into a colleague and her sister the other day, and today my colleague told me that her sister thought my bike helmet looked rather becoming on me. She thought that I have a very pretty face, and she didn't realize it until she saw me with the helmet. Well, then! I'll go ahead and take that compliment! Who would have thought that my awkward helmet brought out my pretty? I'm thinking I should start wearing it everywhere . . .

Week Twenty-Eight - Day One: Sick Half-Day

At 2:00 am this morning, I woke up from my much-needed slumber with a pain in my stomach. "Good Lord," I thought to myself, "I'm 27 years old and I still have days that I overeat so much I want to throw up? Sure, it's kind of expected when my TODDLER does it - but me?" I tossed and turned, hoping the sickly feeling would go away, but it wouldn't. I eventually made my way to the bathroom. still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, just in time to bend over the toilet and vomit up what seemed like everything I'd eaten that day. I wretched and wretched until I could wretch no more. A cold sweat suddenly enveloped me and I started shaking. Huh. This doesn't feel like the my-tummy-hurts-because-I-overate kind of feeling.

I washed up and made my way back to bed, praying for sleep to come soon. Sadly, it did not. Over the course of the next several hours, I alternated between tossing and turning in bed with a sour stomach and running to the bathroom to throw up. I think I threw up maybe four times by 6:00 am, and since I'd emptied myself of anything meaningful with the first one, the next three times were mostly bile and dry heaves, typically accompanied by the sweats and the shakes.

When my daughter woke up ay 6:00 am, I got her out of bed and got her ready for the day, feeling like death the whole time. My joints ached. My head hurt. And worst of all, even after all that throwing up, I still felt nauseous. This would NOT be a biking day! I managed to get myself and my daughter out the door, dropped her off at daycare, and proceeded directly to the pharmacy for some Gravol and ginger ale. I got home, called in sick at work, took some medicine, and went straight back to bed. I didn't wake up until noon.

I still went to work in the afternoon, not because I was feeling so much better after my nap, but only because I need my hours. I managed to make it through the afternoon, but just barely. Now, back at home and after taking care of my daughter and putting her to bed, I'm dreading the thought of returning to work tomorrow. Today I managed to barely get through because I didn't have any clients in the afternoon - but tomorrow, I've got four clients back to back! How the Hell am I going to hold up if I'm feeling like this again??

Well, at least I won't be biking to work tomorrow. That's at least one thing I know for sure.