Fifty Shades of Black

I rather feel the pain of a broken bone than have the flu for even a day and because of this, of course, I get the flu! I get the flu, 3 hrs later my hubs gets the flu, followed by my sister... all in a small 1 bathroom apartment all night long! Ha that was fun, said no one EVER! Trying to take care of an 8 month old baby who is cranky herself, mostly because she probably doesn't feel good either, with nursing in between every horribly ungracious attempt to give my guts to the toilet I, after 36 hours, made it out alive... By alive I mean I was breathing, but the massive fever had me laid out for the rest of that given day! With that fever's farewell dehydration took hand-in-hand my milk with it. No worries, with mass amount of fluids and stimulation pumping it came back, thank goodness! Is my baby old enough that she would be just fine without nursing, yes, but when I am a working mother and that is all I can do for her to comfort her, when that is our time to bond after the day passed with no momma, I will be damned if anyone or anything will take that away until I am ready, furthermore, until she is ready. It's the one thing that I can do for her that no one else in the world can and yes I may be at extremes, but when I have to give up so much right now to provide the life I want for her, I will not give up anything that is in my control. I am her momma and nothing can take that away from me!

This however, was just one shade of black. I wake the next morning following my fever and all signs point up, ha not! I had no voice and I involuntarily allowed my lungs to get wrapped in a spider’s web and find exit through my throat...aka, Bronchitis! Fabulous! 

I get home from work where we worked all day short-handed, where I had to stay an extra half hour to help, and then hit rush hour on my way home. My spotless house that I had cleaned and disinfected in the spare time I had using any energy I could find before I went back to 7 days of work( I had to search really hard for that energy) was a disaster. Trying not to cry and completely lose it I took a couple deep breaths and held my baby. Her excitement and spastic movements in my arms pushed aside my upset thoughts and we played! 

It's supper time. Too exhausted to cook I throw some frozen meatloaf and funeral potatoes from my deep freeze that my grams made into the oven. (Bless her heart) Okay, you know when you scribble with a pencil on a piece of paper holding down on the wood with as much pressure as you can to get the darkest shade of scribbles? Well, that is where supper took us. I told my husband to watch the baby and I would dish up food for him and bring it to him (yes we are eating in the living room because I was far too tired to set the table). My sister also dished up. I tasted supper as it is one of my favorite meals and practically start a replay of said previous encounters with the toilet. Both had probably 10 bags of full size onions in them. I HATE HATE HATE onions. Never liked them, never will! This to me was the end of the world, but with teary eyes I shook it off and put a bird’s size portion on my plate hoping to pick out the onions and maybe get a bite or two. Moments later Shel is in the kitchen. We walk back into the living room and my baby has spilled all of my newly opened dr.pepper all over my brand new floor rug (the rug I bought for her to crawl on so she didn't crawl on gross rental apartment carpets.) One of my finer moments as a mother, I bought this carpet in a dark brown on the edges and light white/tan in the middle. Guess where the pop spilled?? Yuuup, right beside the blow out poopy diaper or poopy carpet I should say!!! This was the final straw. I had tried so hard to stay composed but I lost it. My hubs let me vent without much word as I cleaned up the mess trying to hold back the tears. However, my sister hadn't learned that I don't want to be talked down or bothered just let me carry-on as I may and it'll pass. Needless to say I ended with an apology. 

As the steamy water poured down on me in hopes it would wash away all the bad the week entailed. It didn't, and I wept. In my hands, in the shower, for a good length of time, I simply cried. After I cried, I prayed! After I prayed, I cried! 

Not all days are bad...but even after the bad I still have my family who depend on me and need me. Turns out, I need them 1000 times more. They challenge me, they force me to see how strong I am and see my independence, sometimes they push me passed what I believe my threshold is, but when I think I am done they are the first ones cheering at the finish line as I drag myself across. I can do this and I will do this. They bring me pure joy no matter the day or the shade of black.

*come what may and love it!*