Spring Break from EI. aka: What life was life before.

The Zoo!

The Museum!

The Playdates!

The spontaneous fun!

A small part of me says screw it! Scale down the therapies, and let him be a kid...

The war between dropping out and sticking with it continues...

EI-EI-O

We are not talking Old MacDonald here.

EI.

I hate it.

I love it.

I love it.

I hate it.

I hate freshly showered therapists judging my piles of laundry, unfolded.

My unswept floor covered in cherrios.

The dog hair on my rug.

The only therapist that "gets" it...is a mom on her own. Ms. Wonderful, Moose's first OT.

But one, Ms. Snide.

I see her sneer.

Look.

Judge.

Make snide comments.

Just wait til u have kids.

A revision on an EI decision...

I'd rather have a 3rd Csection than have this.

After seven months of no problems breastfeeding the Hog...

a duct plugs.

A fever spikes.

Chills and nausea.

Yeah. Mastitis.

And I was faced today with ten hours alone, at the tail end of a Chicago winter, with two kids under three. Feeling hours from death.

Normally, I'd call in the second string (Nana Magic) to rid me of my mothering duties, but she's floating on a cruise ship.

So, I paid a visit to Sesame Street with Moose while Hog napped. With Moose nestled in the crook of my arm and 600mg of advil with a heating pad on my left boob, it could have been worse.

After his Elmo coma, both kids napped.

There is a God.

And I'd like to take him to lunch and thank him for sychronizing my kids' naps...