I hate Mondays for a multitude of reasons. The laundry hampers and the trash are always overflowing, the kids are usually grouchy from missing naps on the weekend, and we always hate facing the next long workweek without Mr. Husband.
This weekend had the perfect storm of
Closing a show. Does that mean we're out of the woods now? Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the opportunity to make some extra money for our family and keep up my professional skills, but playing musicals takes such a toll on our family. I'm out late for many nights in a row and a zombie during the day, the housework suffers, my patience with the kids fizzles, and I don't see much of Mr. Husband.
Taking the kids to visit the in-laws. I'm fortunate that my in-laws are really nice and don't live super far away from us. Sir Toddler in particular gets to enjoy running around a yard that isn't mined with dog poop and has insane luxury features like BACKYARD WATER SPIGOTS THAT ARE HOOKED UP TO ACTUAL PIPES and thus can be used to fill kiddie pools. (Our single spigot is in the front of our unit and hooked up to...nothing! But our practical joke of an apartment is worthy of its own post.) Mr. Husband and I can relax while our kids enjoy their grandparents, and in general these visits aren't a bad thing at all. But spending a day at a normal house also reminds me of our apartment's many shortcomings, and a day away from home means no housework gets done after a musical week where nothing got done either.
This is only a quarter of the mess that was adorning our living room this morning.
Our ceiling was sanded. Over a year ago, an ice dam in a pipe draining through the ceiling (?!) caused water to come through the ceiling in the kitchen. Although our landlord was prompt in fixing the leak and patching the ceiling, the extra step of sanding had to wait until everything was dry. He told us to remind him to come finish the job, but it's amazing how quickly you get used to looking at a patch in your ceiling and forget to send that reminder. In any case, we finally remembered to remind him, so the ceiling is fixed, but now EVERYTHING in the kitchen is covered in a fine white powder...floor, furniture, pots and pans, baby toys...EVERYTHING. This means extra chores on top of the normal chores that have been building up. I kind of miss that ceiling patch.
But all of this would be tolerable if it weren't for
Queen Baby, ruiner of sleep and all that is sanity. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in over three weeks. Right up until then, Lady Infant was starting to sleep six and seven hour stretches. Then some sixth sense must have alerted her to my upcoming show, and she decided the night before the sitzprobe to start waking up every two to three hours. I assumed this was a growth spurt, so I fed her and put her back to sleep with each waking for a few nights and assumed it would get better when she got through it.
But it hasn't gotten better. It's gotten worse.
Three weeks. Three bleeping weeks enduring hours of screaming despite all the rocking and binky-holding-in that we can muster. Mr. Husband's and my conversations have gone from "she'll just have to fuss it out" to "maybe we can sleep in the living room tonight? or put her Pack'n'Play in the basement?"
So it's a Monday to out-Monday all other Mondays, and I'm fighting the good fight against the worst pessimistic, self-pitying baditude I've had in a while. How do you get through the Monday blues?
This weekend had the perfect storm of
Closing a show. Does that mean we're out of the woods now? Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the opportunity to make some extra money for our family and keep up my professional skills, but playing musicals takes such a toll on our family. I'm out late for many nights in a row and a zombie during the day, the housework suffers, my patience with the kids fizzles, and I don't see much of Mr. Husband.
Taking the kids to visit the in-laws. I'm fortunate that my in-laws are really nice and don't live super far away from us. Sir Toddler in particular gets to enjoy running around a yard that isn't mined with dog poop and has insane luxury features like BACKYARD WATER SPIGOTS THAT ARE HOOKED UP TO ACTUAL PIPES and thus can be used to fill kiddie pools. (Our single spigot is in the front of our unit and hooked up to...nothing! But our practical joke of an apartment is worthy of its own post.) Mr. Husband and I can relax while our kids enjoy their grandparents, and in general these visits aren't a bad thing at all. But spending a day at a normal house also reminds me of our apartment's many shortcomings, and a day away from home means no housework gets done after a musical week where nothing got done either.
This is only a quarter of the mess that was adorning our living room this morning.
Our ceiling was sanded. Over a year ago, an ice dam in a pipe draining through the ceiling (?!) caused water to come through the ceiling in the kitchen. Although our landlord was prompt in fixing the leak and patching the ceiling, the extra step of sanding had to wait until everything was dry. He told us to remind him to come finish the job, but it's amazing how quickly you get used to looking at a patch in your ceiling and forget to send that reminder. In any case, we finally remembered to remind him, so the ceiling is fixed, but now EVERYTHING in the kitchen is covered in a fine white powder...floor, furniture, pots and pans, baby toys...EVERYTHING. This means extra chores on top of the normal chores that have been building up. I kind of miss that ceiling patch.
But all of this would be tolerable if it weren't for
Queen Baby, ruiner of sleep and all that is sanity. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in over three weeks. Right up until then, Lady Infant was starting to sleep six and seven hour stretches. Then some sixth sense must have alerted her to my upcoming show, and she decided the night before the sitzprobe to start waking up every two to three hours. I assumed this was a growth spurt, so I fed her and put her back to sleep with each waking for a few nights and assumed it would get better when she got through it.
But it hasn't gotten better. It's gotten worse.
Three weeks. Three bleeping weeks enduring hours of screaming despite all the rocking and binky-holding-in that we can muster. Mr. Husband's and my conversations have gone from "she'll just have to fuss it out" to "maybe we can sleep in the living room tonight? or put her Pack'n'Play in the basement?"
So it's a Monday to out-Monday all other Mondays, and I'm fighting the good fight against the worst pessimistic, self-pitying baditude I've had in a while. How do you get through the Monday blues?
UGH! The sleep deprivation is the WORST. I feel you, sister. I'll be sending up some prayers for Lady Infant to get her sleep back on track. And for you!!!! Also laughing out loud at "she'll just have to fuss it out" to "maybe we can sleep in the living room tonight? or put her Pack'n'Play in the basement?"
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Lady Infant is a fan of the poet Dylan Thomas..."do not go gentle into that good night..."
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