Much improved, just send kleenex

I don't think I've ever gone this long without posting. I've been in a bit of a funk. A funk that really should have been cured by 2 weeks vacation in the U.S. and seeing JD. But that's not exactly how things worked out.

Just before we left for NYC I wrote and then immediately deleted a funny post about what an obsessive first-time mom I am. The type who sees three little spots on her daughter's arm, starts googling obsessively, and diagnosis her with the dreaded chick.en pox. I then called and woke my mom up at 5 am to consult, and she assured me that if there were only 3 spots and no more after 2 days it couldn't be the pox.

So I went back to Dr. Google and self-diagnosed spider bites, and then spent hours vacuuming and dusting (which was probably well needed). I did decide to cancel my lunch with a preggers friend, but rescheduled a playdate with a new acquaintance and her 2-year old.

All I can say is like moths to a flame. New-friend asked me about more children, and like normal I started in on my IF rant. New-friend smiled and told me she knows all about it because they did clomid and IUIs for months and finally got pregnant the month after they stopped. And WHEE! she's pregnant again! And she even got pregnant before and lost the baby but WHEE! she can get pregnant without drugs. And maybe I'll just 'get lucky' someday too. Needless to say I haven't been so keen to schedule a follow-up playdate here.

Fast forward to daycare drop off 24 hours before our scheduled departure for NYC (on a bus, a train, and 2 planes all filled with healthy, innocent bystanders). I walk into the fusspot's room and realize that she does indeed have the dreaded pox because 6 of her classmates are covered head to toe in oozing pox. Apparently here in Lalaland the pox is considered a normal childhood disease, they don't vaccinate, and they certainly don't send babies home from daycare with it ... even though the fusspot is in a room with 4 newborns (I can almost hear the gasp from across the ocean). So the pox it was, and I spent hours on the phone with her American pediatrican ("make sure to put her in long sleeves and a hat in case she breaks out more on the plane") and her local doctor ("I wouldn't say she's not contagious per se, but have a lovely va-kay") and feeling horribly, terribly guilty (sidenote: do non-vaccinaters feel guilty when they bring their sick children into public with potentially life-threatening diseases?). The problem is that I was using the return half of an early ticket and then the first half of a new return ticket to NYC and neither airline would budge on their rebooking fee and I really don't have an extra $2000 lying around, so not going would have meant not seeing JD for a full 8 months.

(The conversation went something like this: "I am about to bring my highly contagious baby on your flight. She could pose a serious risk to your other customers and flight attendants. I would like to reschedule - can you lower your fees at all?" "Nope - shoudda bought travel insurance woman" "Dude, can't buy travel insurance for a lapchild in the U.S." "Hahah, sucks to be you")

Bet you didn't know that diarrhea is a common side-effect of the pox in babies. It was a fun flight. I am eternally grateful that we were seated near no potentially-fertile woman on either flight (we were in fact surrounded by businessmen) so that I did not need to have that super-de-duper-awkward conversation ("Hi. I'm irresponsible parent just wondering if you might possibly be pregnant and if so about to recommend that you move seats immediately because my fusspot is currently in the highly contagious phase for a disease that could be serious for you." I will admit that since we've returned to Lalaland and since the pox epidemic seems to have spread through my entire city I am rather relieved to see pox-infected babies at the library, the supermarket, the fair - so apparently they just have a completely different notion about it.)

After a bus, a train ride, a 2.5 hour wait in an airport, a flight, a sprint through airport #2 to flight #2, a long transatlantic flight I got off the plane at JFK to discover that JD was 'working late' and I was greeted by my in-laws. My MIL coos over the fusspot, then turns to me and says "You look tired. I beat you'd be less tired if you stopped breastfeeding." Sigh.

Obviously we couldn't exactly hang out with our baby-friends in NYC for the first week. And JD was working. But we went down South to see my parents and saw the awesome Kate. Although my mother insisted on severely restricting who we saw during the holidays and where we went.

And then we went back to NYC and I woke up one morning with a bright red rash on my stomach. Yup, I got the pox. And guess what makes the adult pox even worse? If you are breastfeeding a baby who likes to touch and kick and scratch your ever-so-itchy stomach. Awesome. So then we canceled all of our rescheduled playdates, including seeing this incredible woman). And for the record, not only did I have the pox vaccine, but I actually had my titers checked pre-IF treatments because I truly am that obsessive.

So you get the idea of problem #1 with the visit: the pox.
Problem #2: JD.

I am starting to wonder if I have somehow stunted my darling husband's transition from single guy to new father by absconding abroad with the fusspot. Since I take care of the fusspot alone here in Lalaland, I had presumed (and stated rather clearly) that I expected this to be a vacation and for JD to take over a lot of the basic daily care (like diaper changes, meals, cutting her naisl, baths and getting up in the morning). And hence our problem. JD just didn't live up to my expectations, particularly when it came to getting out of bed. To be precise, I got to sleep in 2 days during my visit. Two days. That's it.

I did succeed in not cooking for 2 weeks straight, but that's something I can almost achieve here by just resigning myself to eating toast and hard-boiled eggs. It's the extra sleep I was really looking forward to, and it didn't happen. And I had also e-mailed JD and list of things to do in preparation for our arrival, like, say, clean. And yet there were bunny-sized dustballs on the floor so I landed up spending hours cleaning on my vacation. And the honest truth is I resent it. And he resents that I don't appreciate how hard his job is and the crazy hours he works and that he feels like he has to stay at this job to support the fusspot and I (and to pay back his crazy student debts. When his friend said something about "oh, like $50,000" and we both laughed because that would be a point of major celebration). And while I know that his job is far from ideal, he still usually gets a full day per week off. And he can sleep in every day (many professional jobs in NYC start much later than the rest of the world). And he can shower everyday. And read the news in peace. And just up and decide he wants to go out for a drink after work and do that. Alone.

So we are both resentful. Although conscious enough that JD was quite clear that we need to work on our marriage. And then I packed up a suitcase of yummy American food (baking powder! chocolate chips!) and headed back to Lalaland with a healthy fusspot and a very itchy stomach. And 48 hours after returning to her daycare the fusspot started literally dripping snot every couple of minutes.

So much improved, but send kleenex.
And you really ought to get a prize for reading to the end.