Saturday, August 4, 2012

Welcome to Poopville, Population 2

I just scratched my head before I started typing this. No joke. Not sure if my head itched or if I was thinking how do I start this post. It's been so long since I've written something like this. Kurt is in Florida so I have some free time on my hands. Actually that's a lie, I have less time on my hands since I am alone with Eleanor. I have always respected single parents, but caring for a sick child as one takes the respect to a whole new level. Eleanor has a little bit of a flu bug. I think she caught it from me earlier in the week bc I was pretty sick for a couple days. However, with her lower immune system, I think it's carrying on a little longer than we anticipated. 

So the title of this post pretty much sums up my time alone with Eleanor. She has been the victim of an extreme case of diarrhea and I've been the victim of an extreme case of cleaning it up. Every time she gets up from sleeping the sheets are smeared in her poop. I haven't changed her sheets in her whole life as much as I have since Kurt left for Florida. 

Last night we were playing a game, she would throw a small toy up in the air and I'd squeal. She LOVED it and kept doing it, laughing uncontrollably from my squeal. I would do anything to keep that girl laughing so we continued this game for a while. As she threw up the toy, she'd pop up a little in the air and then land on her bottom. With a loaded diaper, I'm sure you can imagine the consequences. I had NO IDEA she had gotten sick again however our new area rug was clued in way before me. Poop was splattered all over our black and white striped rug - which we had recently purchased (of course). 

Poopville has recently withstood quite a bit of hustle and bustle. This morning I was determined to not let the constant cleaning of poop slow me down. Eleanor and I went to the local Farmers Market to get some fresh fruit and cheese and then the park for some swing time. She was having a blast at the market - I had to quickly take her past the blueberries bc I didn't want her to have a melt down that she couldn't eat any of them at that moment. When we stopped at the park and I took her to the swings, she freaked out. She didn't want me to put her in the swing. I'm so bummed she doesn't like the swings. I really want to enjoy the swings with her, but it's not her cup of tea.

So I have been trying to exercise more of my gratitude muscles as of recent. When I'm complaining about something, I try to think of the bright side. For example, "I'm so stressed out with my job." I then flip it around to, "I am lucky enough to have a job and a job that I love makes me even luckier." So while I've been touring around Poopville these last few days, I've been thinking, "Man this is awful, poop all over me, all over her, all over the house." Then I do my flip and think how lucky I am to have a child. So many people try to have one and cannot. And then I have dug a little deeper. I have this beautiful daughter who unless you were to smell her butt, you wouldn't even know she was sick. She's so happy, so fun to be around and even better, I get her all to myself this weekend. No distractions from her devilishly good looking father, who by the way is her obsession. 

So there you have it. Looking at my situation at first glance, it's easy to see the obvious - it's been a "shitty" weekend without Kurt. But boy do I have everyone tricked. I'm reveling in my amazingly poopy weekend with my amazingly hysterical daughter. Nothing's stopping us. We might even do the zoo tomorrow morning, so take that Poopville!

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