It's Raining, It's Pouring

I am writing this post from Jim's computer because I don't have one anymore.  My house is currently 83 degrees and I am miserably hot because our conditioner keeps breaking.  My kids have been sick for an entire week with sore throats, fevers, vomiting and diarrhea, and Brennan missed his last two days of kindergarten.  To say that this has been a hard week is a major understatement.

(If you aren't too depressed to stay with me, here are some of the details:)

Last Saturday when I tried to turn on my computer, it just wouldn't turn on.  The Geek Squad (aka Jim) looked at it, and he there was nothing we could do.  He saved my hard drive and all of my work, photos, etc., but the machine itself was dead.  It is four years old, and I honestly don't know if a day has ever gone by that I haven't used it.  All of that use and abuse was bound to catch up with us sooner or later, but I just wasn't prepared.

I started writing a blog post a week or two ago about how I have been saving money for the last six months for my first decent camera.  I have wanted to own a good camera and take classes for about sixteen years now, and in December I decided that it was time to embrace the dream, even if it took a year to save enough mad money.  I have done lots of research, talked off the ears of several of my photographer friends, and saved about $450, but it now looks like I will need to give up on the camera yet again and put the money towards a new computer.  It's dumb, but it has actually made me cry.

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When we were building our house, we questioned the single air conditioning unit that was supposed to cool our 3000+ square foot house.  We were assured that it was an Energy Star home and didn't need more than one unit.  Even though we were skeptical, we bought the hype.  Two years and many issues later, we wish we had trusted our instincts.  We now have a technician making a house call at 9:00 on a Saturday night.  He is telling us that some freon will "get us by" until a store opens on Tuesday.  This just had to happen on Memorial Day Weekend.

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Last Sunday when I got up for church, Brennan told me his stomach felt yucky and he was hot.  He had a fever and it was decided that he would stay home with Jim while Cora, Seth, and I went to church.  As we were getting ready to leave, Cora vomited all over the floor.  The next seven days were a roller coaster ride of one kid getting better while the other showed new symptoms.  I am hopeful tonight that everyone is on the mend, but I don't know what to think anymore.

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If I were reading this on someone else's blog, I'd be tempted to tell them that it will all get better soon.  And it's probably true.  But today, for me, it doesn't feel like it.  Every day is a struggle with cranky kids and new challenges.  I feel disconnected.  I feel overwhelmed.  I feel like nothing in my life is mine right now.  I can't wear any of my own clothes.  I can't have a conversation without being interrupted thirty-six times.  I can't send an email until my husband gets home at night with a computer.  I can't run errands or go anywhere without thinking through everyone's schedules.  I can't even go to bed at night to get a break.   I can't continue to pursue the one thing I was doing for me without sacrificing major sanity points.

I know it's all temporary.  I've survived the newborn stage two other times and know that it is fleeting.  But when I'm sitting in a sauna house with cranky kids who want to watch another television show and my middle child throws a tantrum and refuses to go upstairs and take a nap and I lose track of how much powdered sugar I've put in my recipe and I can't get onto my computer to look up said recipe, and my newborn needs to nurse, I just feel like I am going to crack.

Last night a couple of friends took me out to dinner to celebrate my birthday, and I felt like I was watching the whole evening through a piece of thick glass.  I heard every word and enjoyed my friends completely, but I didn't feel like a participant.  I couldn't laugh with my whole heart, I couldn't relax, and I couldn't think of anything witty to say.  I worried the whole time that they were thinking, "Melissa hasn't been very fun in about a year.  I don't want to hang out with her anymore."  I hope that's not true because I need tons of support right now.

I am eager to get everyone well, find a summer schedule that works for us (I had just found my stride and then the school year ended!), and start being fun again.  Maybe I need to go line dancing or kayaking or something new this fall when I don't have a baby tethered to my breast.  Who's in?  :-)