I won’t need to tell you more than this once that this is Annie writing because the next time you read a post you will recognize me right away (sarcasm and complaints)…lol.

The daycare called this morning saying the baby had diarrhea 3 times and had to be picked up.  Reluctantly I left work to pick him up.  Now, of course, since I’ve gotten home he’s pooped twice and only had diarrhea one of those times (hmm, is it weird that every post so far has included something about Quincy’s poop…lol).  And I digress – but last week I had to miss work again because he was sick and running a fever.  We took him to his pediatrician and the result was basically a stomach bug possibly brought on by the change to his new class.  Some background - they moved him up to the 2 year old class early because some child kept biting him and I went in there with a few words to say.  Now he’s in a new class and his first week there the teacher left.  Now he has a new teacher again.  So, of course, every morning when I drop him off, he screams and screams and clings to my pant leg and essentially makes me feel like the most horrible person ever to walk the face of the planet.  And really I could not describe this horrible daycare dilemma to you accurately unless you have children yourself.  Basically, it’s like this never ending circle.  You work for the money to feed them, but because you work, you have to find child care for them while you’re at work, and then you have to miss work, because they get sick from being around a million other kids with a million other germs all day long, and it goes on and on and on and on…and everyday you find yourself wishing more and more there was some way you could achieve some delicate balance to this whole situation and not spend every waking moment kicking the crap out of yourself for handing over your most precious asset to a bunch of strangers every morning.

Now, I know that Jose feels the same about all that I’ve just mentioned but he probably does not feel the same about what I’m about to say, thus I provide this disclaimer that these are my opinions only and they may not be endorsed by my husband of one month today (yay).  lol 

One of our major stresses right now is the care of my grandmother and his mother.  Since the rest of our family is unable to take care of either of these two wonderful women, the responsibility is on us.  Jose’s mom has been with us since we first got together but my grandma has only come to stay with us about 3-4 months ago.  My uncle used to take care of her up until he died about a year ago.  She was in bad shape before his death and now she is suffering from a bout of depression as well.  She’s having a hard time walking and anything more than a couple of steps to the bathroom is very difficult.  We are working to get her placed in an assisted living facility but the state funding is not great at the moment.  In the meantime she is staying with us getting physical therapy about 4 times a week. 

Everyday is a different day with her.  One day I think she’s well enough to just live forever in the recliner in our living room and then other days I’m worried that she may spend the rest of her life in the hospital.  I feel overwhelming amounts of guilt for getting annoyed at her very simple, yet numerous requests.  I feel overwhelming guilty that I had to be the one to take her in and make the decision about getting her a higher level of organized care.  And I feel angry, which used to be the hardest emotion to deal with but has been trumped now by exhaustion.  I feel angry that my grandmother is a mother of 13 children and she’s faced with this situation.  I’m not upset that no one wants to take on her care, because I don’t think anyone is really equipped to due to her deteriorating health, but I’m upset that no one seems to want to help.  I have one aunt who occasionally takes her for a few hours to give us a break, however, she’s the only one I can call.  Everyone else always has some excuse and they always want to do the fun stuff like take her to dinner but no one wants to do the hard stuff, like help bathe her or take her to doctor’s appointments or wait while she gets her hair done, etc, etc.  As you can see, it’s stressful to say the least.

When I came in this morning from picking up the baby, instantly it was a thousand requests of different things needed.  My frustration got the best of me and while I try not to let her see it, sometimes I fail at that.  I worry about her and I worry about how I can get her all the things she needs while making sure my son has everything he needs too.  When I took her to the doctor yesterday, we left with a follow-up with her primary care in 4 months and 4 new appointments with 4 different doctors (nerve conduction study, mammogram, eye check and more with the surgeon for her skin cancer).  Then if that wasn’t enough I got a call this afternoon about a sleep study appointment for next week.  Needless to say, I feel absolutely worried about how I will be able to juggle it all.

And Jose’s mom is still trying to recover from her surgery and is in constant pain.  That’s a whole story for another time.  Most of the time she’s a god-send around the house especially given the current situation but some times it’s hard for me to understand that she is also another woman in this house who has feelings and needs too.

:::deep breath::: It’s a lot (duh). 

I have to say that every night I find myself settling in to bed around 11:30ish asking God for more hours in the day and patience to do the things I can and let go of things that I cannot.  But for tonight, this is not going to happen.   The baby is already in bed, mother-in-law is settling in for the night, grandma’s in her recliner, Jose’s working on a contract job and it’s 9:54pm and mama is turning in early!  Thank God for the rare little moments when we do have a second to just breathe and forget the daily grind (at least until tomorrow).