Nothing like a UTI to change your plans. It was supposed to be a writing day, all to myself, the kind of day I’ve started thinking of as a delicious day. But when my 5 year old starting crying “owwie” every time she peed (on the floor), I knew it wasn’t going to be that delicious.
12:05 a.m. Pee accident. Change Z’s pajamas, lay a towel over the puddle, lie back down in it and go back to sleep, Z snuggled next to me.
3:20 a.m. The puppy falls out of bed. Not a lot of room for Z, me, and the dog on Z’s twin bed. It’s a long night.
7:30 a.m. Kids are up, second pee accident of the day, I make pancakes, get my 7-year-old ready for KidsCo since school is out for President’s Day week.
8:45 a.m. Third pee accident.
9:05 a.m. Negotiate a 7-year-old’s quiet angst after he realizes none of his friends are going to be at KidsCo this week. (They all seem to be in Hawaii. Why aren’t we in Hawaii?) Scrape dog shit out of the treads of his shoes.
9:30 a.m. Clean the dog shit that my son tracked into the minivan. Decide I might as well really *clean* the minivan, which looks like something out of a comic strip about a family with young children. This involves the shopvac and extension cords and is a big pain in the ass.
10:30 a.m. Fourth pee accident. Start to worry about having enough changes of clothes. Plan what I’m going to cook next out of Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home, which I’m starting to think might be a sucky cookbook. Make up a shopping list.
11 a.m. Set out for the doctor, thank god. The doctor, who probably hadn’t even been born when I had my first UTI – back when my life included condoms and diaphragms and goop that my bits didn’t appreciate – tells me all about UTIs.
12 p.m. Wait and wait and wait for the prescription. Nearly have a fifth pee accident. Take the first dosage right in the pharmacy. I swear Z feels better before she’s even finished swallowing.
1 p.m. Decide we can chance the grocery store with a spare set of clothes in my bag. Spend $175 on groceries. This includes a new pink Tshirt for Z (is there any other color?) and a Hexbug that Z wants to get her big brother (she says). I haven’t quite shaken the dual-income mindset of buying whatever. Next week the goal is to spend less than $175 on groceries for the family for the week. No idea if that is outrageously high or low or what, but I have a baseline.
3:00 p.m. Start unpacking groceries. Decide there’s no way I can unpack into a dirty refrigerator. Take everything out of the refrigerator, wash the shelves, throw away gross, old condiments, develop a system for how the refrigerator is organized. Everything fits into the refrigerator and I know where (and what!) everything is. When is this over-eager Hausfrau thing going to wear off? It’s wearing me out.
4 p.m. Pick my son up from KidsCo. He’s busy and happy and doesn’t want to go home yet. I guess he got over his morning’s angst.
4:22 p.m. Hexbug is lost.
5 p.m. Make “Udon Noodles with Vegetables” for dinner. The recipe called for “dark sesame oil” which I can’t seem to find in Seattle, so I substituted “sesame oil.” I wonder if it’s the same thing. Martin, my partner, says dinner is “okay” but keeps talking about how it has a funny smell. Which it does. The kids won’t touch it. Another big bowl of something out of that Moosewood cookbook that I have to eat all by myself.
8 p.m. Dishes are done, kids brushed, read to, and in bed. Z’s had a second dosage of antibiotics. She still says “owwie” when she pees, but no more tears. I’m in my own bed, puppy at my feet (under the covers), Kindle in hand. I’m exhausted. Couldn’t do this every day. Oh shit…