Things could be worse ...

At the risk of sounding all cheese and whine I will be listing some of the things that have happened during the last month or so that could have (and in some instances did, albeit ever so briefly) send me over the edge. Help yourself:

1. Sleep. Not getting any.

When I'm not typing away furiously, making all kinds of notes and records for some nebulous future -- wherein Ittybit will grow up, read all this drivel and extol the virtues of her dear old mum to the treetops -- I am trying go get her to accept her human need for shut-eye: namely the eight-hour-interval, non-disrupted sleep with a side of REM if-you-please kind of slumber.

It's been a kind of one step forward, two steps back sort of dance.

While I pine for the luxury of sleeping in that enormous bed I once foolishly mocked, I've been practicing for a future career in the circus, performing various coil-like contortions from the cramped confines of a toddler bed for a combined total of three hours (at least twice) per evening, in a probably ill-advised effort to coax her to sleep.

If this continues much longer I fear I will require constant chiropracty, or at the very least a change in bedroom furniture for the little insomniac. I wonder if they make king-sized toddler beds?

2. Baby? What Baby?

Oh sure Thing 2 is doing swimmingly so far. ... But the Heartburn is back. I was expecting its grand return in two months but it surprised me with only a two-week respite followed by that familiar burning sensation when I sit up, lie down, lean over, drink water, eat anything or just think about any of the previous activities for even the briefest lengths of time.

And not only has gestational Heartburn made its return, it's brought with it a new friend: Nasal Congestion. So Burns and Phlegm are best buds, and are working on creating a tri-part alliance with my arch nemesis, Insomnia.

This is not what I had in mind when I envisioned a Bundle of Joy. This would be JOY without the J.

3. Child care. ... What are you gonna do?

So it turns out my perfect childcare situation just got a little less perfect. The woman I have referred to here as “The Other Mother” reminded me that she’s only got so much room in her unregistered house for tots. And this new one … isn’t going to fit.

*Cue metallic horror film sound effects.

In a matter or seconds I went from happily pregnant, working mother providing health insurance and a stable income to her growing family, to the fear of being on the brink of financial ruin because finding an infant daycare placement is akin to finding a needle in a haystack.

So while that drama is still unfolding, the initial panic has subsided thanks in part to the holding out of hope that there is a daycare facility out there willing to take a smart-alecky toddler who thinks monsters are the next best thing to puppy dogs ... even if it breaks my heart to break up the party.

In my best Scarlet O'Hara way, "I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow."

4. If you don't stop, I'm pulling this car over

That thumping sound that I was ignoring from mile marker 34 of Interstate 787 to mile marker 44, when the car started to disco, was indeed a blowout.
This was no mere flat party but a pieces-of-rubber-littering-the-highway kind of bash.

I could complain that it was the coldest day of the year, and that I dreaded having to walk on the treacherous highway to safety and a phone, seeing as how I never did replace the cell phone’s car charger since it broke last month –- but I didn't even have the chance to feel the least bit sorry for myself.

No sooner had I stepped from the car after digging out my hat and mittens -- and cobbling together enough juice from the broken charger to get even the smallest of small signals -- than the brilliant flashing lights of the Help Truck pulled up behind me.

In 10 minutes I was back on the road, headed to the tire shop.
I have to say, it's a little disconcerting for a person like me not to have enough time to worry about all the what-ifs.