That four-letter word up there is what V and I both want to do. Things have not been going well.
Patrick and Lilly have been not feeling well, and whinier and grumpier than I think I've ever seen them. Every meal is a battle. Lilly threw a fit in the car today because we passed a horse and then didn't pass any more. Usually they are rational. The past two days they've been acting like small annoying terrors. It makes me dread the rest of the week.
On V's end, Anne is teething, and her parents don't believe it or don't think it's bad. I guess they have to believe it, since a tooth just popped up, but they're not doing anything about what seems to be extreme pain. Last night, V stayed late, and I went over to help. Anne screamed for an hour solid - and we tried rocking her, feeding her, everything; it sounded like a pain cry. She finally stopped when V brought her down and I gave her a teething ring from the freezer. She glazed over like that for half an hour, and then we gave her infant tylenol (after trying to contact her parents and failing). Ten minutes later she was smiling and kicking her legs. Awake, but at least not wailing. According to V, she did the same thing this afternoon at naptime; she eventually went to sleep in the swing, but not before an hour of screams. And her parents don't give medicine, and don't like anyone to, unless there are specific doctor's orders.
I'm going crazy. V is going crazy. I hate my job right now. I hate being powerless. I hate having to deal with things I can't control. And people.
And I ate a giant piece of chocolate cake to make it all better, and now I just have a stomachache.