I Don't Even Know What To Title This Craziness...

The last 48 hours of my life were pretty wretched, although it makes for a witty, exciting blog. It started with my commute to work on Monday. On a normal morning, I can cruise on 83 for the first 5 miles or so until I hit the Northern Parkway exit and then we slow down to a turtle's pace for the rest of the journey.

On a day like Monday, it was literally bumper to bumper traffic the moment I got on 83. I have noticed that this phenomenon occurs about once every two weeks on average. It is usually due to some small fender bender...but on Monday what was the issue?

The fender bender was on the OTHER side of the median friends. Yes, traffic on my side of the Jones Fall Expressway was not merging into one lane, or having to go around police cars or flares. Nope. We were all just a bunch of nosey people wanting to see the action on the other side of the road.

Side Note: I will always maintain that if you are not going to get out to help, say a quick prayer, or call 911 then what is the point??? Really. Why my sweet Lord in Heaven, why do we have to rubber neck? There's just NO NEED!

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly until my commute home. I had foolishly decided to drink not one, but two large glasses of water and then top it all off with a diet soda. Good idea, JB?

Wrong-o.

I was stuck in so much traffic that evening. I was almost in tears as I watched us move at a snail's pace. Much like the morning commute, my last few miles on 695 are pretty fast moving on a normal evening. But on this particular night. It literally took me 20 minutes to go about a mile. I am not kidding.

So, here I was. In tears. Clamping. Wiggling. Tempted to pee in the empty Dunkin Donuts cup. Wanting to just take any exit, but 695 was such a parking lot, it would have taken me just as long to scoot off on another exit, especially since there is only one or so before my exit as soon as I merge onto it.

Oh friends. It was awful.

Literally, I parked when I got home, ran upstairs to my apartment and screamed as I passed my roommate on the couch (whom I have not seen in days due to the Thanksgiving holiday)

"CAN'T TALK. GOTTA PEE. CAN'T TALK. GOTTA PEEEEEE!!!"

Believe me, she's used to my silly tactics.

Ok, fast forward to Tuesday morning. Praying that the commute would be easier, I was excited that we were moving quickly, even around the Northern Parkway madness.

But then we get to Lombard Street. My right hand turn into the city. But on Tuesday, there was a police barracade blocking the way. Immediately, I am thinking:

1) Uhhh, I don't know any other way to turn into the city (I'm like a trained seal. A one-trick pony. A creature of habit, so to speak. Teach me to do it one way and that's pretty much how I will do it every time). So, ummm what now?

2) Everyone else is going to have the same idea (do a U-turn so that we can turn into the city on Fayette Street instead)


And friends. That's exactly what we did. Between the lights that last literally 10 seconds and everyone merging into the one and only turn lane, I am not telling a falsehood when I say I inched my way into the city! And, by the time I was approaching Light Street, I am passing Lombard from the other direction and it is now open to traffic.

So, I call my employer to let her know I will be late. I hate being late for anything, especially when I give myself time to get somewhere on time . Plus, I was going to be watching the neighbor's kids too. So, that means I had to call her and disappoint her for my lack of respect on her time. I cringe at the thought. Anywho, I forgot to mention the stomach flu...


Monday night I was finishing dinner and took the last bite and I felt this immediate rush of grossness. Cramping. Nausea. Hot flashes. Oh no.

I went to bed, hoping to sleep it off. No such luck. I tossed and turned all night. And everytime I woke up, the cramping was still there. Not good for JB.

So then I go to wake up. Not only did I pass on my usual 3 M and M's I eat every morning before work, but I didn't even want the chocolate in the advent calendar. I get up and the room is spinning. I am literally dripping in sweat. I am green as all get out. I am feeling like I am going to get sick all over myself. So, like any other moron, I get dressed and head to work.

I get to the house with three screaming children. Running, laughing, playing. I can barely move. I am sitting through these waves of nausea. I am cramping on and off. I am trying to not move. Hard to do with two toddlers and a baby. I am hoping that it will all just soon pass.

Then lunchtime hits and a hot flash the kind I have only heard about from my mother hits me. I am going to be sick. Room spins. I strip down to my t-shirt. Glands are producing way too much saliva. And Evie has decided she wants applesauce.

So, here I am bending over the kitchen sink (No time to hit the bathroom it came on that quick) and I am hearing her behind me:

"Applesauce. Applesauce. APPLESAUCE. APPLEEEESAAAAAAUCE. I WANT APPLESAAAAAAAAAAUUUUCCCCEEEE."

Connor is jumping off the furniture in the living room. And thankfully the baby is sleeping peacefully in her crib.

But Really? Seriously?

Ugh.

Well, needless to say I got ahold of all the parentals. And left for the day to go home and sleep it off. And may I say my commute at 1:00 PM was absolutely delightful!