Pity party... table for one

I know I'm running the risk of this blog becoming one big whine session. Or whinge session as my Australian friends would say (we were good friends with a couple from Australia when we lived in SF... their expressions always tickled me). But it's my blog and I'll whine if I want to.

Because I don't have the time/money for a therapist.

So what has me on a groin-kicking rampage today?

-Last night was another beating of a night. No night terrors this time, but lows and a crying baby. And no Fred to help out.

-I called Mattias's pedi for something like the third time this week, screeching that someone needs to fix my baby and make him eat. Since she has already seen him and feels there's nothing more for her to do, we've been referred to a GI doc. Who can't see us for a week and a half. We've also been referred for "Feeding Therapy". Whatever the crap that is. It sounds expensive.

-This is just so eerily like the start of Elise's dx, it has me in panic mode. Calling the pedi because "something" was wrong. We were referred to a specialist... that time it was a kidney doc.

-Nothing is happening on our house and it looks like we'll loose the other one (plus all the money we've put into things like inspections, etc). I am so sad over this I can't even tell you. I know if it is meant to be... blah, blah, blah. It still doesn't make it sting any less.

-I am out of marshmellow/caramel chocolate eggs. You know, the ones by Russell Stover? Oh my, they are like little bites of heaven. Two days ago, I had six. Now they are all gone. Thank goodness we've packed away the scale and I can't see the impact that all this stress-eating is having on my waistline.

To prove this isn't a one-way street of whining, feel free to comment and leave a note about something that is making you want to kick someone in the groin. Come on, join me! There's room for more at my table.