Monday, March 11, 2013

allergic to bullshit

Oh, this weekend. Where do I even begin?

Friday started out lovely, like any other day. Hubby went off to work, and we were going about our regular routine.

Until.. I started to itch. In one hour flat my entire body was covered with hives and I could barely sit still, I was itching so bad. Hubby took a sick day to come home and take care of the baby so I could go to urgent care. I despise the doctor, but as far as visits go, this one was pretty painless. I got in quickly, the doctor saw me quickly (He literally said, "Yup. Pretty bad case of hives. No idea what caused them. Have some steroids" These people go to medical school for how long?)

Anyhoo, got home after being pumped full of steroids and Benadryl, and blissfully slept the remainder of the day away. I haven't slept that long in 3 months, and it was fab. 

Sunday was the best day. And also the most stressful.

We got up early to head to church for the first time since D was born. Getting out of the house with a baby is a struggle, but getting out with a time crunch? Brutal. We made it to church about 5 minutes late, and finally sat down to breathe for a minute. The nursery only takes 6 month olds and up, so D was with us. He lasted about an hour, then we had to stealthily slip out because he was really trying to make his presence known. Maybe he has a future in public speaking?

Then we rushed home, because Hubby was sooo ready to get to the beach. We loaded up the car with 

And then tried to strap the surfboard to the roof racks.
Not happening. It was simply not stable enough. After about an hour of that, we decided we would make it fit in the car. I won't bore you with the ridiculousness of that, but we did finally manage to fit the following into a 4 door sedan:
A 7 foot long surfboard
A car-seat
A beach tent
A bassinet
My HUGE diaper bag
A backpack with wetsuit, etc.
Beach chairs
2 fully grown adults

Phew. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. 

We finally get to the beach, and it is a warm, beautiful day. Except for the fact that there are like, gale force winds. We always forget the weather at the beach is 10 degrees cooler and 50% windier than it is at our house.

The only photo I managed to get, due to all the crazy in my general vicinity.

So Hubby goes ahead of me to set up the beach tent, so we can keep the baby out of the wind. I load up with what I can carry, with D in the baby carrier, and head out to meet him. 
He is having a rough time. This thing is like a full on tent, with poles and stakes and such. It's usually very easy to set up, but not with humongous winds. It kept trying to fly away, kite-style. It was almost comical. So I try to help him, but I'm not doing much good with a baby strapped to me.

The beach is crowded with people.
They are all STARING.
Not one single person offered to help.

Can you believe that? A young couple with a baby, obviously struggling, and not a single person helped. Sometimes I loose faith in humanity.

But it gets even better.
We get all set up, and Hubby heads out to surf. He's doing a great job, but keeps getting farther and farther down the beach. 

One of the women who was just watching us set up and did not offer to help, decided that she'd saunter on over and offer up her opinion instead. 

"Do you see him anymore?" She asks.
"No." I say. "But I'm sure he's fine."
"I don't know... I had a friend in Rhode Island who drowned while surfing, you wouldn't want that happening to him." She says.

At this point I'm just staring at her in disbelief. "He's fine." I repeat again.

"I used to be a water safety specialist. He's probably caught in a rip current. If he starts drowning, you can't go out there and try to save him"

I know what you're thinking. I know. I'm speechless.

I say, "Well, I certainly wouldn't just stand here and watch him drown."

And can you believe this crazy broad said to me, "Don't worry. We'd hold you down if we had to. We wouldn't let you go out there."
(Psycho. Seriously.)

THEN she says, "That baby is awful young to be out here, and he doesn't have nearly enough clothes on." 

Then she walks away.


A. You were not concerned about our well-being when we were struggling to get the tent up.
B. It is none of your damn business if my husband wants to surf further down the beach.

(I feel inclined to tell you at this point that the baby was wearing a full body-suit, a sweatshirt, pants, socks, a beanie hat over his ears and a sun hat over that, and was in the tent, out of the sun with no wind, wrapped in a blanket in his bassinet. And it was 70 degrees and windy. If anything, he was probably a little warm. I am not a bad parent.) 

After these jokers leave, the rest of the day proceeds peacefully, until, lo and behold, I break out in hives again. 

I could show you a picture. But I won't. 

We head home, since I'm obviously on the verge of anaphylactic shock. 
I wake up again this morning, covered head to toe in hives.

Maybe I'm allergic to bullshit?

And that, folks, was my weekend.


  1. I would have FLIPPED out on that crazy woman. I admire your patience. Hope you figure out what you're allergic to!

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