Shit, figurative and literal

All day at work I deal with shit in the figurative sense. Today I got to come home and deal with it in the literal sense. I don't know if J has a little bug or he just ate something that disagreed with him, but daycare called to let me know he'd had two flaming poops (three by the time I got there). He came home today with a bag full of clothes in desperate need of a wash, which I tossed in (shoes and all) with a lot of Spray 'n Wash Pink (greatest invention ever) and some detergent and hoped for the best. (It all turned out sparkly clean - again, Spray 'n Wash Pink is good stuff, I wish I'd thought of it.) He kept telling me he didn't feel good and that his stomach hurt. Anytime my kid is content to eat applesauce and crackers for supper, it's a pretty good bet he's not operating at 100%. Two more rounds of poop before bedtime, resulting in one change of bed linens and one (more) bath, and I'm fairly tired of the literal shit. J sacked out a little before 9:30. I just hope he sleeps all night without any more go-rounds with poop - I'm just not up to changing a sheet at 3 AM. And I want him to feel better - it hurts my heart to see him feeling poorly, and I could tell tonight that he wasn't his usual exuberant self. I'd see flashes of that exuberance occasionally, but he wasn't operating at his usual high speed. I hope he gets a good night's sleep, poop-free, because the rest will probably go a long way toward helping him feel better.

Today has been a really hard day. Nothing specifically bad happened, I just woke up with a bad attitude. Horrible, in fact. I didn't care about anything on my desk, and that's not good. But there's no soul satisfaction in my job, and the moments when I feel like I do anything that's appreciated are few and far between. I'd say that for me, it's almost the opposite of soul satisfaction, it's soul-destroying. I'm not sure how much of it is work, how much is stress in general, whether the Wellbutrin isn't working as well as it used to, some kind of hormonal swing from having that time of the month show up two weeks early (lovely!), all of the above, or what, but I found myself on the verge of tears more times today than I can count. And it wasn't over anything major, it was over stuff that on a normal day wouldn't faze me at all. But I'm so tired of having to talk to so many people who aren't happy with the services we provide. I'm tired of having to try to explain things that I don't feel at all qualified to explain (and that I really don't think should be part of my job description). My blood pressure is still up, to a point where it's cause for concern, even with the Wellbutrin seemingly helping me to manage stress (well, with the exception of today), and I'm sure it's in good part because of work (there are quite a few co-workers who have health issues, some more serious than others, and it's not really the norm, I don't think, to have *that* many people with that many health issues working in the same place). Exercise would probably help, too, but I'm thinking that if I worked at a job that didn't wig me out so much, I wouldn't have this issue. I guess I'm going to have to suck up and talk to my doctor about blood pressure medication. I think it's hideously unfair - with the exception of the last three weeks of my pregnancy with J, I've never had blood pressure problems, not even at my highest pre-lap-band weight. And it's not like this is the first stressful job I've had. When I worked as a prosecutor, I was often so stressed that I ground my teeth loudly enough at night to wake K up. But my blood pressure was never a problem. Until now.

And I've started reading what I thought would be a fun chick lit novel, called Mr. Maybe. It's about a woman who's single and dating, and at first thinks she's just looking for a fling. She meets a guy who's incredibly good-looking, great in bed, and who she really finds herself falling for more than she intended, but he's an aspiring writer with no money and a grubby apartment and different political views than hers. Then she meets a most eligible bachelor who's clearly crazy about her, and who she likes and thinks maybe she could settle for, who's got pots of cash, spends liberally and treats her like a princess, but there's no spark, no passion. I haven't finished the book yet, so I can't tell you who she chooses, but it made me surprisingly sad reading it and thinking that I don't feel like anyone has ever treated me like a princess. And not that I want a sugar daddy to shower me with extravagant gifts (although I wouldn't turn that down if I happened to like him into the bargain! LOL). It would just be nice to have a significant other who thought the room lit up when I walked in, and who made me feel special and desired and cherished.

Oh, the latest from one of the meet-and-greet sites: I got a "wink" today. The funny thing is, I'm not at all sure the guy really read my profile. His profile said he was looking for a woman who could put Jesus first in her life (um, missed the part where I said I'm not a very good Southern Baptist anymore and would consider myself a seeker?). He wants three kids (I want no more, I'm happy with the one I have, thanks). He's looking for someone who's a non-drinker (I don't drink to excess, but I have been known to toss back a margarita from time to time). Maybe he just thought I was cute, who knows. At any rate, I'm thinking this is someone I probably wouldn't have a whole lot in common with. Besides, he's younger than me by about five years, and I've gotten to the point where I think that might be too much younger than me. I'm really thinking I should just give that whole scene a rest and concentrate on all the things I want to get done around here and on improving myself.

And on that happy note, I'm going to bed - I should get some sleep now, just in case J does wake up in the middle of the night howling. Depending on how he feels in the morning, we may be going to school as usual or we may be making a trip to the doctor's office. Nothin' but fun.