Crabby kid, crabby mom, and choosing from 735 varieties of weird. At least.

Last night I asked our across the street friends and neighbors if they would be up for trading Jordan for their adorable French bulldog, just for a couple days.

I was kidding. Sort of. Anyway, that's how they took it.

Although very candidly, and I know this will make me sound dreadful and hateful, this weekend I was totally fantasizing about a kiddie kennel/hotel. If I had somewhere to send Jordan for a month week couple days where I knew he would be totally safe and happy, I would do it.

I just want time to do nothing in the evening, without feeling guilty, because it means someone else is picking up the kid slack. Last pregnancy, I laid in bed and ate frozen yogurt and read the Twilights. It sounds like the epitome of luxury to me at this point.

Anyway.

Jordan was sick last week and Thursday morning Nick took him to the pediatrician, who said he didn't have another ear infection (yay!) but to watch him. And then Friday I came home early because he had a 102 fever. (He was up and down all weekend but has kicked it and is back to fine, thankfully.)

What I have now realized is this: Jordan, much like my dad, is very sweet and docile and malleable when he's really sick. It sounds terrible, but my dad was at his most agreeable when he was particularly feeble. It was always the nice respite after big trauma.

And Jordan, when Jordan is all feeble he will snuggle against you and cuddle and ask you to read to him and it's so deliciously sweet. And you don't want him to be terribly sick, of course, but it is delightful to have a very calm little snuggle-boy.

However.

When he's not really sick, and improves to the point of feeling sort of bad, as far as I can tell, he's kind of a belligerent asshole. And neeeeeeeeedy. Oh, needy. Cannot play with toys without you being RIGHT THERE. And at his beck and call every moment. And screamy cry-y when you don't do his bidding immediately.

My mother keeps reminding me that he's two and I'm the adult. And I try to be all take a deep breath and silently intone SERENITY NOW MOTHERFUCKING SERENITY NOW but...I'm not great at it.

Because apparently, I'm not much older than two.

AND: this all coincided with my starting a new medication. Because, while I don't have gestational diabetes (thank you, JesusBuddhaMahavir!), my thyroid turns out to not be working as well as it should. While apparently common in pregnancy, it has implications for the baby - like possible stillbirth, lower cognitive function, and such.

In other words, as soon as they called in the prescription on Friday I sprinted over to CVS.

My midwife said I should expect to feel kind of weird in the beginning. "Weird how?"

Because I know full well from experience that there are more than 735 official kinds of weird. And I was just wanting to be a little prepared for which kind of weird I might need to embrace.

"Just...different. It's a foreign substance your body has to get used to!"

So I took it as directed on an empty stomach Saturday morning and waited for the weird.

Mostly, it makes...very agitatey. I was extra-crabby and tired all weekend. Which initially I attributed to the kid being particularly needy and trying and also sort of sucking the life out of me.

But at today's midwife visit, when I told her I was all agitated and exhausted she said, "Yes, probably."

Which is an annoying kind of weird, but I guess better than, I don't know, a toe growing out of your neck or something.