Well, I was too cocky, too confident that my migraines were a thing of the painful past, but they made an unwelcomed return last night. Possibly, there is an explanation: It started when dainty little Norah pooped so much that it escaped from her diaper. It made it's way up her back, and somehow all the way into her hair?! While cleaning disaster number one, little did I know, my remaining two children were downstairs creating a second disaster. Seventeen juice boxes were opened and squeezeed all over our very expensive area rug downstairs. Calculated correctly, that comes to over 120 ounces of various juice flavors clinging tightly to those little strands of wool. I spent over two hours trying to soak up the mess myself, but to no avail... the cleaners are on their way, and will be charging me quite a fee to "attempt" to remove the stains. One-hundred-and-eleven dollars. Should I repeat that? One-hundred-and-eleven dollars!! That's more than one-dollar per ounce to have the juice cleaned out of the carpet. If the cleaners' attempt fails to get out the stain, I can only hope their attempt to charge my credit card fails as well.
Anyway, last night, after the adrenaline from the joy of having children wore off, I wound up with the worst migraine I have had since before two-year-old Georgie was born. Thank God Norah is sleeping through the night, or she would have been introduced to her very first bottle of Similac. I can't imagine why last night was chosen for the grand reminder of what it's like to have an Acme anvil come down and crack apart my tired skull, but I can only hope, and I do pray, that any future visits (if there must be any) from the Mighty Migraine are few and very far between!
Labels: bad days, illness and injury, migraines