My day was shot by 8:30 this morning.
As we were pulling out of the driveway this morning, The Hubby got a call on his personal phone, which, as you know, can only mean bad news at 7 a.m. on a Thursday. It was his mom letting us know that his grandfather had passed away at 3:00 this morning. It was sort of a shock. He has been in the hospital for a few weeks, but everyone thought the worst had passed.
We drop Baby Girl off at the sitter's, where she begins to have a meltdown as we walk out the door. It was the first bad dropoff we've had. It's been escalating most days, but usually she's at least accepting of her fate as we leave. Today she had that lip poking out and was starting to warm up to a good cry. The Hubby and I both cried in the car as we pulled away.
We get to work and realize that with the cargo carrier on top of the car (we've installed it because we're borrowing it for our vacation we were supposed to leave for on Saturday...more on that in a minute) we don't fit in any of the garages that are within a 5 minute walk to the office. That sent us on a 15 minute drive trying to find a parking spot on a surface lot and when we finally found one, ended up with a 15 minute walk to the office, which isn't going to be fun in the heat of the late afternoon. Oh, and of course that means we're both late for work.
As we exit the car, The Hubby realizes his lunch bag has a huge hole and his food is all over the floor of the car.
All this before 8:30.
Since then, I've found out that I won't be working on a project I was planning on working on (I didn't really care too much one way or the other, but still almost cried when she told me just because I'd already planned on it and I don't deal well with plans changing). I also dropped the huge plug for my pump on my big toe, right in that sensitive spot where the nail and the skin meet.
I just want to go home, put on jammies, eat a pint of ice cream, crawl in bed, pull the covers over my head, and pretend this day never happened.
The worst part is that I'm beating myself up for being selfish about this whole thing. I had no relationship with The Hubby's grandfather. My experience with him has been cordial, at best. He never bothered to learn my name and never met Baby Girl (which I'm sure The Hubby feels really guilty about now even though his grandpa never made an effort, either). He had his favorite grandchildren and The Hubby and his siblings weren't on that short list.
Of course The Hubby is still mourning, though. And I know I'm mourning for his dad and for the impending loss of our own parents (not too soon...just makes you realize that he was someone's father). But I'm also mourning the loss of our vacation. How awful is that? We were supposed to leave to drive to the beach on Saturday and had a condo rental all set up. At this point the best case scenario would be for the viewing to be Saturday, the funeral on Sunday (which I know rarely happens) and then we leave to drive down on Sunday evening or Monday morning? Then we have to turn the rental back over Saturday morning and drive back. It would work, but it just throws a wrench into the PLANS (which, like I said earlier, I get all bent of shape when plans change, even though I try to keep in mind the phrase "You plan. God laughs."). Plus my parents were going on the trip, so it messes with their lives as well. I do feel very guilty, though, about worrying about this vacation now. I feel like I shouldn't be worried about it...but I am.
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