I did okay today, I suppose, considering that the doctor's office was closed, so I couldn't talk to anybody about my belly issue. I briefly debated going to urgent care, but decided to wait and see if I could just get through the day. Had a couple of attacks, but I kept the amount I ate very low, so the nausea was mild when it came upon me. Tomorrow morning, though, I'm on the phone bright and early. Eric doesn't leave for his business trip until the afternoon, so if I can get in first thing, I may be able to get scanned or whatever before he goes; if, in fact, the doctor orders me to hie myself to an operating room posthaste, maybe we'll be able to keep Eric home altogether.
(The thought that my body might doing this to itself just to keep Eric from going away is not a humorous one, so quit smirking while you think it.)
Other than the moments of miserably making sure I had a bowl within grabbing distance (I haven't actually puked, though it's been at the forefront of my mind frequently), it wasn't a horrid first day to the new year. West Virginia won the Gator Bowl, after making me think there was no way it would happen, so that moment of surprise elation was quite welcome. Sam and Gabe played well together for most of the day, except for the times when they, well, didn't. (Gabe is having a really tough time with this whole "sharing" concept, so we get to hear, "Mine!" No, mine!" "Miiiiiiiiiiine!" pretty regularly these days, and I haven't the foggiest idea how to get them to knock it off.) Eric let me rest a bunch, which made everything more easy to handle, too.
Tomorrow, though, will be interesting. Gabe's had all of us around him, day in and day out, for over a week now, and now he's going to have to deal with Sam heading back to school, Eric heading out of town, and a mommy who just can't play chase right now at a moment's notice, all at once. I'm heading into that post-holiday phase where I want all the holiday crap cleared out, but I don't have the ability to do it or the plan for where I'm going to put the new stuff. Thinking about it makes me want to curl into a ball and rock back and forth for a while.
Happy New Year!
Lately, Gabe has become obsessed with the concept of "too." No matter what it is that Sam has or is doing, Gabe needs to have or be doing the same thing: "I want, too!" He wants his own glasses; he wants his own watch. He wants to help Eric cook, though he's frequently disgusted by the thought of eating whatever it is that Eric and Sam are creating. (Tonight, it was cheese ravioli.) If Sam is holding a toy car, God help us if there's not an identical car lying about. "Want car, too! Want, too!"
This evening, Eric read Sam's bedtime stories (a few chapters out of Stanley and the Magic Lamp), while Gabe flipped through My Big Train Book. When Eric finished with Sam, he read the train book twice to Gabe before finally handing it to Sam, who had been patiently awaiting a turn with it. Gabe went ballistic, screaming, "My choo-choo! Want read, too! Want book, too! My book...read...choo-choo, too!" It went on and on, and he wouldn't take comfort from anybody. Finally, he sniffled, said, "Sorry, Josh," and climbed into his bed to nurse.
Sam usually maintains a strong desire to keep the peace, so he's pretty good about finding ways to appease Gabe's need to keep up with him. I don't like the idea that he can't have a simple book without the roof falling in, and I felt bad when he kept trying to give it back to Gabe, saying, "Here, take it!" Good grief! Most of the time, though, he seems to find it funny that Gabe wants to be like him so much; Gabe echoes him as he talks, stumbling over the words, so it sounds like Sam's standing in a little cavern much of the time.
"Dad, let's pretend this car is a boat, and we're the boat drivers!"
"Car is boat! Boat drivers!"
When he's not making me want to pull my hair out with both fists, he cracks me up so much. I was frustrated with him tonight for refusing any dinner, and I said, "Do you see Mama's face? Mama's getting mad." Gabe tersely nodded and responded, "Yep; I'm mad." I don't think it was a confusion of pronoun, either; he was just letting me know that I wasn't the only frustrated party in the negotiations. That's one emotion he understands; we hear him often saying, "Hmph! I'm mad!" and stalking off with his arms crossed and his chin tucked. Frankly, I'll take that over a tantrum, any day; at least it usually doesn't last longer than it takes him to find the nearest toy vehicle.
Supposed to have a PTA meeting tomorrow night; I don't see that happening. Then I'm supposed to have a MOPS meeting on Thursday; might be under a knife or something, so perhaps not. It's not much fun living with uncertainty; it makes it hard to fill in pristine new calendars, certainly.
one year ago:
Sam Bingoed and chose a grab-bag marked "Boy" (why, yes, I gagged, bu what can you do?) that was revealed to contain a little flashlight and a baseball.
two years ago:
I like the idea that 2005 seems to be starting out by giving us free stuff, though.
three years ago:
In my most reflective moments, I can realize that Wisconsin probably has plenty of opportunities waiting for me personally.
four years ago:
To imagine us all together, happy forever, in perfect bodies, without first having to go through the loss of each other, is a great thought. I want it to be true.
five years ago:
Eric had managed, for a moment, to take his mind off our troubles; who was I to drag him back?
six years ago:
I've come to see that just about every woman, before they first see or hear that undeniable proof of their baby, feels a little nervous that she might just be experiencing a "hysterical pregnancy."
seven years ago:
It's not that I'm terrifically bothered by the change of the year, but I just didn't feel prepared to enter the year 2000.
In the ears:|
Eric playing "Guitar Hero"
On the Bookshelf:
Photos, old and new,