Take me back to the hospital.
Yeah, yeah, I know, my hormones are out of whack. My moods are dictated by how long it's been since I took my last Lortab. Once I've taken it, I'm as happy as can be--nothing's wrong with the world. If I forget, my life truly sucks. It's only been a week. I miss having a nurse come press my pills into my hand every so many hours.
My house is as hot as the desert. I hate this summer weather already. I'm dying here and don't feel like I can walk into my own kitchen to refill my glass of water. I guess I can just use the tap in my bathroom. But it always makes it taste worse. I miss the pellet ice at the hospital and pressing a button to have someone go fill up my cup again.
I'm up about three hours at different times throughout the night. I feed the baby, and she cries minutes after I put her back in the crib. I can't keep her awake to eat, and I just want to crawl back into my bed. But it never lasts. I wish my house had a nursery where I can send the baby when I really need to sleep.
I miss sleep, water, sanity. I actually miss the hospital. Is it crazy that I want to go back?
Monday, April 30, 2007
Thursday, April 19, 2007
I was tagged
The rules are: Once you have been tagged you have to write a blog with 8 weird or random things, facts, or habits about yourself. At the end, you choose 8 people to be tagged, list their names, and why you chose them to be tagged. Don't forget to leave a comment that says, "You are tagged" on their profile and to read your latest blog. Have fun!
1. I've gained 43 pounds in the last 9 months
2. I love winter time more than all the other seasons.
3. I can't have the closet door open while I sleep at night.
4. I like watching Backyardigans with my 5-year-old, and singing along, of course.
5. I have to work hard to get vegetables on the table each night--I don't like them, but Bianca will never know.
6. I am a believer in horoscopes now.
7. I belong to three book clubs, and two writing groups
8. I can't stand the sight of blood or having an IV or needle poked into me. I've thrown up and passed out in the past because of them.
1. I've gained 43 pounds in the last 9 months
2. I love winter time more than all the other seasons.
3. I can't have the closet door open while I sleep at night.
4. I like watching Backyardigans with my 5-year-old, and singing along, of course.
5. I have to work hard to get vegetables on the table each night--I don't like them, but Bianca will never know.
6. I am a believer in horoscopes now.
7. I belong to three book clubs, and two writing groups
8. I can't stand the sight of blood or having an IV or needle poked into me. I've thrown up and passed out in the past because of them.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
My mini me
never thought Bianca was much like me. She definitely doesn't look like me the way Miranda did. I always just kind of thought she was a nice mix between Eric and me. But lately, I'm seeing a lot of me in her.
When I was about Bianca's age, probably a little younger, I told my mom as I was drawing pictures that I wished I could write so that I could make up the story to go along with my drawings. I used to glue the insides of the pages together to make books.
Over the last several months, Bianca's taken quite an interest in writing stories. Her first story was about six-seven pages and was about a princess who had eight pet birds. The birds turn into fairies in the story's climactic ending. Not bad. Pretty creative.
Her next story she wrote was about a princess whose sister died. The sister would come to the princess while she slept and take her to heaven, to do all sorts of different fun things together. She illustrated it too. I submitted it to a contest (I'll let you know how that turns out) for kindergarteners.
She has this amazing creativity and I've been so proud.
In Bianca's phonics class, they've spent the last several weeks writing stories. I couldn't have been happier. All the parents were invited to this "Author's Tea." I couldn't wait to see what Bianca came up with in class. At 9:30 this morning, Eric and I were both there, sitting on kindergartener-sized chairs packed in to see the 15 kids.
Bianca went up to the front to read her story. It was about a Cheetah, which incidentally was the topic of about seven other of the kids' stories as well. It went like this: "Cheetah maxe friends. One day there was a cheetah. It hunted for lions. The End."
Of course I clapped like she'd just won the pulitzer prize. After all, she wasn't scared to get up there and read to the entire class with all the parents. But I looked to Eric like what-just-happened-here. It's not that I thought the story was bad, but it was just like most of the other kids' stories. I know Bianca has the potential to write a much better story. I've heard it. I've seen her do it. And here she is, reading something so below what I know she can do.
Why do I care? I'm not sure. I'm never going to say anything about it. I want her to keep writing stories. But it's just so hard for me to stand back and watch.
When I was about Bianca's age, probably a little younger, I told my mom as I was drawing pictures that I wished I could write so that I could make up the story to go along with my drawings. I used to glue the insides of the pages together to make books.
Over the last several months, Bianca's taken quite an interest in writing stories. Her first story was about six-seven pages and was about a princess who had eight pet birds. The birds turn into fairies in the story's climactic ending. Not bad. Pretty creative.
Her next story she wrote was about a princess whose sister died. The sister would come to the princess while she slept and take her to heaven, to do all sorts of different fun things together. She illustrated it too. I submitted it to a contest (I'll let you know how that turns out) for kindergarteners.
She has this amazing creativity and I've been so proud.
In Bianca's phonics class, they've spent the last several weeks writing stories. I couldn't have been happier. All the parents were invited to this "Author's Tea." I couldn't wait to see what Bianca came up with in class. At 9:30 this morning, Eric and I were both there, sitting on kindergartener-sized chairs packed in to see the 15 kids.
Bianca went up to the front to read her story. It was about a Cheetah, which incidentally was the topic of about seven other of the kids' stories as well. It went like this: "Cheetah maxe friends. One day there was a cheetah. It hunted for lions. The End."
Of course I clapped like she'd just won the pulitzer prize. After all, she wasn't scared to get up there and read to the entire class with all the parents. But I looked to Eric like what-just-happened-here. It's not that I thought the story was bad, but it was just like most of the other kids' stories. I know Bianca has the potential to write a much better story. I've heard it. I've seen her do it. And here she is, reading something so below what I know she can do.
Why do I care? I'm not sure. I'm never going to say anything about it. I want her to keep writing stories. But it's just so hard for me to stand back and watch.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
There's something lurking around the house
Call me crazy. I swear everytime I'm pregnant, there's one night in particular when things seem to go "bump in the night." It happened on Saturday.
Eric was out for the night with the "guys", so I put Bianca to bed at 7:30--her bedtime--and I sat down to finish the book I was reading. I had about 75 pages to go. I decided to take a jetted bath to help with my back pain. Baths are about the only relief I can get from the constant pressure nowadays. I read in the bath until sweat dripped into the tub from my forehead and then got out and continued reading on my bed.
About 20 minutes after I had gotten out of the tub, as I was lying on my bed, the jets from the bathtub automatically turned on. There was no water in the tub by that point, so I'm sure you can imagine the sound it made. Something between a hovering helicopter and what my dog sounds like after he's peed off the mat on my newly cleaned carpet and my foot sent him into his bed for "time-out." It wasn't good. I jumped up and turned it off, thought how weird it was, picked my book back up, and continued reading.
Five minutes later, which is about just how often I have to get up anymore to pee, I had to take a bathroom break and fill up my cup with more water. The door to Bianca's room that she just moved out of--before she moved to her new room downstairs--seemed like it was opening on its own. I wasn't wearing my glasses. I put them on and thought it was just an optical illusion. But by that point, I called Eric and asked him when he'd be home.
He returned a half hour later without another problem. We talked, went to bed, and after much tossing and turning, fell asleep. I always feel safer after Eric's here. It was dark and peaceful in bed.
Around one o'clock, we were startled awake by the brightest light that there ever was. I hurried to turn it off, scared, jumped back into bed, and nestled in as anatomically possible to Eric, inside the comforter and sheets, as I could.
Eric's convinced that it's our new baby checking things out at her new house. When I was pregnant with Bianca, a huge shelf in my bathroom jumped off the wall. With Miranda, it was probably the same old thing--lights turning on, and just sounds.
He got the idea from his mother who swears the same types of things happened while she was pregnant.
I am a believer in ghosts, always the scary kind that won't leave me alone--especially when Eric's out of town. Whenever you have time, I'll tell you about the "ghost" that lives in my parents' basement and I revisit every summer when I go hhome to visit.
I'd prefer to believe this was Portia messing around than a ghost. But it could always be wishful thinking. What do you think? Is it possible?
Eric was out for the night with the "guys", so I put Bianca to bed at 7:30--her bedtime--and I sat down to finish the book I was reading. I had about 75 pages to go. I decided to take a jetted bath to help with my back pain. Baths are about the only relief I can get from the constant pressure nowadays. I read in the bath until sweat dripped into the tub from my forehead and then got out and continued reading on my bed.
About 20 minutes after I had gotten out of the tub, as I was lying on my bed, the jets from the bathtub automatically turned on. There was no water in the tub by that point, so I'm sure you can imagine the sound it made. Something between a hovering helicopter and what my dog sounds like after he's peed off the mat on my newly cleaned carpet and my foot sent him into his bed for "time-out." It wasn't good. I jumped up and turned it off, thought how weird it was, picked my book back up, and continued reading.
Five minutes later, which is about just how often I have to get up anymore to pee, I had to take a bathroom break and fill up my cup with more water. The door to Bianca's room that she just moved out of--before she moved to her new room downstairs--seemed like it was opening on its own. I wasn't wearing my glasses. I put them on and thought it was just an optical illusion. But by that point, I called Eric and asked him when he'd be home.
He returned a half hour later without another problem. We talked, went to bed, and after much tossing and turning, fell asleep. I always feel safer after Eric's here. It was dark and peaceful in bed.
Around one o'clock, we were startled awake by the brightest light that there ever was. I hurried to turn it off, scared, jumped back into bed, and nestled in as anatomically possible to Eric, inside the comforter and sheets, as I could.
Eric's convinced that it's our new baby checking things out at her new house. When I was pregnant with Bianca, a huge shelf in my bathroom jumped off the wall. With Miranda, it was probably the same old thing--lights turning on, and just sounds.
He got the idea from his mother who swears the same types of things happened while she was pregnant.
I am a believer in ghosts, always the scary kind that won't leave me alone--especially when Eric's out of town. Whenever you have time, I'll tell you about the "ghost" that lives in my parents' basement and I revisit every summer when I go hhome to visit.
I'd prefer to believe this was Portia messing around than a ghost. But it could always be wishful thinking. What do you think? Is it possible?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
