Friday, July 13, 2007

7/13/07 A day of rest

It was not looking good this morning.

Katrina woke us up at 6am, unusual for her these days, but still painful. Though I'd slept soundly all night and most of yesterday afternoon, I got up with chills and wasn't able to stand for more than a few minutes without feeling like I was going to pass out again. I've come to recognize a sure sign of that now: a sound like rattlesnakes in my ears.

And, we hadn't found a sitter for the day, and Dave had oral surgery scheduled for the afternoon.

Fortunately, at the last minute (in childcare time it was last minute), everything pulled together. Collins CDC was able to take Gabriel all day, and Tonya, bless her heart, soul and body, was able to take Katrina all day.

But I was still far too weak to handle Julian, who by himself without any siblings to bug or be bugged by, is the world's easiest and most self-reliant 3-year-old. So Dave stayed home today, partly to watch me since I was still so, so sick; and to take care of Julian. We chanced it that I'd be better by the afternoon to take care of Julian.

And indeed, that happened. I slept until almost noon, then very tenderly started to feel out what I could do. Slowly I was clean, dressed and standing for over 10 minutes at a time. Dave took Julian out to lunch, then we got him down for a nap, and Dave went to his oral surgery without incident.

Julian was actually fine, and probably really enjoyed this little attention windfall -- Mom and Dad all to himself all day! Dad got to rest on the couch (see note above about 6am baby wakeup time) while Julian quietly colored, then they did some puzzles together. In fact, I think Dave really benefitted from an overall quiet day at home, and some very pleasant time with Julian being his utmost sweet.

It's truly astounding how easy one child is.

Two days in a row of no baby made me sad. I took this photo of Katrina this morning just so I could see her today.

I guess that answers the question about going back to work when she's a year old. Even though I'm really not a "baby mom," it's still very hard to be away from a 9-month-old baby. They change every day, and it will only be a few months before she starts asserting herself and our relationship changes to where I need to start gently disciplining her too. There's no adversity, no conflict with a baby. We both find that very refreshing.

Tonight as Katrina was babbling herself to sleep, I could have sworn she was singing. Her "blah blah blahs" had some rhythm to them. Wouldn't that be amazing.

Having been so completely incapacitated for a day was something of a welcome break, in retrospect. A break from day-to-day stresses, from keeping track of a thousand details, from pursuing lingering projects. But just exactly what is it that I always have to do? It certainly isn't cleaning, laundry, errands or bills -- being constantly behind on those doesn't bother me!

No, it's this house. Our house is very crude, very unfinished, in desperate need of decoration and modern fittings. Visiting Sonia's finished house this week gave me a hint of what it'd be like to find your surroundings peaceful and relaxing, instead of a thousand projects screaming out at you from every unpainted wall. The absence of pleasant aesthetics here weighs on me all the time, insidiously. The absence of good function has always loaded me down. I don't need to live in a museum, but I'm long overdue for more than "one step above a college dorm."

Dave's out getting take-out sushi. Dinner, what a concept. He needs something mushy because of his oral surgery, and I need something light because this will be my first "meal" in 2.5 days (though I have been nibbling today). Out of curiosity, I weighed myself on our crummy $10 scale that I use for weighing UPS packages: 102. I haven't seen that in years. I'm never going to weigh myself again because it'll certainly be much higher next time.

After not eating for 2.5 days, my "diastasis recti" tummy is in a rare, and very temporary, state of flat. Apparently that's what happens with herniated intestines (blah) -- once they're truly empty, they don't stick out. But the spare tire will spring back after just one or two maguro nigiri.

As long as I'm complaining, I HATE slicing fingertips. Aside from being painful, it takes days to heal, it's hard to handle objects, hard to cover with a band-aid, then as it's healing there's always this flap of skin that catches on stuff.

Another random observation: as sick as I was, I'd almost prefer that over another day of migraine. I went straight from a 9-day bout of headaches to being horribly sick, so the contrast was quite clear. Despite intense stomach pain, fever, chills, achy, faintness, my mind was clear. I could think, I could put sentences together, I could remember things, I could track time. With a headache, I have the strength to exercise, I can stand for an hour at a time, I can drive and appear to basically function. But the migraine scrambles my brains. I mix up words as I'm reading a book. I make easy spelling mistakes (and I do not make spelling mistakes!). I can't remember if a phone call happened this morning or last week. I can't concentrate.

Even though Dave doesn't have to stay home from work when I have a migraine (and some migraine spouses do), I'd rather get physically ill and retain my mind. Then again, physical incapacity and lack of exercise make me insane. Hmm. Seems there's no winning this one!

Ahh, I hear the sound of sushi being unpacked. That will soothe the body and mind.


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