Bad Patient

Life is peachy. Here are some of the highlights (and low-lights).

My mom was here for a week helping out keeping all the laundry clean as well as the kitchen and kid. She also rubbed my back, brought an endless supply of peanut M&M's and was an all around great cuddler. (Thank you so much, mom. You have no idea what it meant to us to have you here.)

My son thought every time she walked into the room meant that his mommy was being shipped off to Cambodia for a few more days without him, so he wanted nothing to do with her. She took it better than I did.

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I look around and see all of the stuff I want to be doing. Knitting. Sewing. Going through the junk drawer. Scrapbooking. Reading.

My head has hurt so bad for the last four days that all I really manage to do is take random assortments of drugs every 6 hours and try to pretend that it's normal to cock my head to the side like a camel with a sand flee stuck in its ear.

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I was cleared Friday to take baths and anyone who knows anything about me knows I loooooove my baths. Showers are for heathens and very muddy people.

I just got out of a shower instead of a bath because the thought of moving my shampoo and conditioner the 10 feet to the tub was just too much to bear.

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I lost 15 lbs in 4 days.

It was all water weight from the surgery and it involved endless middle of the night trips to the bathroom. And I still have the real 5lbs to lose that I just.freaking.lost. You know, the 5 hardest pounds in the history of mankind to lose? That I worked really, really hard to make go away just a few short months ago? F*****S

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I'm getting in touch with my emotions.

Alan hasn't filed divorce papers, yet, (right Alan?) on the grounds of his wife has gone flipping nuts. Crying is the new black.

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Please no chin-up little buckeroo comments. I need to hear a few, "I feel you girl." and "are you having to deal with this shit too?" comments. I need a little solidarity right now. I will cowboy up all by myself, I'm sure. After all, I am little Miss Pollyanna 90% of the time.

So how about it? Come on Kim, tell me about the cooler of water left by the side of the bed after Elise was born. Linda, let me hear a little something about your torture after your recent surgery. Anyone have any gory wound stories? Mom? Care to share about the time your guts came out of your belly button? Anything for your darling, right?