Oh, you know how I love a good reason to use all-caps phrases in my posts. “NO HE DID NOT JUST SHOOT POOP ACROSS THE DRESSER,” or “DON’T MESS WITH ME OR I’LL SQUIRT MILK IN YOUR EYE,” for instance. But I found one excuse that I wish had never happened in order for me to post this: I JUST HAD FOOD POISONING. The rest of this post could definitely be in all caps, BECAUSE THAT’S HOW I FEEL, but I’ll spare you. Lance doesn’t like all-caps because he doesn’t like being computer-yelled at. I understand. EXCEPT THAT I JUST HAD FOOD POISONING.
I could write about how I had to pause between hurling spells to nurse my baby, or I could complain about how my once abundant milk production has dwindled to mere drops in my dehydrated state. I could tell you that I’d rather get sick with anything, ANYTHING, other than vomiting. I could even, were I so selfishly inclined, go on and on about how miserable the last few months have been and how I’ve never been sick so often with so many different afflictions and WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, but… I won’t. Suffice it to say I am better now, I can lift my 20 pound son again without falling immediately to my knees, and I look endearingly emaciated. (Whu-huh!?) It’s just that as I lay in bed yesterday with my mouth hanging open and my eyes sliding in and out of focus, my 18-year-old sister, with barely concealed jealousy, came in and said “If it’s any consolation, you look anorexic.” Oh did I say endearingly emaciated? I think I meant SCARY AS ALL HELL.
Ok, so I’m better. Thank You, sweet Jesus. (Which is what I said every single time I picked my brittle bones off the bathroom floor. “Thank You, Jesus, that I didn’t die that time. Somewhere in the middle just now, I thought I was a goner for sure, but I made it!”)
In other news, my sister, who has been staying with us for almost two months, and my parents, who have been here almost one month, all moved back home today. The house feels a lot bigger and emptier than I remember, which makes me feel oddly blue. Also it’s a lot cleaner. (rimshot!) But seriously. Honestly I’m kind of worried Noah’s going to be major bored when he realizes the only faces he gets to see are mine and Lance’s anymore. I’ll have to buy him some more toys. Or maybe I’ll teach him how to pull Lucy’s tail tomorrow.
What else can I tell you that’s not about BARFING ALL NIGHT? Lance gave me an amazing neck-and-shoulder massage last night – oh wait. THAT’S BECAUSE THEY WERE SO SORE FROM ALL THE BARFING. Well, I tried.
