Sick Day

After a weekend of feeling not great I called in sick to work today. I decided that I should not gift the aches, congestion and cough with others. Plus it's a little hard to demand attention from a young child with autism when you have no voice. My sign language is not impressive enough.

I spent my day recovering with some throat drops, water, TV, naps and homemade chicken noodle soup. Yes, yesterday when I felt not so great I threw together some chicken noodle soup. You know, because why rest up? I'm sure that exertion had nothing to do with my downfall today. Chicken noodle soup cures everything. Better even than the chocolate chip cookies I convinced Skip we needed to make on Sunday night when I was feeling poorly. These are comfort foods. Rituals to heal. Only I'm used to my motha making such things. She is a nurse extraordinaire, plus cook, plus she's nice. A good person to have in a time of need.

So today, instead of calling her and demanding that she board a plane and take care of me, I did exactly what she would do after three days of illness: I scoured the kitchen, stripped the sheets and Cloroxed the bathroom.

Nine months into pregnancy and I officially feel like a mom.

Also, the bean left Hang Ten imprints all over my belly as she moonwalked on the inside of my woooooomb, and Skipper tripped out big time when she got the hiccups: "it's the nebulous blob gnawing at my gizzard, as far as Skipper is concerned, but when she got the hiccups it made her seem like a real little human bean in there, a person inside me, cause people get the hiccups, not nebulous blob urchin things.

Blue Hues of Winter

It has occurred to me many times that I should post something profound and entertaining. And then I become distracted by my husband, my work, my dancing stomach. So when I left the house this morning and saw that our once proud pumpkins had shriveled into rotting pumpkins overnight I acknowledge my negligence with life. (We did not feel it necessary to remove our October pumpkins from their festive spot. Worked through November, possibly pathetic in mid-January.)

That's a bit harsh, but it was a harsh morning. Overcast with a strong bitter wind whipping small iceflakes in my eyes. The depleted pumpkins reminded me of my overgrown weedy garden and withered potted plants. Yes, it is winter and I feel it's depressional pull. The kind that says "You should only sit in front of your fireplace and sip hot chocolate." Luckily, my growing Bean has produced a pumpkin-esque rotund look to my tummy and serves as a constant reminder that Spring will bring new blossoms. That sounds poetic, but actually it was difficult to plant my tulip bulbs whilst pregnant. Lots of stretching-the-leg breaks.