1. Baking. I don't want to bake on a summer day. I think my 'not wanting to but doing it anyway' has affected my baking psychologcially. It is not loved, and perhaps because I have failed it, it has failed me. Strike three on the baking front. Rock hard scones, half baked brownies, and chocolate chip bars that somehow turned into a loaf of something.
2. Shepherds pie. I don't want to eat shepherds pie on a summer day. It won't (and didn't) turn out well for either one of us.
3. Cross stitching. Someone slap me if they catch me holding a needle and thread when the sun is shining. BUT, the sun has NOT been shining, and I am alarmed at how quickly my mind reverts to the pastimes of the homebound. I refuse to descend lower than the 14 steps it takes to get into our basement. Cross stitching has me treading on the 15th step.
Yesterday I had to deal with a lot of poop. And by now you should know that I mean this literally. This is a blog that is documenting children. Aside from going through way to much butt cream, the diaper situation wasn't bothering me. But for whatever reason, Jesse's little body decided to take it up a notch, and he sat screaming and writhing on our couch for at least an hour, unable to find words to describe what the heck was the matter. THAT I can't handle. So James attempted a clinic visit, only to return early because it would have been a 2 hour wait and the clinic was closing. On his return (to my parents place) Jesse saw we were having pizza, perked up like a well watered dandelion, and resumed acting like his normal self. Was he faking it? I fear I spent all my psychological babble on scones, and I won't tread those waters here. I'm just happy he's back to normal.
But, with every rose comes a thorn (unless they don't, in which case you will now discover that I don't know a lot about roses..) but what I'm getting at is that Anneliese took a turn for the worse during the night and was up on the hour coughing like a seal, and again, I can't handle THAT. (You might be wondering at this point, what I CAN handle. Sunshine people. I already mentioned that ) By the time morning came, I was half awake enough to see James heading out the door for work, hear Jesse crying in his bedroom, and see that Anneliese has her head in my armpit and isWIDE awake, but not coughing. Hallelu.
Some people long to be adults. At this moment, wading through the haze of dream and reality, trying to figure out what cries are coming from where, and why the house is so cold and dark.. the realization of being the only adult in the house is not a good one. You can't just put the pillow over your head and keep sleeping when you are the grown up. One, it would suffocate the baby in my armpit, and two, two year old's don't like that. Jesse came and pulled off my pillow, and it was time to start the day that came out of the night that never seemed to end. (p.s. I think my past tenses have spilled into present progressives and simple presents, and I simply don't care right now. A less tired me would not approve, but at the moment, I'm making a new rule in grammar. Acknowledged errors are permissible, but only when blogging on very little sleep. I'll sign for that.)
