Moments

Perhaps this week I will go into the nitty gritty that was last week. In short, I had my appendix out. And it was dramatic: from the initial pain to the diagnosis to the surgery to the recovery. I've been living it so I can't stand to retell even my finer moments, but suffice it to say that I seem to have survived, as has my unborn child.

ANYWAY:

I am tired of March Madness. My teams have lost, J's teams have lost, J's currently watching a dunk contest (which I hate). Having a toddler makes following a game really challenging. You are chasing child, playing with child, caring for child and then halftime. Then game over.

J's team was losing as an ER doc was giving me my options on how to proceed. J is normally a doting husband, and as I was mulling over my terrible decisio, J's going, "Well, I think - wait, OMG, did you see that shot?- I think that we should- D*AMIT! I can't believe he missed that! - I think that we should." But I understood.

What really did me in was last night, when J was rooting for his least favorite team to lose. We were at the in-laws and I wanted to watch too. But MIL trapped me in the kitchen and wanted to have a heart to heart about Good SIL. The problem is that, well, I don't like long discussions with MIL cuz she says weird stuff like, "Is there anything better on earth than being a mommy???" in a baby voice every time I see her. And then she tells me family "secrets" and then emails me to tell me not to tell anyone and that she shouldn't have mentioned it. I can handle this, although I'd rather her just not mention the "secret" to begin with.  But the drunken baby talk? No.

Despite my illness, I attended a very small portion of my friend's bridal shower. We met in 5th grade and have been friends ever since. I was medicated and hormonal and watching her open her gifts and I started crying (Also, when I dropped Monkey's blanket off at daycare this morning after J dropped her off and I saw her sweetly sitting there reading a cardboard book. I burst into tears as she eagerly pointed at the textured zebra stripe on the page to show me. I must have looked so unstable.). Her mom was crying too, which didn't help me control my emotions. I kept remembering how embarassing we were in those days- 10 years old and thinking we were 16, wearing huge earrings and putting on make-up on the bus, listening to the Spin Doctors and ganging up on each other on a fairly regular basis. Sigh.

Alright, I'm going to look over my work for tomorrow.