Nausea

It's been a week of nausea. Your lovely outbreak of sickness was followed by sickness for Grandma (Monday), Mama (Tuesday), and Dada (Wednesday). Luckily, all of us weren't sick at the same time. Thus, GM Ricki, GP Peter, and GD Xena were all able to come down on Wednesday (and GM again on Thursday) to offer some much needed help.

You have mostly been a clingy and whiny stinkbug. Today I had you in the morning. And we had no plans. And, though I love you, five hours without the respite of a nap when you only want to be held ALL THE TIME is kind of a recipe for Homicidal Mama. In order to defend against my growing homicidal tendencies, I brought you up to St. Olaf so that you could run around, see Daddy, pet the Christmas trees, get roasty (I mean, toasty) by the fire, etc. You refused to walk on your own. It's possible we were playing "polio epidemic" or "fun with landmines" and that's why you wanted me to carry you--but if so, you need to be clearer about the kind of imaginative outcomes you're hoping for.

Last night, however, you broke out a whole bunch of adorable. When we Skyped with GM Gail and GP Michael, you walked in front of the computer screen (and camera) and delivered--literally--a five minute lecture to them complete with finger shaking, head nods, and a flurry of hand waves. Behind you, Daddy and I were convulsing with laughter.

You have learned to blow kisses and, admittedly, that's pretty fucking cute.

Though the stomach bug has passed through our house, my nausea continues. There are many things up in the air right now, many decisions that will be made by others or by us in the upcoming weeks that could have some big effects on our lives. And yes, I'm being purposefully vague. The point is just that it is possible that you're being a miserable witch because I'm kind of a miserable witch right now too. "It seems like you have trouble living with ambiguity," said your father to your mother during their very first phone conversation. This made Mommy think that Daddy was an asshole and prompted a vow never to talk to him again. But it *may* be possible that he was a *tiny* bit right. I have trouble living with ambiguity and you have trouble with me when I'm having trouble with anything.

Oh well, I'm sure the single digit temps and impending snow storm will have us all in better moods in a jiffy.

At least I don't have trouble living with sarcasm.