The original title for this post was “Apples and peanut butter.” Clearly my day started better than it ended. It is only 7:30 pm….so you’d think there’d still time for it to turn around, but unfortunately (for my messy house…and my husband) I’ve gotten into the habit of collapsing on the couch as soon as my son goes to bed around 7:00 (ie….he’s still in his crib “fussing”…”screaming”….what’s the difference?) and taking a little hour to two hour nap, waking up, getting ready for bed, and going back to sleep.
I’m tired (and hungry…but we’ll get to that). I’m tired, because I’m pregnant. And I’m sad because I’ve been told by my doctor that the pregnancy is not viable based on the baby’s size and very slow heartbeat. So I’m tired. Which is totally normal for someone 10 weeks pregnant. But considering I’ve been told that I won’t be delivering a baby in 6 months, tired feels lazy. It feels depressed. It feels like I’m selfish (laying on the couch on Father’s day) and not very fun for my son. Like I’m not a good mom with one child…why would I be entrusted with a second? I know this is crazy hormonal, grieving Lindsay talking. And I don’t particularly like what she has to say. But she’s STILL talking. So….I will shut her up.
Enter….comfort food. My husband likes to refer to it as discomfort food b/c “technically” I’m lactose intolerant and there is a little bit of dairy in (cheese) biscuits and (sausage) gravy…with butter on top…butter before the gravy which is really on top. I’m serious. Very serious. And it might make me feel not great in the morning. Update: I have eaten all the biscuits and gravy. And I think I offered some to my husband. Nice Father’s day dinner. And I ate it all. And he doesn’t know yet. Should I make more? HURRY….tell me!!!!! No time. Too tired.
This entry started as a tribute to an afternoon ritual with my mom that always seemed to make everything better. Apples and peanut butter snacks. She’d cut (I don’t have the patience for coring and cutting apples) and I’d scoop out peanut butter and we’d eat and talk. “How was your day?” “What’s for dinner?” “Can I go to Courtney’s?” You know, the basics.
Right now….I want to be in HER kitchen, asking THOSE questions. Instead of in my kitchen (already feeling a little sick) asking “why am I having another miscarriage?” “when will this be over?” “will we have another baby?” “when will I feel normal again?” “is there something wrong with me?”