Fled

I'm all alone.  The only thing I hear is the hum of the laptop, the chirping of a bird and of course, airplanes flying overhead.  I don't have to be quiet for fear of waking anyone. 

Guess what else? 

I'm bored. 

It's not like I am on a "stay-cation" here.  I'm staying but it's not so vacation like.  Unless you consider fighting the urge to scratch your face off or to scratch the shingles right off your torso a fun thing to do. 

Last night I called my MIL to let her know that we decided to ditch our plans to finish the stairwell before Theo's baptism because that would have involved Ryan working on the stairwell this weekend.  Cancelling plans to finish the stairwell freed them up for next weekend when I was going to bring the boys out and Ryan's step dad was going to come out and help on the projects.  And Ryan working would have involved me taking care of the boys and since I have not one but two contagious diseases right now we thought that wasn't such a good idea. 

This weekend is turning out to be the lamest holiday weekend ever. 

Oh, no.  That's not true.  I had hepatitis A in the third grade for a couple of months.  That was the lamest Thanksgiving, Christmas and birthday ever.  EVER.  I'll have to write about that sometime but for now I'm just going to lament my current virus and bacteria laden state.

Mr. T (Theo) slept well last night - a 4 and 3.5 hour stretch of sleep.  I slept decently, thanks to drugs.  Ooh, almost time for me to take my afternoon round of drugs.  Can't forget...  After waking and before taking more drugs I would pump for 20 or so minutes.  Once I took care of the milk and it was sufficiently cold in the fridge, Theo would wake up.  Then I would have to go heat the milk while Theo got good and worked up.  I think he was a little confused as to why I was giving him a bottle.  Man, he is a ravenous little dude!  He attacked the bottle and was sucking so hard the nipple collapsed.  Yes.  Now just think of that same ravenous little beast drinking straight from the tap.  Yowza. 

This morning Ryan took the boys to the gym which allowed me to pack for them.  It was the least I could do.  He was taking the boys and the dog to his mom's so I could wallow in my scratchy misery all by myself.  Plus, if he packed it would have been after he got back from the gym which would have taken at least 2 hours.  No thanks.  While he was gone I washed, dried and folded the boys' clothes, delivered a swim diaper to the van outside of the gym (and called the daycare to let them know the diaper was in the van since I didn't want to show crusty face) because I had a feeling Ryan forgot a swim diaper (which he affirmed when he got home), packed toys, diapers, labeled any and all drugs the boys could possibly need (teething medicine, ipecac in case they get poisoned, Tylenol, ibuprofen...), sunscreen....

Way too many drugs, way too much sunscreen, aloe in case they forget the sunscreen, hats, pj's, bibs....

They are going to be gone 1-2 days.  I packed enough for a week.

It's not wishful thinking.  Really.  Babies and little boys just have a way of peeing, pooping, barfing and spilling all over themselves.  Copious amounts of clothing are needed. 

I had to go out to the van when Ryan came home to load up the goods before heading to his mom and step-dad's because Gavin refused to leave the van.  He was told he was going to Nana and Papa's house and I think in his head leaving the van would have added an intolerable amount of time until he got to see them.  My, my, my, how that child loooves his Nana and Papa.  But, really.  What's not to love?  They are great. 

They are great to us.  They are great to me.  Even when I'm a little snot.  Don't be too alarmed but I can be a little brat sometimes.  I hope my admission of non-perfection doesn't cause anyone heart trouble. 

I've been thinking that I need to apologize to my in-laws for being one of those in-laws last summer.  We stayed together at place at the beach and I was less than agreeable.  Some might even say grumpy.  Spoiled.  Sassy.

Others would say pregnant but that's a cop out.

Then when my MIL so graciously came to our house when I thought I was going into labor every day and crying every night because my body was teasing me I was less than gracious.  I was thankful beyond words but I was also crazy beyond words.  How is it that one can be eternally grateful and brat at the same time?

I should know since that was me.

The last couple of weeks I have been thinking of the best way to apologize.  In person for sure.  But before I do it in person, why not let the world (or the 8 people reading this and the stragglers who happen across it) know what a wonderful woman I have in my mother-in-law and how I'm not always as deserving of such a great MIL?  I guess this is a pre-apology.  I'm working up the nerve to do it in person. 

This has been quite the rambling post, hasn't it?  I'll blame it on the vicodin.  God bless strong drugs.  They can be so helpful. 

That's enough for now.  Time to overload on Law and Order (SVU, Criminal Intent, the original), CSI and whatever random crime shows TiVo thinks I like.