Monday, October 26, 2009

And the prize for the most obvious answer goes to…

I woke up this morning feeling even more crappy than I have for the past two weeks. This morning my chest hurts, and it hurts to breathe.

So I decided perhaps I should actually call my doctor now. I mean, it's been more than two weeks that I've been sick, and it's getting worse instead of better. Maybe this isn't just a little flu that's going to go away on it's own.

So I called my doctor's office, and I told them the long story and that now that my chest hurts when I breathe. And the nice lady on the phone asked: "Can you still breathe?"

"Um, yes, but it hurts when I do," I replied.

"Well, unless you start to not be able to breathe, there's nothing I can do for you. If you can't breathe, go to the hospital. Otherwise, just stay home so you don't spread it, and try to get some rest."


What I really said was: "So, there's nothing you can do? You can't check to make sure it's not pneumonia or something?"

She was wholly unsympathetic. She said that they were getting lots of calls from people whose chests hurt: it was just what was going around.

So, there you have it. If I die of pneumonia, you know who to blame. I CALLED THE DOCTOR.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Up to my armpits in kleenex

Well, it's been quite the month here at the denice-isms household. We saw a bunch of houses, found one we liked, put in an offer, and totally got rejected. As in, the realtor wrote REJECTED in big block letters on the fax she sent back. So, it's back to the drawing board on that front.

Also, (and probably most important to me) I'm sick with some sort of plague that just doesn't seem to want to go away. I cough and I hack and spend the day just feeling tired and miserable, and it's been more than a week now and I just want it to go away. Gracie doesn't seem to have caught it from me, which is a bit of a miracle, but I must admit that I have had brief, fleeting moments when I wish she HAD caught it from me. Like, when she's running around the house at breakneck speed and begging me to play with her, and I only have enough energy to sit on the couch and vegetate. That way, maybe we could vegetate together, right? (Is it child abuse to hope your child gets a miserable cold from you?)

It doesn't help that this virus arrived at the same time as the cold and snowy weather around here. So we went from spending almost every afternoon outside running around, to being couped up inside, and Gracie's getting a tad grumpy with me. Yesterday, after an entire morning of temper tantrums and fights, I took a whole bunch of cold medicine, lined my pockets with Kleenex and took the kid to the park.

You’d have thought we'd gone to Disneyland, she was so happy.
"Oh, I missed you swings! And I missed you slide! And I missed you rocks! And Brown Horse missed you too!!!"

We need to find a place with a back yard.

Tuesday, October 06, 2009

My favorite part of the day

Every morning, as the sun filters through the blinds, I am awakened by the sound of footsteps thundering down the hall. Slap! Slap! Slap! Her little bare feet make contact with the laminate, and by the time she reaches my bedside I am fully awake but my eyes remain shut: I am waiting for her to say the magic word.

"MOMMY!" She yells, inches from my face. My eyes snap open and my mouth wears an instant grin. "Good Morning Sweet Pea!" is always my response. "Do you want to cuddle with us?"

"Yes!" she will say, already climbing in. She snuggles herself between hubby and I in our suddenly small bed. And I think to myself, "This is my favorite part of the day."


Later, after we all get up, after clothes are found and breakfast is eaten and Daddy's lunch is packed, we go outside, ready to send him off to work. We stand by his truck, and I hold her up to his window. She hands him his lunch bag and leans in for a kiss: "Good bye Daddy! We love you lots and lots and lots!" We go back to the sidewalk and wave to him as he drives away.

And I think to myself, "This is my favorite part of the day."


Now we are alone, my little munchkin and I. We spend the rest of the morning doing housework, taking breaks now and then to read a book or play a game. Maybe a grandma or an auntie will call for a chat. Maybe we'll bake daddy some chocolate chip cookies. At noon I let her watch Clifford the Big Red Dog on PBS while I have a shower. Afternoons are spent at the park or running errands.

The list makes the day sound mundane, but is actually filled with stolen moments of wonderful: a snuggle here, a dance to the radio there. Sometimes, I'm so overcome with her cuteness that I just pick her up and start kissing her all over until she can't stop giggling.

And after each of those stolen moments, I think to myself: "This is my favorite part of the day."


And then I realize that my life is filled to the brim with favorite parts of the day, from the moment I wake up, to the moment my head hits the pillow. I love this new life of mine. I love making sure that my hubby and my Gracie are well taken care of. I'm so grateful that I get to spend my days in a home filled with love, and laughter and so many favorite parts of the day. And I'm forever mindful that these days are going by so very fast, and soon my little sweet pea will be too big to pick up and kiss all over until she can't stop giggling.


So tonight, when I go to bed, I'm going to curl up with my husband, and tell him how much I love him. Then I'm going make sure he knows this is also my favorite part of the day, and thank him for giving me the favorite days of my life.