I am home alone for the long weekend. My husband took the kids to visit my MIL. He offered to leave me to get a break, especially from the nursling I have been trying to wean with no luck, but at first I blew him off. First they are stopping in the Bronx to visit relatives, then on to Central New Jersey. I realized I cannot handle the trip. I just can’t. Last time I went to Mt. Vernon (about 2.5 hours away) a few weeks ago, I thought I was going to die. I’m gettin’ old and this pregnancy is kicking my a*s.
So what am I going to do? Well, I just mopped the kitchen floor with the joy of knowing it will stay clean for more than 10 whole minutes, and I scrubbed the kitchen trash can knowing no little person is going to throw something sticky away in between the kitchen bag and the can for a few days. I am sewing some lunch bags for Rosey Posey and Posco for school next week, and UPS just dropped Archbishop Chaput’s book off on my doorstep. Tonight I am going to bake one, count them, only one calzone for supper (which is barely cooking at all) and hope it doesn’t send my blood sugar sky rocketing (which has also become an issue as of late-but I am tired of complaining, I have 5 months left to complain on this blog about that). I might even go to breakfast on my own one day.
It’s so weird that there was a time in my life that I started out as one person. Can’t remember…