I have been home from Memphis since late Tuesday night.
I think I might have posted it before *cough* but I think that Memphis is a super fun town. *cough* I am skinny by all Memphis standards. And in need of several fried pickles. *cough* Which are fan-freaking-tastic if you never have had one. I was skeptical for sure.
Oh, and I have bronchitis. Self-diagnosed, of course, courtesy of my internet M.D. It’s how I knew that Mimi had the croup. And now I have the adult version of it.
I tried to take myself to urgent care today for some kind of narcotic preparation so I can maybe sleep tonight but I got lost. I forgot where I was going and Ella and I ended up practically downtown before I discovered my mistake. Maybe I shouldn’t drink Tussin and drive? Kidding. Tussin isn’t even touching this.
And I pee just a little with every cough. So…that’s fun.
Needless to say, I haven’t been to fat camp. At all. In a whole week. How’s that for flushing $39 down the toilet? I figure that when I can walk to the end of the driveway and get the mail without wheezing, I’ll go back to the treadmill. Until then, I’m still looking for the next nap.
I didn’t gain anything while I was gone. We walked all over the place and I did hit the “gym” at the hotel. I watched what I ate even though it doesn’t seem like it. I didn’t go nuts like I usually do when faced with multiple days of eating out. You know, big salad at least once a day. Stopped when I was full. One beer a day. I don’t think that’s so bad.
Wait? Who am I?
Have I changed?
Probably. And I am encouraged because the numbers on the scale are moving again. In the right direction. The funny thing is, I am back to the weight I was one year ago. All this work…just to be back to square one. I am in better shape, for sure.
Whenever I get back from a trip or time away from my littles, I get to meet them all over again. I know it was just three days but when did Ella become a big girl?
She has a loose tooth. Did I mention that? She is adding. And counting backwards from 20. She reads to her sister. She thinks and thinks and thinks. She thinks about how butterflies die after they lay their eggs. And how monsters are not in her bedroom because monsters do not like things that smell good and home always smells good.
And then there’s my baby. Who is not a baby at all anymore, it seems. She is assertive and sweet and manipulative and cuddly and antagonizing all at the same time. Just like a little sister should be.
I have been thinking about Will a lot lately too. I don’t know why. I just keep wondering…what our life would be like. You know, if he had lived. Or, if he had never gotten sick. He’d be finishing first grade this year.
I have another post brewing about Will. I found a CD with pictures of him at 4-6 days old. Most of my pictures of him are from a film camera (it was 2002 after all) but a few of the grandparents had digital.
My boy Will.
Don’t know what made me think of him. Maybe it was all the alone time. Or the baptism in church last Sunday of a little boy, who at 2 months old, is a total chunker just like my boy was. Or maybe it was the tattoo discussion with a fellow stagehand. Memorial tats are a wee bit creepy if you ask me but I have committment issues and, well, having both a son and a husband in heaven is a permanent event.
Not like all those badly advised cartoon character tattoos out there. I might have seen them all on Beale Street along with the shirts that had no pants (somebody told those girls that they were dresses when, in fact, they were not) and the gaggle of drunk empty nesters out after 11.
Lots to see.
I’m just thinking of Will today. Maybe it’s because I don’t feel so well and I keep wondering if this is how Stephen felt with that cough that wouldn’t go away and no wonder he was so tired. And then the guilt sets in.
And then I miss my son. And then more guilt. Because I can’t imagine doing this with three littles. And I’m kind of really glad that I only have two at the moment. And who thinks like that?
Because I’m tired. And I feel yucky. And my chest hurts.
But, hey, I’m not hungry.
Maybe all this coughing is good for my abs.
How’s that for a positive attitude?