Miscellaneous updates. You’d think with all this free time (hello, summer vacay!), I’d write more. For the last 2 weeks, my mom has been taking ToddlerA to swim lessons at the YMCA, which is worth 10 times the price paid for it, even if she never learns a single stroke because hello, even with (almost) three adults in the house, we are buried under Living and Baby Care. I’m doing laundry tonight because I ran out of clean underwear and I’m worn out from wading through the dirty clothes on the floor, and my husband just put away the clean laundry from last week, which was sitting you guessed it- on the floor.
So anyway, each morning ToddlerA wakes up, pretends to eat breakfast (usually a bowl of air) and puts on her “bathing soup”. She promises that today will be the day she kick-kick-kicks and does Big Arms and blows bubbles, but without words she gives us the impression that it will be a cold day in hell before she puts her face under the water. On Monday, accidentally, she DID put her face under when they practiced jumping and the instructor was making eyes at the lifeguard instead of paying attention, or something. I suppose she has learned somewhere along the way to keep her mouth shut under there, since she didn’t drown or puke water all the way home.
Tomorrow’s the last day for swim lessons and also the last day I will be sane or productive so I’m making it count; I plan to cook dinner in the crock pot and maybe clean the floors! Wait. Did I just mention cleaning the floors? In a positive way? Wtf?
LOOK! You can tell I went to the gym today because I’m not talking about how my entire second half of life will be spent in physical agony. Oh? I didn’t mention the pain? That’s probably because I knew you’d gotten sick enough of reading about my pain for all those months I was growing a person. Oh, all right. Just a quick description, then: pain, pain pain. Joints not moving without pain. Hours of pain every morning. Swollen joints and immobile fingers and toes. Unable to get from floor to standing without a boost. Body feels like one huge bruise. Also? Out of control glucose readings. Wonder what that means? Lab tests in the works. Aleve does nothing.
I’m re-reading Inflammation Nation in my spare time, and hoping that a regimen of oils and an extremely restrictive diet will relieve the freakish swelling. Of course, since I can’t EAT ANYTHING GOOD EVER, I’m not sure I’ll want to live after that anyway. But we’ll see. I stopped going to the gym for a couple of weeks in case the gym was making me hurt (oh man, I was thisclose to the perfect excuse not to work out) but no such luck.
Meanwhile, progress has been made upstairs. Walls are framed and wiring is done-ish. Now we face the decision so many DIYers before us have: borrow money to pay people to finish it, or spend the next year working nights and weekends to muddle through? I’m squarely in the borrow camp today, but yesterday I was all about learning to hang drywall on my own. Fuck, I’ve got a book called Plumbing Basics, how hard can it be? If you don’t see me for a while, it’s because I stuck a screwdriver in a live socket or something. If we don’t kill ourselves, I’ll get some before and afters. TeenHer is quite possibly going to be the coolest person she knows once her room is done. Yes, we’re putting bars on the windows.