My little Lulo is at his first day of preschool today. I kissed him goodbye, he cried, he yelled MOOOOOOMMMY. And, I walked away. There he was, crying, gripping his little plastic penguin he is so obsessed with. Oh, this SUCKS.
I want to yack.
I am sitting here with the biggest lump in my throat. I think I have left over Zofran (from that fun pregnancy with the twins) but I don't think you can take it unless you are undergoing chemo or are puking so much that you are losing weight and dehydrated. Also, I think that Zofran doesn't really help with completely psychosomatic nausea.
Last year on this same day, March 10th, I was in a hospital bed with two monitors hooked up to me - one for Baby A, one for Baby B. I had been there for a little over 50 days at that point. Lulo was with my Mom. Every couple days he'd come to visit and I would have to let him go. He wouldn't cry because he was leaving with my Mom and she rocks. She is pretty much the best Gama in the world. But, I would cry every time his little stroller would go away. I'd want to yack then too.
Oh little Mama's Boy. I hope you are OK right now. I hope that you aren't crying and I hope that some little girl strikes your fancy so that this transition is easier. Well, actually, no, because I am not ready for you to have a girlfriend. Anywho. I can't work right now because I have no clarity. I will work when Lulo comes back. Because unless I know he is fine, how can I concentrate?
J seems fine by the way. Like a normal day in the office for him. How is he so sane? Is he the only living heart donor? Are all men so sane and unemotional about this? Is everything just a moment that will just pass?
On a real pleasant note, this morning my alarm went off at 4:45 am. I got up for EB like I always do and I couldn't walk. My knees ached so bad that I could not walk. I sort of shuffled. I barely got to the bathroom and when I collapsed on the Porcelain King, my knees throbbed. No way. So, I laid in bed and watched the clock, felt the throbbing knees, and let the nausea creep up as I thought about what the day ahead held in store.
There is, however, good news. I am NOT in my first trimester and puking. I am NOT pregnant and puking. I am NOT in a hospital. And today, I can get in a car, pick up my boy from his first day of school, comfort him if he needs it, and then come home and see my beautiful twins.
All can be right in the world, with my boys in my arms and without any Zofran.