Babysitting. The other white pill. (it's not supposed to make sense)
I watched Noah and Nick last night and man-o-man is that a great reminder that I cannot tolerate children for long. I know if they're yours its different but I'm willing to guess at least 50% of the time I wouldn't care that they were from my uterus. If I had them.
They're not even bad kids. They're just kids. Demanding and smart. You can't ignore them because they just come and tell you weird shit or yell for you. You can't ignore them because that's child abuse. Well a light form but I don't see the point in having them if you're not going to pay attention. That's just setting the world up for another psycho or a-hole. (just take a peek at my office pool)
Nick was watching tv and quietly existing. Noah did pretty well entertaining himself too. Then all of a sudden there was a dirty diaper. I start to change it and its no big deal. But as I'm cleaning up his bum and admiring his rolls---he farts. Little punk. Watching a fart come outta a baby's butt isn't cute.
The next task. Dinner. Noah sucks down his meal and Nick informs me he's hungers. So I ask him what he'd like and I get the cereal response. I know it isn't bad to eat cereal because I know its healthy but I'm thinking let's try something more nutritious. So I ask what he had for lunch. He can't remember and is irked that I want him to eat something else. I begin listing possibilities. Fruit, milk, cheese, tomatoes, blah blah. No, no, no. I said why don't you have a taco. That's what your parents ate for dinner. He tells me he only eats healthy food. Not the first time I've heard this tune. To which I cleverly reply (so I think), "It is healthy. It's organic hamburger meat that has little fat and you can top it with tomatoes, lettuce and avocado; all of which are vital to daily nutrition." I remind him about his omegas, licopene and vitamin c. He denies it. He tells me, "So sorry. I don't want that." What the hell am I supposed to say to that? I take a deep breath and search for more food. He gives into a kiddie frozen dinner. To which I willingly make because it takes no effort on my part and he's happy. However I do remind him that its high in sodium and probably processed on some level which isn't healthy in comparison to the tacos which are ready to eat! (He looks at me, smiles and walks to his table.) Then he announces while I'm back to feeding the tiny dude that he is thirsty. (and it begins all over again)
Such a simple task but so much patience. I'm exhausted from having this conversation with him. I look at the clock. 7:30pm. Bed time is at 8:30pm.
I'm still feeling tired and my insides are a little unhappy at times. I got home after the sitting and my right ovary decided to send shots of pain for what felt like an eternity. Walking hurt. Damn ovary. You better be sending a dead ova down my tube!
Then the dogs crawl on top of me and I fight for a small spot on a bed that could sleep 3 humans. What the hell is wrong with this picture? I need to lay down the doggie law. When I can bend and not ache, I will.
I'm consistently running a low grade fever too. It's not cause for alarm but just enough to make me wonder from time to time if my liver is still trying to heal itself after such a traumatic needle poke. Liver tears are blood and that's never a good thing.
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