A Year Without - Day 13

The Skype session with the Daddy did not go so well this morning. The internet connection on his end was Terrible. We ended up just IMing. I really missed seeing his face, although truthfully I think we communicate better via IM than we do any other way. Always have.

The B had diarrhea this morning. I was hesitant about bringing him to church because of it. I do not deal well with having to clean up poop away from home. But there was a lot, so I took the chance that he was cleaned out. He wasn't, but thankfully we didn't learn that until half an hour after we got home from church.

There was some broken glass this morning. I don't even remember what it was at this point. Benny got ahold of something and it broke in the living room. I wish I could say my vacuum sucks. But it sucks. I ran over the area 4 times and was still finding shards I could pick up with my hands. Ugh.

I told the kids it was time to get ready for church, and got the usual "I don't want to go to church!" I told her since there was no Daddy here for her to stay with, she had no choice. This of course made getting everyone READY for church a slow, painful, nobody listening to Mama process. I HATE getting ready to leave the house. It is rarely worth the effort. (Mass, of course, is always one of those times that it IS worth the effort.)

Somehow, even through that, we finally left on time for once. But nobody was fed. I cut some apple slices for them to eat on the way. 3 lights later, I realized I'd forgotten Sammy's EpiPen and inhaler, and had to turn around and go get them. So much for being on time. :(

I didn't know the music we were playing, but I figured, hey, why let that stop me. It's pretty easy to follow along in some kind of rhythmic sense. You know the offertory and communion songs will be slow-ish. And the opening and closing will usually have a faster tempo (although not this week.)

Mass was an adventure, as it usually is with small kids. Kerry, my angel, watched them for me, along with her own, while I attempted to play with the worship team. B took it upon himself to sing his own "Mama Bum!" ("Mama drum!") song QUITE LOUDLY, over and over, while I stood at the congas. Sam melted down after the girl in front of him went to the back and got one of the kids' activity sheets, because he wanted his own. B ran away, out of the sanctuary and into the hallway, and tried to go downstairs to the basement, at least 3 times. It left me wondering whether the effort, and what I'm having to ask of friends to accomplish being able to play, is really worth it.

When we left, there was no snack for K in the truck 'cause she decided she didn't like Pringles, and that was the only thing we had to eat in the truck. But she was hungry (I didn't manage to feed them before we left, like I should have, remember?) so she got into her predictable blood sugar too low/stubborn as she can be mode.

I asked her what kind of snack would make her happy, and she said, "Beans! Monica's tacos!" I'm always up for Monica's/not cooking. And I always know the kids will eat well when we order from there. This time I decided I wanted to try something new. Sammy got the carne asada tacos. I got a supposed bean burrito & and enchilada. When I got home, my "bean" burrito was the usual shredded beef one I get. I was mad. Oh, and we tried their new menu item, churros. B+K ate their usual beans and rice. Lots of them. I thought the food was kind of bordering on blech. Nothing has been tasting good to me lately. Not the Greek food I ate at Kerry's the other night. Not this...

Back at home, the kids destroyed, er... I mean played in, the basement while I wasted time on the computer, and talked to my Granny-Gran for a little while.

The baby has started kicking me when I lie on my belly. I guess (s)he is growing and protesting having his/her space invaded. It's about time to start putting something under me to make a belly hole now, too, I think. There is something noticeable to me there, now, when I lie on my belly. More than just the fat rolls, I mean.

Poor Sammy has been asking every day, "When is Daddy coming home?" Breaks my heart! I'm sure he remembers the answer I give him every time ("Daddy will be gone for a very, very long time. Until some time around Katie's birthday.") and just hopes that at some point the answer will be different.