So while Dan was out of town and alone today at a cousin’s wedding (something he rarely does) and I was here holding down the fort (something I often do), I threw up again.  Sorry to mention this, but you’ll see where I’m going with it in a sec.  The kids stood around the toilet watching.  It’s our new spectator sport, apparently.  And when I was finished and hanging limply over the bowl, snot running onto my lips and eyes watering, Grant commented that it looked like my orange juice had come back for a visit, which nearly made me smile except that I was afraid to move my lips cause I wasn’t totally sure I was really done.  So I didn’t.  Smile.  And I’m smiling even less now that the kids are in bed and I’m realizing that this new habit of mine will become fodder for rumors.  It’s only a matter of time before one of them mentions to a teacher or a friend’s mom that I’ve been doing the pukas a lot lately.  And I’m absolutely, definitely not pregnant, but that won’t matter cause it’s what people will think.  What I would think.  And so I’ll have to try harder than ever to appear perky and put together and I’ll spend wicked amounts of time in my closet looking for something to wear with the solitary criteria of not looking pregnant.  Because I’m absolutely, definitely not.  I’m feeling all self-conscious just thinking about it.  So this is me.  Being real and telling you that I’m absolutely, definitely not pregnant, just refluxy and waiting to get into a gastrointerologist in January, which can’t come soon enough.  And even though it perhaps wasn’t the most stellar of solo flights today, there was goodness in the form of getting a haircut and brow and lip wax this morning that left me feeling more like myself and less like Hugo Chavez.  And sweetness in chapters read with the boys snuggled up in their blankets while I tried to do the voice of the beaver in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe (our new favorite book).  And even humility in the form of some mild anxiety tonight that has me ready to crawl into bed with my journal and my Bible and chat with God to see if we can’t get it all sorted out.  And looking forward to worshiping in a new place tomorrow morning which I’ll tell you all about as soon as I know myself.  Good stuff, being here.  How are things where you are?


3 Replies to “rumor.”

  1. Things where I am are better now that I heard from you. I just want to throw out there the thought of a brown eyed Lulu with blond curly hair and freckles. That doesn't sound so bad, does it? It's the only combination you don't have.
    I am going to pray tonight you sleep well, and don't have the pukas.
    I'll see you at the new place (you know who you are) tomorrow

    love you deep


  2. After spending the morning cleaning up after the whirling dervish of destruction, yes, it does sound too bad. Besides, a brown eyed Lulu would be absolutely too much. Just too much.
    Love you deep too.


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