Things have been very weird for me the last couple of days, as I am working on very little sleep, about four hours each of the last two nights. I am also physically messed up, as I am on a couple of different very strong medications for my continuing sinus problems in an attempt to remedy them more definitively. Follow up CT in 6 weeks to see if that’s working. So I’m sick to my stomach and not eating a whole lot, and I was up all night restless and too hot and unable to sleep, like the time I took the decongestant and buzzed all night long. But I did get a small workout in last night, and hope to do better tonight, even going on fumes. I am going to ignore the scale until I am off the Prednisone, but hope I am continuing to make progress downward.
But I finally had a good morning with my son. I really hope this is the beginning of the end of the SATAN phase, which has been exhausting. He seriously got himself completely dressed without me telling him to 800 times, was cheerful and silly and bopping around to the radio. He noticed the moon as soon as we went outside to get in the car and go to school – I love that he notices nature, I have encouraged that – and then told me a story about what it’s face look liked like, and how if the moon had legs it would fall down to the ground and maybe even bump into people’s cars. Then he made up some stuff about what the moon would say if it fell down and hit various things. Then he said he liked the song on the radio and wanted to know the name of the band, and I told him it was The Who, and after it was over I sang a snippet of another Who song that I thought he might recognize that he’s previously said he liked. Working that classic rock education, yeah mama.
I’ve missed that creative, funny boy. I hope he’s the one that comes to the Lion King on Sunday with me and his grandma, but I don’t hold out a lot of hope that we will be there longer than an hour. Saturday I am going to the Medieval Faire with two lovelies where we will sweat and act stupid and drink and eat too much and I will probably get burned to a crisp because Prednisone overtakes the abilities of my Greek skin, which resists burning for quite awhile.
Next weekend is a dance workshop, as my former instructor is in town doing a special gig. I know I will be the oldest, fattest and most injured in the class, but also know that dancing makes me feel free and beautiful and even young again, that ALIVE feeling I referenced in my last post, so I need it. It turns out that the workshop falls on the same day as a school fundraiser for a little boy from D’s class who is very, very, very sick with a Very Bad Liver Disease. Their child is also an only, like my D, and even thinking about getting that kind of news makes me unable to breathe, so I need to feel as alive as I can that day. I know I am lucky, every day, even when I don’t get the nicely behaved, funny kid.