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Weekend's...End (By Definition)
Apr. 10th, 2005 11:22 pmJust want to take a moment off the top here to thank my friend chaplinlover for her kind info re the whole Master Choice baby-food scandal—this actually wasn’t much help per se, since what I’d been feeding Cal was from Heinz. But it’s nice to know somebody who cares is paying attention.;)
Since we all ended up with varying degrees of the bug in the end, there was no point in going to Ad Astra. My apologies to anybody who thought they’d see me there and were disappointed, but I wouldn’t have been much fun. I’m not a whole lot of fun right now, though significantly better.
Cal, meanwhile, is his old self, pretty much—a hundred pounds of trouble in a twenty-pound bag, continually tormenting himself with his own inability to realize or accept that he is a baby who exhausts his own limits and has to rest every once in a while, even if he wants to do anything but. His latest trick? Standing. He pulled himself up by the bars of his crib, loved it, so obviously that meant he had to do it again and again in quick succession, and now he won’t settle if you put him back in the damn crib, because that’s now only reserved for standing rather than for sleeping. Yeah: Entirely back to fucking normal.
Still, at least he’s producing poo rather than diarrhea, and the cream the doctor prescribed for him is working to minimize that hideous rash. And if we’re lucky, we can get him to cry himself to sleep before he vomits all over everything; that’d be a real plus.
Okay, quiet…
For myself, I had a massage yesterday (it screwed me up intensely last night, but this morning I could see the benefits) and was finally able to work out again today, after two "dark days" of sick lassitude. The masseur told me to stop doing weights, because I was making demands my body couldn’t match; respectfully, I beg to disagree, since I’m now in better shape than I was before I got pregnant, and that is all due to muscle-work. But I’ll switch to just doing machines and the toning routine with minimal weights for the rest of the week, see how that goes. And I may even go back in a week or so, if our budget allows for it.
Naturally, however, writing has fallen by the wayside. I’m inputting notes tonight, trying to get myself back in the mood, and will put a definite push on tomorrow (probably while Mom and Steve go see "Ain’t Misbehavin’", her present to him for installing hispeed on her computer. Try to do 500 to 1,000 words, see how that goes. ‘Cause it’s always good to have goals.
Okay: And here’s the next-to-last phase of the "movies" meme—like any of you were even looking for it, I’m sure. But anyway.
( Read more... )
And now I am overtaken with illness once more, so I’m signing off. Cal’s still asleep, there’s no TTC strike…all’s right with the world. Bon soir, mes amis.
Since we all ended up with varying degrees of the bug in the end, there was no point in going to Ad Astra. My apologies to anybody who thought they’d see me there and were disappointed, but I wouldn’t have been much fun. I’m not a whole lot of fun right now, though significantly better.
Cal, meanwhile, is his old self, pretty much—a hundred pounds of trouble in a twenty-pound bag, continually tormenting himself with his own inability to realize or accept that he is a baby who exhausts his own limits and has to rest every once in a while, even if he wants to do anything but. His latest trick? Standing. He pulled himself up by the bars of his crib, loved it, so obviously that meant he had to do it again and again in quick succession, and now he won’t settle if you put him back in the damn crib, because that’s now only reserved for standing rather than for sleeping. Yeah: Entirely back to fucking normal.
Still, at least he’s producing poo rather than diarrhea, and the cream the doctor prescribed for him is working to minimize that hideous rash. And if we’re lucky, we can get him to cry himself to sleep before he vomits all over everything; that’d be a real plus.
Okay, quiet…
For myself, I had a massage yesterday (it screwed me up intensely last night, but this morning I could see the benefits) and was finally able to work out again today, after two "dark days" of sick lassitude. The masseur told me to stop doing weights, because I was making demands my body couldn’t match; respectfully, I beg to disagree, since I’m now in better shape than I was before I got pregnant, and that is all due to muscle-work. But I’ll switch to just doing machines and the toning routine with minimal weights for the rest of the week, see how that goes. And I may even go back in a week or so, if our budget allows for it.
Naturally, however, writing has fallen by the wayside. I’m inputting notes tonight, trying to get myself back in the mood, and will put a definite push on tomorrow (probably while Mom and Steve go see "Ain’t Misbehavin’", her present to him for installing hispeed on her computer. Try to do 500 to 1,000 words, see how that goes. ‘Cause it’s always good to have goals.
Okay: And here’s the next-to-last phase of the "movies" meme—like any of you were even looking for it, I’m sure. But anyway.
( Read more... )
And now I am overtaken with illness once more, so I’m signing off. Cal’s still asleep, there’s no TTC strike…all’s right with the world. Bon soir, mes amis.
