Obligation

i don't really have anything significant to post about, but it's been a few days, and i feel like i should say something or this whole thing is just going to fall into that pile of things that i've started and never finished.

that pile is already enormous and composting, so if this gets thrown on top, it's going to get eaten by the bacteria created by guitar lessons, running, daily baby massages, half of the jobs i've worked, shaving my legs more than once a month, wearing make-up, and all the other failed endeavors of my life. :)

the herbal tea for JP's ear infection is doing its job. the antibiotics? notsomuch. the initial dose was too low and the infection spread to the other ear and to his chest. the day before we got on a plane for an impromptu trip to see daddy.

i warned everyone who sat around me. i also gave the boy benadryl before boarding. i had a nice ring of free space created by annoyed travelers who wanted nothing more than to be as far from a screaming baby as they could legally get, and he slept the whole plane ride. WINNER! he's on a higher dose now and things are clearing up, in case you were concerned.

on the topic of obligation, let's talk about ham.

i hate ham. hate it. all forms. no piggies for me. i ate vegetarian for quite a while-- pregnancy made me lose so much weight that i had to come back to my old friend meat to put pounds back on so my cute little sea monkey could grow. but i've never been able to reconcile with pork.

i'm not sure why i hate pork so much. i could make up reasons for the sake of being funny--something about an attachment to porky pig or thinking that pork was made from toes from playing too much "this little piggie", but the truth is, i just don't like it. i don't enjoy the texture, flavor, or color.

when my brother passed away 5 years ago, we got 4 (FOUR) entire hams. ENTIRE. whole. frickin. hams. we were told it's a polish thing? funeral hams? ham is some super food and if you freeze it, it lasts forever (yet another reason, in my opinion to be scared of it). none of us like ham.

i find myself dreading going to other people's holiday celebrations because i'm always afraid that someone will have raised, killed, cured, and honey baked a ham in their backyard and will be offended if i do not eat it. or they will have shelled out ungodly amounts of money for a ham and will likewise be offended, even though they put no work in and were dumb enough to spend that kind of moolah on a FRICKIN HAM.

perhaps ham has a direct influence on my love for jews?

anyway, i was in labor with my son for 28 hours, and modern day docs won't let you eat while in labor (there is no legitimate logic to this. i can't even make jokes about it. if you look up the reasons why you aren't supposed to eat, it's part of an obnoxious cycle started by impatient doctors. but that's a soapbox rant, and this is not a soapbox. it's a blog. it's not even 3 dimensional). so when i finally had my son at 6:37 am, we finished things out, got him into the nicu, and breakfast was served. i WOLFED it down. we're talking takeru kobayashi style. and then i asked for another tray.

nurse- "oh, honey, we're serving our christmas lunch today!! it's going to be a huge portion, i promise you're going to want to save room!!"

this nurse was angelic to me during my 28 hours of labor. she was hilarious, understanding, just great. so i felt obligated to take her advice, against my better judgment (and the screams from my STARVING body).

3 hours later, a tray is presented to me. my son is still in the nicu, i have all this time to eat and relax. i slowly, happily open the lid, expecting an enormous serving of turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, apple and pumpkin pie, sweet potatoes, the works.

it's a chunk of freakin ham. one measly scoop of mashed potatoes, and that's it. this is what i've waited 3 hours on an empty stomach for. now i have nothing to eat for lunch. hilarious. awesome. wonderful. even better?

baby came back from the nicu at dinner time. aside from babysitters, i have not eaten a single meal without interruption since then.

let this be a warning unto you: just because someone has spent 28 hours staring at your cash and prizes and coaxed you through the pain of pushing a watermelon out of a lemon, that does not mean you have to do what she says. feel free to hit her and demand more pancakes.

you'll thank me for that later.