My inner world is complicated. Whose isn’t, right? Within all its normal complexity, it also feels pulled apart like warm Silly Putty, which is a fun, twisty mix of chaos, cheese slices, and gripping the wheel.
I must not be doing that badly. I still have my sense of humor.
Evelyn got a shot today. She was supposed to have two, but after the first, she reverted to a nonverbal, whimpering state, with her best friend becoming the spot where the two walls met. I, having been forced in medical situations to do things I didn’t want to do (and could have been given a choice), have a strong boundary in place that I will support her.
When the doctor tried to continue positioning Evelyn, her tense body wiggling away, I stood and said, “I will not let this happen without her okay.”
And after a few more minutes, Dave picked up Evelyn, and we were out of there.
She’s okay. Really, she is. Except for the belt she’s tied around her waist and over her arm to keep it from pulling up and flexing the muscle in pain, she’s fine.
Me? Not so much.
I got pretty triggered in there. Being a mom is such a vulnerable experience, and knowing what is best in certain moments is not always clear.
I want an all-beef hot dog.
I’m obsessed with wanting one. The announcer of the Mariners game talked about the Dodgers’ dog, which sent me on a rabbit hole online about the prices of them, leaving me wondering if I could get some shipped to me here in Georgia. With nacho cheese. That’s how the announcer likes them.
That’s weird thinking, right?
I don’t care!
When that hankering kicks in, I do weird stuff.
Like that time I paid, like, $50 in shipping to get a creamy honey macadamia butter shipped to me from Hawaii. I’d had it years before, and its otherworldly confectionary delight needed to be in my pantry. And tummy.
Man, I miss all those tips I once got from poker dealing.
With that, I’ll skedaddle.
We’re midweek, aren’t we? Two days until those easy-breezy weekend vibrations.
Let’s go.
Love, Jaclynn
Leave a Reply