Being off my medication makes my inner Sunday soul singer shout Hallelujahs the way only a gospel LEGEND can! I have a brain again! I can think again! I am HEALED! Well, minus the usual pregnancy qualms and the having the constant queasies. (I made that word up right now and I really like it now that I’ve tried it out.)
My life is like a Claritin commercial right now. My brain-fog has cleared!
It reminds me of first getting contacts, after the school nurse finally called home to request an optometry appointment. (Ask my mom how many years she encouraged me to “look harder” when I couldn’t see things. LOL Michelle.)
It’s like, I didn’t even know trees had real life leaves until eighth grade.
Ditto to right now.
Now that my brain feels less drugged, I’m realizing a few things.
First and foremost, my self-image is, apparently, much more flattering than my mirror image, because my actual reflection threatens my body morphing into some kind of Nicki Minaj shape.
And not sexy.
And super white.
I’m not sure where that leaves me. In Brian’s side of the closet, probably.
Or my favorite silky jammies.
My house is insane from me not caring about it for months. Did someone move into the pantry, or what’s going on in there?
I also have no doubt that my body really might think it’s a decrepit 90 year old. As it turns out, feeling like my body is falling apart was not a medication side effect. I’ve already mentioned to Brian (in between begging for back rubs) that if this is a glimpse of what’s to come in old age, I think mid-seventies is a solid life for me.
As for what’s happening this week:
We’re preparing for Halloween around these parts! Our costumes are ready to go, and Halloween Mickey has been recorded and watched on repeat for the past week. Roscoe says daily, “It’s just pretend!” He became well versed on that sentiment in the Home Goods and Hobby Lobby aisles last month after needing constant reassuring. He crouched away in the basket from any Halloween décor the first half of the month, and I couldn’t help but kiss his nervous face every time…which was the whole shopping trip. Neither of us minded the mom-smothering and unnecessary holding.
My boys are just little, but they sure make holidays seem more festive and exciting!
And funny. My guys make everything really funny.
Gus is prime age for all the, “Wait, what?” comments that make me laugh so hard the baby moves.
Gus appeared at my bed shortly after bedtime the other night (which is startling, even with it being a more decent hour than 2AM), saying with a smile, “I am not tired…and you are at my mercy.”
This is a universal Mom Truth, but I’m sure I’ve never verbalized it. Where does he come up with this? More importantly, how did he figure out he has the upper hand in offering mercy?
Or what about Gus hanging onto every moment of my brother visiting from college, and as my brother inhaled to blow out birthday candles, Gus excitedly asked, “ARE YOU WISHING FOR A LAWN MOWER!?”
Four years old might be my new favorite.
My anatomy ultrasound is tomorrow. With this being my third baby (and me being (slightly) wiser), I recognize the importance of this ultrasound, and I always get a little anxious waiting to make sure baby girl is healthy and developing well. I can’t wait to see her in what might very well be her last ultrasound!