I am breathing a sigh of relief today because, well, I can. I’ve been struggling with wardrobe issues for a couple of weeks as my belly is already taking up so much more room and even I can’t fool myself into thinking it’s the pants that are shrinking. I’ll be hitting 12 weeks tomorrow, still a couple of weeks away from the second trimester, and I’m not nearly ready to start into maternity clothes yet.
This morning I peeked into my bin of maternity clothes that I recently got back from a friend. Happily, I rediscovered the size 15 cords I bought after Jade was born when I was desperately bored with my mat jeans but couldn’t yet fit back into my pre-preggo stuff. Lovely, lovely, creamy (and stretchy!) cords. It’s so liberating to be able to breathe when I’m sitting down. Can I live in a single pair of pants for the next 4 weeks or so? I have a feeling I won’t be able to make it to 16 weeks, like I did last time, before breaking out the maternity pants. Which is sad because the danged maternity pants will feel too big and will be falling down all the time when I start wearing them.
But enough about wardrobe.
Another reason I am breathing a sigh of relief is because the stupid, gol-darned taxes have finally been filed. Yes, I got it done at the very last possible moment. I’ve never filed my taxes so late before, most years panicking if I didn’t have them done before the end of March. This year, the whole tax filing process, which I started working on two months ago, was a litany of not-very-funny errors, computer crashes, wiped-out hard drives, bookkeeping issues, administrative screw-ups, and filing woes. But now they’re done. So we can start look forward to being audited or something. Ha!
If I sound a little less than my usual cheery self today, it’s probably because I am feeling like an old shoe. I’m absolutely worn out and wondering if I should really just go home and go to bed. (Okay, yes, I’m at work, but I’m on my break now, okay?)
I took Jade to the doctor yesterday morning to check on one of her chicken pox spots that had an angry purple circle around it; I was concerned that it had somehow gotten infected. When I picked Jade up from the daycare, they told me that one of the workers there had also had chicken pox last week while Jade was at home. Surprising because she should have been immune to them. But I’ve been hearing all sorts of horror stories about recurring chicken pox over the last few weeks.
It was the first time I’d met Dr. Albertini, a jovial grandfatherly type who kept calling me “Mama” and told me I was a good mother. He reassured me that Jade’s purple welt was just a bruise, possibly caused by scratching or some trauma (like walking into a toy) because the skin around the pox marks is more delicate than usual. I asked him about recurrence of chicken pox and was told that, while rare, it can happen if one’s immune system gets depressed. He said that usually happens when people push themselves too hard and don’t get enough rest.
This is going to sound so hokey, but I was so determined to stay healthy at least long enough to be able to perform on Saturday that I’ve been actively sending myself positive thoughts for the past couple of weeks. When I felt tired and worried about getting sick, particularly after spending a couple of hours with Jade breathing her virus-laced breath into my face, I’d fiercely redirect my thoughts, imagining a great performance and myself the picture of health.
I don’t know if it helped, but now with the dance behind me, the brunch on Sunday, Michael’s going away and the epic bike ride on Monday, Big Band rehearsal on Tuesday, and finally taxes yesterday, suddenly I’m finding myself totally drained. I wonder if I’ve pushed myself a bit too hard. I wonder, if my immunity tank had a gauge on it, what it would read. Because I don’t have enough juice left to jolly myself into a better frame of mind. Also, I can’t seem to stick to a topic on this blog post. Which has got to say something.
