Well, we finally did it. We left Little Man with a sitter.
Don’t get excited, it was a far cry from the romantic getaway that we’ve fantasized about… We spent it in the local Emergency Room.
Yesterday I awoke with acute abdominal pain that intensified as the day wore on. Husband rushed home from work when I could no longer tend to our children, and when things became downright unbearable, we headed to the hospital. (Do keep in mind that I gave birth to both our daughters without any drugs or epidural. I have a very high pain-tolerance.)
It was awful, we left during Little Man’s nap, certainly less than ideal for his first time with a sitter. Fortunately, both his sisters were there when he woke and report he was quickly soothed, after the initial upset, and had a fun time with the babysitter/neighbor.
It turns out I likely have a stress-induced ulcer. Who me? Stress? Ha! I was put on a regime of Prilosec, Pepcid, and Maylox and told to follow up soon with endoscopy (oh goodie!). The REAL bad news? I have to give up the following: coffee, spicy food, pickles, vinaigrettes, mustard and other vinegar based foods, and greasy food. Basically, all my favorites.
This leads me to…
Cocooning Survival Tactic #6:
Take care of yourself.
Now, I don’t mean this as a trite greeting that some folks employ as their personal tag-line. REALLY take care of yourself.
Sleep, fresh-air, exercise, nutritious food, buckets of water (I hear you, Lacey). I have yet to master this.
Since returning home from China, I have finally started to work out regularly again, in a seemingly futile attempt to lose the baby weight. (What?! Just because I didn’t carry him in my womb doesn’t mean there wasn’t stress/emotional eating happening. I was paper-pregnant, remember? This is very normal, just ask any of my fellow adoptive moms.) A few times a week I rise before the rest of the house and zip over to the neighborhood gym to
rock out to Disco burn some kcals via the elliptical machine and pump some iron.
In order for me to actually make this happen, I have to ensure I go to bed at a decent hour. This. is. so. hard. After the kiddos go to bed at night, it’s MY time. Husband’s time. Sacred time. Sanity reclaiming time. I want to stay up late, smooch my man, perhaps watch a non-animated film, and have intelligent conversation. But I can tell you, those mornings that I have successfully been “early-to-bed, early-to-rise”, I feel exponentially better for the remainder of the day. I return from the gym and craft the family a healthy breakfast, see Husband off to work with a sincere smile instead of begrudgingly stumbling out of bed as he’s pulling out of the driveway. I don’t suffer from an afternoon lull that often leads to a Starbuck’s run, and we zip through home-school with chipper efficiency.
I want to thrive in this motherhood gig, not merely survive. While taking care of myself seems like a selfish indulgence, it will actually allow me to better serve those in my care.
‘Cause look at them, they’re amazing…
In other news, Handsome Husband enjoyed a quick weekend Mancation to Vegas, where he met up with the Husband-half of our best friends and God-parents to our kiddos. It was a late birthday surprise to Husband, and an early graduation surprise from the Wife-half of our Besties to her husband, who will officially be a doctor in just a couple short weeks. It’s such a breath of fresh air to be post-adoption and have a little “extra” money (and lots of sky-miles) again.