Tuesday, June 17, 2008


Today, for the first time in 2 and a half weeks, I did not feel like a medically induced coma would be the best place for me. I'm 8 1/2 weeks, and not sure whether to feel afraid of the sudden reduction in fatigue and nausea, or grateful for it. At least either way I don't have long to wait - I have another ultrasound next Friday. And I don't feel fabulous, mind. I just don't feel like spending 20 out of every 24 hours in bed. I actually even enjoyed the taste of my lunch. Apparently, the twins like a barbeque sammich, so I made sure I gave them each one. Sigh. I fear for my girth.

The Kraken's grateful receipt of attention this evening made me aware that I've been neglecting more than the laundry these last few weeks. I have spent very little time with my best girl. She's been a good sport. Sure hope she's as forgiving when the interlopers arrive.

We're still a little in shock in the Gorgon household, and still trying to figure out how to make the money part work. I'm actually not at all afraid of coping with the actual raising of the twins. I know I can handle that. It's just the extra $12K a year in daycare I wasn't banking on. We've run the numbers, and the Minotaur really can't quit his job, so we're going to have to cobble the bucks together somehow. It will work out, I know. I just don't have a master plan on paper yet, and I am not a girl who deals well with not having the master plan.

I'm going to go try to have a conversation with my husband that doesn't involve me moaning for popsicles.

1 comment:

bon said...

Sympathy, empathy and all SORTS of "pathies" for you! Hooo boy!