It has been determined that a school lunch does not sufficiently fill Micah, so we supplement that with a packed lunch as well. He insists that he have a sandwich, and I'll toss in a yogurt, applesauce, and some veggie sticks of some sort. You know, pretty much a full meal. And his aide tells me that he eats it all, in addition to his entire tray of cafeteria food. The good news is that he doesn't come home from school and ask for food the minute he walks in the door. He waits a good hour now.
Becky was packing his lunch the other day and gave him a choice between green peppers or grapes. He chose green peppers. She walked into the pantry to get him an applesauce cup and saw the onions on the shelf. The boy loves onions like I love chocolate. He'll pick a peeled one up and eat it like an apple. The boy is strange. And has really bad onion breath. She thought she'd be the best big sister ever and give him the choice of an onion, which of course he jumped all over, putting back the green peppers to make room. I told her to give him both, for crying out loud. It's not like onions fill you up.
(I want to insert here that, despite what it must seem, we love Micah's personal aide immensely. I do, however, feel badly that she has to smell his breath all afternoon. It's a shame he doesn't chew gum, or like mints.)
Becky chose a particularly strong onion, and was tearing up as she was cutting it. She used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes as she continued to chop away. Micah watched, enthralled that he was getting his favorite veggie for his lunch bag. Becky made him a very happy little boy that day.
This morning, Micah and I were packing his lunch. I made him an egg sandwich and he grabbed the onion out of the fridge. He helped me bag his sandwich, and I got a knife to cut onions with. I turned around for a second, and Micah decided to do the onions himself. The boy was tapping on the onion with the knife while rubbing his eyes with his other hand, making an incredibly comical "boo-hoo" sound and smiling.
Making fun of your big sister. Awesome in quite a few ways.
I Really Needed That at 6:30 In The Morning
I Have Definitely Fallen, And I Highly Doubt I Can Get Up
I have found that when I get sleep in 1.5 hour increments, my body somehow fails to cling to any millisecond of time it has to rest, but instead will lay awake for over 30 minutes wondering why on EARTH it's not sleeping. Taking sleep aids is counterproductive to being up every 90 minutes, so there I lie, wondering what the heck is wrong with me, wishing I could be asleep. I do a lot of praying in the nighttime hours.
After two days of running on pure stress-fueled adrenaline and multiple vet runs, I crashed. On Day 3 I slept. I rushed through daytime feedings like I do at night so that I could escape back to my bed and get another ninety minutes of rest. It didn't help a whole lot with the tired; in fact, I think it made me realize just how tired I really am. If I looked like a zombie at church on Wednesday night, I looked like the Zombie Queen by Thursday evening. But that was alright because my highest amibition was to get back to bed.
After the 11PM feeding I realized I didn't have enough formula mixed to get me through the night. And a look through the pantry told me that I lacked the ingredients to make more.
Crap. Crap crappity double crap.
In case you're wondering how people get down to the depths that they're wallowing in, you now know what will lead a Zombie Queen to shop at Walmart after midnight. (And by Zombie Queen, I really mean "Dang, that girl be high on something.") And just as bad as the fact that I looked like death warmed over on low heat is the fact that I also shopped for baby bottle nipples and girdles. For the dog, of course. I expect to be featured on an upcoming People of Walmart edition.
