I don't want to complain but . . . no, I do want to complain. I want to complain a lot. But how can I when I have so many great things in my life? Here is Ph helping Jasher put on his socks. These are the two most adorable boys in the world.
I've just spent a lot of time lately in a lot of pain. It makes it hard for me to be the mommy I always wanted to be.
I really hate putting things in a scale of 1-10. When someone asks me to rate on a scale of 1-10, I usually try to put on my best if-I-had-a-gun-I'd-shoot-you-right-now look. But I'm slowly starting to appreciate the pain scale, 1 being only a slight pain, 10 being pain so bad you're about to pass out. I think I spent most of last night at a 5 or 6. As I interpret it, a 6 is when the pain is so distressing it takes over your senses and you can't dwell in anything else. Well, I definitely couldn't sleep. All I had was an ice pack for comfort as I cried silently for hours, trying not to wake anyone. Don't worry about the baby, ya'll. He's fine and dandy, and I'm sure he'd be happy to hang in there till full term, delaying my chance to actually get pain reliever meds.
Anyway, I'm tired. But my kids and husband have been so wonderful, today I'm just filled with love for them. And I was wondering how it is possible to be miserable and happy at the same time? I don't understand it, but its true.
The Pixie Shtick