Long list of things to do today, what with the eyeball surgery tomorrow and all. Baby food to make, groceries to buy, kitty litter to clean, stuff to have ready for my Mom so she can take care of the kids. I also had big plans of making some meals up in advance, but that's fallen by the wayside.
I've been thinking a lot about this, of course, and I don't care so much about the grossness that is the surgery itself, or the possibility of blindness or any of that...what I've been worrying about is the next two weeks, when I'm apparently not allowed to lift anything heavier than 10 pounds, and the next six weeks, when I'm not allowed to breastfeed.
Hello? We build our children hefty around here. Miss is somewhere around 40 pounds. I've been trying to mentally prepare her that I won't be able to pick her up for a little while. And she looks right at me, very seriously. Listening intently. Nodding a little. And then says "You want to pick me up?"
Jr is at least 23 pounds and almost immobile, and I guess that should alleviate my second worry too, since clearly he's not suffering nutritionally. We joke that this is just a little diet he has to go on because he's so fat. But it does upset me some. You know, to be told as an aside that as of tomorrow I'm going to have to wean him just like that.
Poor little guy. Off boobs, cold turkey. Poor little girl, off pick ups. Poor little Mrs. Poor little Mr.
There, all the boo-hoos are out of my system.