Friday is the day. We have an appointment set up with the Occupational Therapist that works in the same office as the kids' PT for Friday at 1:00. I am actually anticipating this evaluation. I need to know if there are things triggering my kids, or if he is just an abnormally terrible two. I think I would rather there be Sensory issues; that, at least, I can work with. A bratty two year old boy? I have yet to hear a cure for that.
I hate hospital food. I hate it so much, that when I was on bed rest, I didn't eat anything in the hospital but fruit plates and yogurt. My doctor was angry that I wouldn't eat other foods; eat it for the babies, they said. But when I tried, I puked it all up. So what good was eating it, if I couldn't keep in down?
Everyday, Carl brought me food from somewhere, anywhere, that wasn't the hospital. (This was before kids, so we actually had money for these things!) Sometimes lunch, always dinner, always something good and palatable. I put on more weight in two weeks of bed rest than in the previous two months of pregnancy. (Note: That is what eating out steadily will do for you.) My Mom told me to stop being so picky. Such a baby I was! Just suck it up and eat hospital food. But, luckily for me, I had this great new husband, and he was probably still wanting to impress me. So I was allowed whatever I wanted. I mention this simply because this was one of our first bonding times. Silly, I know, but it meant so much at the time:-)
I'm looking for a job. Part-time, nights and weekends, just for a little extra money. We are more strapped financially with the new house, so it would really help. Plus, we've decided that it would be good for me to get out and "socialize". (At least that's what I'm being told by my husband and mother.) I think they fear my becoming too "hermitish". Here I am, so proud of myself finally becoming all domesticated (is that a word?), and they're telling me to lose a little of that domesticity that I have worked so hard to achieve! I'm not really complaining, I am actually excited at the prospect of venturing out of the house for a few hours here and there to just be me. Not Mama, or Wife, just Kelli. I'm not sure I remember who I am, but it should be fun remembering.