|a total of three, but this impacted one was the "doozy"|
All in all, the family is surviving nicely. Husband has had a slow couple of days, so everyone is fed and clean and relatively happy. We are having long quiet times here, where we each occupy a corner of the apartment, playing with legos or reading books or catching up on The Daily Show. The lights are off and today it gently rains and if it weren't for the ubiquitous ache in my jaw, I'd be quite pleased.
But instead I'm sore and tired and have got the dry mouth and miss food. Have I mentioned food? I miss it! All the chewing and the eating. Oh, how I miss it. It turns out the whole experience of food eating isn't just about how it tastes on your tongue. My tastebuds are still intact and the pizza I "ate" today was good. But without the ability to chew and crunch and use those fine molars, eating is slow and exhausting and not very fun. Within a few centimeter-sized bites, I'm ready to give up.
Diet Coke tastes the same and ibuprofen is my friend. The sweatshirt I've been wearing for two days might smell just a little bit. My face is hideous and I'm thankful for long frizzy hair to hide the massive, bruised goiter that juts out to the left (is that how goiter is spelled? I've never had to use it before). I look disturbingly like the Wii Mii the boy created for me some two years and 40 pounds ago.
My bed and I are BFFs, and as I try to find a comfy way to sleep with my fat face and sore teeth, I thank the man who put that pallet headboard together. I may look weird, feel gross and tired, am starving and strung out on hydrocodone, but that pallet headboard says I am loved and at home. And the plethora of stuffed animals tucked in around me say my children want me better. And the toddler asleep on my chest says there is no better time than right now for a long cuddle.
Ok, so it's not so bad.