Butterfingers

I wish!

Lately, I've been experiencing some pain and nausea that is far too familiar, a pending Doctor's appt. is in the works. Besides battling the usually discouragement that accompanies such pain, oddly I've been experiencing a new symptom. My nursing self would diagnose this as "at risk for breaking anything valuable as evidence by the inability to contain said stuff in my grasp, related to stress-induced/mind-numbing chronic illness".

Night #1: I am so nauseated I can barely think about food, but given I had not had anything to eat since the am I make myself a bowl of plain oatmeal. I sit, bowl in lab, for quite some time trying to motivate the spoon to my mouth. Not successful. So instead I decided to play a game of checkers on my handy-dandy iphone4. Again, not successful. Instead, I drop my entire phone into my bowl of oatmeal and watch it sink (along with my heart) like the Titanic. My sweet husband sees me staring at my bowl of oatmeal with a side of iphone4 and quickly cleans it off for me.

Following morning: I wake up rested and refreshed after a long night's slumber, completely oblivious to the events of the night before. I make myself a bowl of cereal (I'm more eager to try food at this point) and walk confidently towards the living room to my favorite couch. Not successful. I barely make it two steps out of the kitchen before the bowl JUMPS out of my hands and lands atop my pooch. He did not mind being covered in milk and Crispex cereal. The carpet however did mind. After I raised my chin and cleaned the mess, I thoroughly enjoyed a new breakfast.

Night #2: My sweet mom sent us home with leftover enchiladas and a side of gf chocolate cupcakes, given I feel more like poop and less like a chef these days.

* At this point in my story I feel compelled to let the blogging world know I am not pregnant. Nausea is something I have simply become accustomed to in my everyday life.

So, riding home with food in-tow, my right foot suddenly decides it would rather be covered in icing than happily nestled in my shoe. Now, with Matt's cupcake officially ruined (I already ate mine) I pick up the remains off the floorboard and try to dispose of them appropriately. Can you guess what phrase goes here? That's right, not successful. In picking up the cupcake from the passenger floorboard, I some how manage to toss it onto the floorboard in the backseat. Luckily, we always travel with a living, breathing Dyson vacuum, so he promptly cleaned it up. Thanks Trist for constantly helping mommy clean up her messes. Needless to say, Trist hasn't left my side for the last 24 hours.