Baby Hugs Change Lives

It’s not very funny how a few minutes at work…stretched over too many minutes at work…can turn your day to shit. But then it IS funny how out of the blue your baby boy can come up and crawl up on your lap while you’re typing away in some annoying document and wrap his arms around your neck and squeeze and actually pat your back in one of the most touching little hugs and it can shift your perspective back to where it should be.

And then it’s even better when your wife gets home and you can really vent and let the curse words and needless insults fly. Needless? Maybe that’s not the right word. Vulgar and insensitive, those may be better descriptors. Regardless, these things are cathartic, especially when you’d normally have some exercise to really help shift those moods and instead you have a bum left knee.

Fucking knee.

It still doesn’t hurt really, don’t get me wrong there. It IS still swollen, though, and knees are things you don’t risk, so I’m still Resting. Icing. Cdrinking wine. Elevating.

Liam hasn’t been a sleeper the last couple of nights. I fear he’s taking after me—waking up in the wee hours of the morning and spinning and tossing and turning and pissed about it, except I’ve finally stopped crying…sorta. So I got maybe four good hours of sleep last night. Maybe five. It’s hard to say with these stupid dreams filling my subconscious.

I got up before 7:00, that I know, but I’m not sure quite when it was, and I was surprised by how good of a mood I was in. Even when I was up with Liam at 4:00 (and 5:00) and he was tossing around and not sleeping, I was in a decent mood. I didn’t really mind. I was agreeable. We spent time in the bag then time in the bed then we got up. I drank a Blue Machine to start the day and took my decent mood to work.

I ate my two packs of oatmeal and flax. I drank my mocha. They were interrupted by a call to a particular office, which I put off while I finished my breakfast…and then the day turned to shit for a while. That’s work, I guess. I won’t air those things here. I’ve already sent an email or two I probably should have swept under the couch. These things happen.

I didn’t do any exercise at the office other than sitting on the ball all morning and clenching my fists in anger. I didn’t even listen to music. I tried to work on my immediate task at hand. I didn’t do so great. Progress was made, but when you’re constantly pulled into meetings…constantly setting up meetings…constantly annoyed by someone…productivity can be hard. This is life. I usually like my job. Really.

I ate some almonds, and was upset (yesterday) to realize I’d bought unsalted ones but they’re still good so I ate them anyway. I ate a banana. And here was a first for me: I ate an Asian pear. I’d never just eaten any kind of pear before. Weird probably, right? I tell you, I’m still working hard to improve my diet. I’m still trying hard to eat new things; incorporate the untested and untried in my life. So I had this pear, and I ate a decent amount of it but surely not as much as others would and I wouldn’t even try to say I liked it…but I did eat it. I wished I’d grabbed an apple instead, but I ate that pear. That’s what it takes sometimes.

Liam wasn’t into napping today either, which means he was up all afternoon, which makes work a bit harder, but when you have as much to do as I do right now, it means you feel bad about not paying your son the attention he wants and needs because you’re trying to get work done, and sometimes he sits in your lap and then tries to hit the keyboard which can be annoying when you’re already annoyed, but he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s playing. He’s trying to get my attention. He’s imitating me, which makes me sad that he imitates me working. And he gave me that hug later. I love my son.

I made a peppered turkey sandwich for lunch: mustard, double fiber bread, lettuce. Swiss cheese. Newman’s Own Pretzel Sticks. (I don’t believe the story on the bag, either.) I made Liam a miniature version. He really likes the pretzels. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, largely because I’m nursing this knee.

Fucking knee.

When Angie got home, I DID do a lot of pushups. It’s about all I could do. I did pushups with Liam crawling on my back. I did pushups with my feet on the couch. I did regular pushups. I did pushups with my hands on the stairs. I cleaned the kitchen. Honestly, I cleaned the kitchen BEFORE the pushups. Then I made pesto, and a whole lot of it. It was a mix of sweet basil and purple Thai basil and a gypsy pepper, all from the garden, plus so much garlic I’ll probably smell of it tomorrow and some salt and pepper and olive oil and parm and pine nuts. That was mixed with some whole wheat spaghetti and some chicken breast I’d cut up and sautéed in some Italian salad dressing. That’s the lazy way of spicing up your chicken. I’m not ashamed.

Maybe I should be ashamed of how much I ate. My appetite is nothing short of voracious lately, and I thought I’d made too much pasta, but I ate all mine after serving myself more than Angie, then I finished off the bits Liam didn’t eat…then I had two brownies. <Sheepish shrug.> I was hungry. The wines: the rest of a Montevina Zin, then a red blend from Kenwood, which is what sits beside me now.

Given Liam’s minimal napping today, I’m hoping for a full night of sleep. I hope. I Hope. I HOPE. My knee is cold. Time for a bit of Ellis, then off to bed.

So goodnight, hope. May you turn to reality, then a pleasant memory in the morning.