All Jacked Up

It isn't even 7:00 AM. I have been up for 3 hours, maybe longer if you count the four hours (after I attempted to go to bed at midnight) that I spent tossing and turning and pleading with God to allow me a little shut-eye. My munchkin has pneumonia and bronchitis, and every time she coughed, I would jerk awake, ready to whisk her to the nearest emergency room. We spent the majority of yesterday morning at Urgent Care and CVS, attempting to find out (a) what was wrong with her, and (b) what antibiotic she could take that did not contain penicillin (which she is allergic to). Yuck. The meds that she was given are penicillin-free, but leave an aftertaste that is reminiscent of steel pipe. Delicious. If there has ever been a time that I needed/wanted to take some sick time, it's now. However, my assistant is on a much deserved vacation, and I am working a thirteen hour day today. My parents are each driving 90 minutes from my hometown to take care of Kylie in shifts while I am mercilessly folding denim and selling t-shirts. I am indescribably grateful.

Of course, it is good that I am able to reserve my sick days for myself to burn at the end of August. As it turns out, this painful ovarian cyst that I have been dealing with for the past three years is not a cyst at all. Instead, I have a lovely case of endometriosis, which is painful and aggravating, not to mention wardrobe inhibiting. Wearing anything other than stretchy jeans or dresses proves to be hell on my abdominal area. I haven't been able to go running or otherwise workout in a couple of months, so those stretchy jeans and dresses are much appreciated. I am having surgery in four weeks, which means that I get a week out of work to recover. Not quite the vacation I had planned for myself, but I will take whatever I can get. Kylie has promised to take great care of me, including making dinner, as long as it is microwaveable. The new boyfriend volunteered to take me to my pre-op visits. I think that's a good sign; he intends to be around a month from now.

Speaking of the new boyfriend, I don't think it's possible for me to like him more than I do at this exact moment. In between all of my running around with Kylie yesterday, we managed to pencil in date number three, which only consisted of hanging out at his house for an hour before I raced to work. I will take what I can get; we are planning to have dinner on Monday night with our kids. I am beyond excited. Between us, we have three daughters, which means he is sorely outnumbered. The thing that I like the most about him is that he is a great dad, quite the opposite of what I am used to from my ex. On top of that, he is incredibly smart without being boastful about it. He has a degree in biochemistry and a doctorate in pharmacy, but he doesn't brag about it. He reads important books like The Kite Runner and stuff by Ayn Rand. He makes me laugh with all the stories that he tells me about his customers at the Walmart pharmacy. Oh, and he calls me "dear" and it doesn't annoy me. My mom is going to love him, which is one of the first things I take note of when I go out with someone. I learned my lesson after I married someone that she warned me against.

Speaking of my mother, I have to go clean my kitchen before she gets here. I made a list of home repairs for my dad to work on when he arrives this afternoon. While my mom is equally capable of completing them herself should she choose, my dad needs something to do. I left a stack of books for my mom to dig into while she is here, as I don't think she has enough time to read and relax. Sounds kinda familiar, right?