I suppose I should reflect on the lighter moment of my OB appointment last Friday.  I was so affected by the experience that I could only write about the traumatic part.  But my doctor said “Oh hey – you only gained 2 pounds since your last visit, and with the holidays in there, nicely done!”  To which I responded wryly “Yeah, well vomiting throughout most of the holiday season put a damper on eating much.”

I also had to take a depression screening survey at the beginning of the appointment.  I knew what the survey was looking for, and knew that if I gave truthful responses, it would likely set off some type of warning flag for them.  Questions like “Do you cry often?”  “Do you feel anxious?”  Well, yes, but with good reason.  So I debated lying on the survey, but finally decided to be truthful.  Sure enough, I “failed” the test, or earned too many points, or whatever.  I was like “Not to worry – I’m in therapy.”  At which point everyone settled down.

Quentin was a nightmare on Sunday at bedtime.  I don’t even know what started it, but it resulted in a full-out tantrum and him banging on his bedroom door to the point where I was concerned about damage to the door.  I finally told him that if he did not stop, I was going to take EVERY SINGLE STUFFED ANIMAL out of his room.  Clearly he didn’t believe me, because a few minutes later – that was exactly what I was doing – removing every one of his stuffed animals to the master bedroom.  That got his attention and he demanded them back.  I sat with him until he finally composed himself, and then told him that he could not have his animals back that night, but if he was well-behaved, he could have them back the next day.  He finally climbed into his bed and snuggled with his blanket.

I woke up from my own nightmare that night – a nightmare where, once again, I was told that our baby had no heartbeat.  It was so excruciatingly vivid that I woke up and for a moment did not realize that it was only a dream.  I am in an odd place right now, where nausea has subsided, but too early to feel movements from the baby so it is that “hardly seems real” place.

I spent yesterday with both kids, Theo having no school and day care being closed for MLK day.  Quentin was incredibly remorseful about the previous night, and sheepishly hauled all of his stuffed animals back into his room.  He also willingly helped me with laundry to make amends.  I had to debate frigid temperatures versus being stuck in the house all day, and we bundled up and trudged out to Trader Joe’s for a quick errand.  I had started a loaf of bread on Sunday, so then finished it up on Monday.  Bread-making may become my new weekend ritual.  And the loaf turned out gorgeously.

It is getting to be that time of year when I am itching to receive all of our tax forms.  I know that it could be through the end of January before we receive everything, but I always sit down and prepare our taxes immediately at the beginning of February to get it over with.  So I become antsy for everything to arrive…  We have yet in our married lives to have two tax years that were exactly the same in terms of what we needed to include on our return so every year is a bit of a roller coaster, even though I try to prepare as much as possible.