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: Thoughts on food.
I'm sure my little ones will be up from their nap any minute, and I have no idea what to give them as a snack. I still have this nagging feeling that I am shortchanging Mimi. It must be hard to be the big sister.
She is so acutely aware of the times when she can't have what Frank has. She can't sleep in my bed, but Frank does. She can't have the last of the lentil soup, but Frank can. She should be ashamed of wearing diapers to bed (last week brought on a flurry of accidents like none I have ever seen, and for the first time since October, I put diapers on her because I was too tired to wake her up twice a night to pee), but Frank is supposed to wear diapers. If there's one last hocolate cookie in the tin, Frank gets it because the whole purpose of chocolate cookies on our 2-hour-commute home from school is to keep him from sleeping before we get home.
I so wish Frank would just poop. It's so stressful for me to be waiting for it. I broke down and bought some mineral oil today at the pharmacy because I am not functioning. I've now given him 5 suppositories since Friday. He's uncomfortable and cranky and even more needy than normal, if that's possible.
He did poop a little on his own yesterday, which was encouraging. Like birdpoop in spring, except instead of blackberry seeds, it was tomato seeds. That kid can put back raw, unsalted tomatoes like nothing I have ever seen before. And yet no effect.
I am really a high-strung, crazy person when they are not well. My step-grandmother just told me that she took some mineral oil last year and shit approximately 2 coke cans. Sigh.
Well, Frank is crying. I feel like crying, too. All of this olive-oil and tomato sauce laden food is quite delicious, but I am exhausted of scrubbing it out of all of our clothes when Frank's coalmine drama and the Twilight series books are taking up all of my energy.
I'm sure my little ones will be up from their nap any minute, and I have no idea what to give them as a snack. I still have this nagging feeling that I am shortchanging Mimi. It must be hard to be the big sister.
She is so acutely aware of the times when she can't have what Frank has. She can't sleep in my bed, but Frank does. She can't have the last of the lentil soup, but Frank can. She should be ashamed of wearing diapers to bed (last week brought on a flurry of accidents like none I have ever seen, and for the first time since October, I put diapers on her because I was too tired to wake her up twice a night to pee), but Frank is supposed to wear diapers. If there's one last hocolate cookie in the tin, Frank gets it because the whole purpose of chocolate cookies on our 2-hour-commute home from school is to keep him from sleeping before we get home.
I so wish Frank would just poop. It's so stressful for me to be waiting for it. I broke down and bought some mineral oil today at the pharmacy because I am not functioning. I've now given him 5 suppositories since Friday. He's uncomfortable and cranky and even more needy than normal, if that's possible.
He did poop a little on his own yesterday, which was encouraging. Like birdpoop in spring, except instead of blackberry seeds, it was tomato seeds. That kid can put back raw, unsalted tomatoes like nothing I have ever seen before. And yet no effect.
I am really a high-strung, crazy person when they are not well. My step-grandmother just told me that she took some mineral oil last year and shit approximately 2 coke cans. Sigh.
Well, Frank is crying. I feel like crying, too. All of this olive-oil and tomato sauce laden food is quite delicious, but I am exhausted of scrubbing it out of all of our clothes when Frank's coalmine drama and the Twilight series books are taking up all of my energy.