And I have to say: I’ve never been more eager to get back to a normal routine. The past two weeks have been…dramatic.
Before I get into the whole saga, check it out: my first magazine contribution is hot off the press, and it comes complete with my first published name misspelling!
I also got my first experience with the cutthroat editing process. The pieces I wrote were super short to begin with—two 150-word blurbs (right on the assigned word count, thankyouverymuch)—but they somehow got trimmed down even more.
Of course, I noticed every little change, and swore they RUINED EVERYTHING.
Still, somehow, I got a raving review from the editor and an invitation to write more in the future. Foot in door, baby!
Anyway, back to that story. The last time we talked, I was telling you about how sick Mason was. (And I thought things were rough then!) Of course, the next day—Christmas Eve—it was my turn.
Oh. Man. Did I get hit hard. I was completely miserable through all three Christmases—the one at home and both grandparents’. I’m not sure if I had an actual sinus infection, but Google tells me it had all the earmarks. Major congestion, major nose running, major misery, and oh.my.gosh the headaches. I felt like I was hungover for a week straight. (It didn’t help that Josh forgot how to sleep while we traveled, and was waking up approximately four billion times a night.)
On the Saturday after Christmas (when we were, conveniently, out of town), my headache escalated to a raging migraine. It left me totally debilitated, and when I just could NOT shake it, I ended up in the ER. After two hours in the waiting room (AGONY), I got a cocktail of drugs that left me feeling simultaneously jump-out-of-my-skin anxious and drooling-on-myself KO’d. What a nightmare!
On top of that, after all the stress and drugs, and a long day in the hospital (away from Josh or a pump), my milk supply plummeted. We were lucky that my sister-in-law is also breastfeeding and was able to donate some milk to tide Josh over, but now, over a week later, I’m still working on getting my supply back up. I’m chained to the pump and gobbling up lactation herbs like a crazy woman. Oh the joys.
When I wasn’t dying, we did make some nice holiday memories. Christmas morning, Mason woke up to a big holiday train in the living room (a hand-me-down from my grandma)—it was a huge hit, for something that had been sitting in the basement for a year. (And I bet it’ll be just as exciting when we bring it out again next year!)
Joshie got a Sophie giraffe…because all I’ve ever heard about Sophies is that all babies MUST. HAVE. ONE.
We took advantage of my mom’s babysitting services to hit up the aquarium in the Mall of America in Minnesota.
I also got to check out a new outlet mall near my parents’ house, which was awesome until I realized it was an OUTDOOR outlet mall. Yeah. I braved single digit temps to score a Reebok tank and a few things from Old Navy.
We even made it to a masquerade party on NYE:
That’s me with the missing masquerade mask. What a party pooper.
Honestly, the rest of the holidays is a blur. Mostly, I remember lots of tasty food, two really really REALLY helpful grandmas, and a couple cute little boys.
It’s good to be home.
What’s your holiday story?