Some weeks you're just gutting it out. We've had about two of those back to
back, though, so I'm crying "Uncle" this chilly Monday on which Finley and I
still sound like residents of a tuberculosis ward after more than a week of
fighting a vicious cold. To add insult to injury, babies and pregnant ladies are
the two unfortunate categories of people who can't rely on cold medicine to make
things bearable. I never realized what a crutch Dayquil had become during cold
and flu season! Honey and lemon juice and heavy-duty humidifiers just don't cut
it. And poor Finley can't even use the neti pot (although last night she was so
miserable, I briefly considered it.)
Plus, Seth is currently dragging himself back from a trip to Minneapolis for
what the radio told me was the third-coldest football game in NFL history. He
and Jayne and Tony were on hand for the
agonizing loss.
We (literally) can't win at the moment.
We did get a bit of good news last week at a follow-up doctor's appointment.
The week prior, an ultrasound had shown what looked like some excess fluid, causing a maybe-worrisome cervical
shortening. The doctor wasn't panicked, but definitely ordered me to take a week
off of any (and I mean any) kind of exercise to see if it resolved on its own, and visions
of the dreaded bedrest danced in my head. I think Seth was even more worried
about the prospect of a sedentary Amy than I was, and it ended up being just a long week
for us both. We cancelled new year's plans to go to the Eastern Shore because I
refused to sit in a hotel room while Seth golfed and kayaked and played outside
without me, and I tried not to pout when he got in a good workout (largely
because I'm really proud of his progress on what he refuses to call a new year's
resolution to eat better and workout every day.)
All told, we were delighted when the follow-up indicated a clean bill of
health for me and the baby, and I got the no-exercise-restrictions blessing.
Plus, we think baby Nieman is looking pretty cute.
It was a bright spot. The rest of the week involved Seth scrambling to keep the household
running while I stayed up at night with a coughing baby, googling natural cold
remedies and generally being miserable. I am a terrible sick person. Being
pregnant at the same time makes me
really not fun to be around.
I did start
ILE, which significantly lengthened my commute but which is going
to be alright. My small group is composed of varied and interesting people, the
workload seems to be manageable, and the hours are not bad at all. I'm still
getting into a routine and wading through an insanely boring first couple weeks of
reading, but I think the next few months are going to be a nice break from
the Pentagon.
Plus, Finley helps me study on my Army-issued nook. I'm just getting the hang
of it. She already has.
The little beast and I had a low-key sick weekend at home with Seth gone. By Sunday, we were
driving each other nuts, so I dragged Finley out for a lunch and shopping date
(this is her destroying her room, and then perusing the racks/ practicing her yoga at the lucy sale),
and to Michelle's house for a change of scene. She left with some hilarious
and awful hand-me-downs from Grace, including
this shopping cart and the world's
ugliest princess chair recliner. Which she obviously adores. I am beyond grateful for my
best friend of almost 20 (!!) years, whose house I can show up at in sweats with
a cold and a sick baby who hasn't napped in days. And still manage to have a
good time.
We also feel ridiculously lucky that even when she's under the weather and
tired, Finley is unfailingly charming and happy. The photos of the week are proof
positive: this is her cracking up with her Dad at bathtime,
looking like the godfather in her highchair,
and getting loopy over Sunday morning cartoons (her only TV time and a real
hit.)
And THIS is the face she makes when I tell her "no." Usually involving
throwing her food on the floor at dinner time. She laughs uproariously while she
does it. We know at this stage it's best not to react, and Seth gives me dirty
looks when I have to race out of the room so she can't see me cracking up. His
poker face is much better than mine.
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