I'm not ashamed to admit that I adore living fastidious. I'm actually down in a rut on the days I realize that life has slowed down to a calm suburban crawl. I love going out with friends, creating an adventure, or just hanging out drinking coffee, tea, beer, etc. I love getting silly and laughing laughing laughing.
Last Friday Mari and I went to a bbq party at a friend's house and brought the kids. The women were drinking pinot grigio with green tea ginger ale and a frozen strawberry as an ice cube. They were so tasty and I had way too many. Something artificial in the ginger ale made my stomach ache. I woke up the next day with an awful hangover and wanted to lay in bed until 4 in the afternoon.
Mid day I started praying to the porcelin godess, ran into the bathroom, Kaio followed. I could not manage to shut the door because we had a towel hanging on top. He saw me praying to the porselin god, "Mom, are you spiting soup in the potty? Can I try?"
My god, I was thinking that I must be setting an horid example and I was.
"Mommy's sick. Go away."
When I told my friend about it yesterday, she said, well I'm impressed that he is almost 5 years old and this is the first time he has seen you sick and hungover!
Way to look at the bright side.
My sister-and-law graciously watched Kaio yesterday since his school is on spring break. She sent me an email mid day asking if I was alright, "Kaio's worried that you are sick and spitting soup in the potty." Oh god now he's telling the world. He probably told his preschool teachers, grandma, school administrators, and who knows!
I talked to him about it this morning, "Mommy's fine, I'm not sick any more, don't worry."
I can relate to Peter Pan. I'm not ready to grow up. *sigh*.