I had lunch with one of my newer friends, Melissa today, and her absolutely adorable little munchkin, Aviaya. I promised myself after this bought with the cancer, all the chemotherapy and pain I went through, etc., that I would strive to really put a new meaning to the word, "Time". I promised myself to totally commit to prioritizing my time. Time is of the essence, and being that we could all stand having a bit MORE of it, I have to make the absolute best of all the time given to me 24-7. So I wake up, fix breakfast with my family, lounge around in pjs and sip coffee, and then when we are ready, we start a LONG and well planned day. We attend playgroups, visit friends, shop, run errands, attend doctor's appointments, music classes, visits to parks, birthday parties, etc. Then we return for dinner, baths, story time, rocking to sleep, and snuggling in bed. Once both babies are sound to sleep and snug as bugs in rugs, I begin my work day. Of course, by then, it's the work "night", and is standardly after 8:30pm. Sometimes I am so exhausted that I have to drink a cup of coffee or take a nap for a quick refresher, but then I work until about 2 a.m. I am full of energy, exhilerated, happy with my life, and finally HEALTHY! My blood cell counts are slowly returning to normal, my blast cell counts are down to 2.5 (I think that means 2,500). I still have bone pain and general fatigue late at night, but other than this my daily lifestyle is slowly returning back to Supermom Status. So I had lunch with Melissa and Avi today. Cole acted like a mischievous little elf the entire time. He would take HUGE bites of food at a time, and I would not notice it at first because I was engrossed in conversation with Melissa about our husbands, babies, friends, and the rudeness of other mothers not showing up for playgroup, or being late, etc., but then I would peer over at him to find that he had been transformed into a baby squirrel, whose tiny mouth was jammed to the limit with unchewed chicken fingers and mandarin oranges. I would ask him to kindly chew the food and swallow it, and he would mumble, "Otay muhmah" in between chewed oranges/chicken, but then would spit it out into his hands, rub it together between his chubby toddler fingers, and throw it under the table. (I made sure I tipped our server well). But you know, I have learned to enjoy this, enjoy babyhood as a part of life. I did not, however, enjoy it after I burped the baby when he spit his milk up right in my food. I tried to ignore the fact, until Cole proclaimed, "Eww baby spit up Muhma" at the top of his lungs. Chicken fahitas would not taste as good mixed with baby vomit, so I pushed the food aside. All in all, I am feeling better, and enjoying life, baby vomit and all.
