Heather R.'s Diary Entries Diary Navigation: Choose A Diary Entry -------------------- Latest Entry: 11/30/01 -------------------- 10/25/01 6/21/01 5/10/01 4/8/01 3/30/01 3/23/01 3/15/01 3/7/01 2/27/01 2/20/01 2/12/01 1/29/01 1/17/01 1/1/01 12/27/00 12/19/00 12/1/00 11/13/00 -------------------- Heather R.'s Introduction

Introduction

Diary entry: 1-26-01

I’m sick. Not the nice lady-like sniffles sick, not the little-pass-the-lemon-tea-I’m-under-the-weather-sick. I’ve been sick for nearing two weeks, and with no end in sight, I finally hunkered down and got myself to the doctor this morning. It wasn’t good news.

I’ve got an infection in both ears and in my sinuses. Ugh. It hurts to even think about breathing, let alone doing something as daring as trying. I’ve got to start a prescription medication this evening; one that is supposed to cause “upset stomach, vomiting, or extreme nausea.” And, get this; it was the only one safe to use while nursing! Who-hoo, they’re gonna kill me with this stuff!

John and I are going on a date tomorrow. Now I know what you’re thinking – that I shouldn’t go out, that I should be at home in bed, resting up. Unless I’m on my literal deathbed, that will not happen. We are going out alone, damnit, if it’s the last thing I do. Hordes of wild Yule elk would have to keep me from this date. And I am DEMANDING that we have a good time. As you can see, I have a take no prisoners kind of attitude about our lacking social dating rituals, and I am not about to let something as ubiquitous as a few infections located somewhere around my brain stop me from doing this.

While I’ve been hacking up my lungs and feeling like my head is as swollen as a ripe tomato, Chloe and Ivan have been doing some of their own things.

Chloe hates dance class.

She doesn’t actually hate dance class, per se, but she hates the fact that we are supposed to leave her there. The teacher feels that this should be a time for the kids to learn how to be in a class setting without their parents. To be honest, I’m not sure how comfortable I feel with this. The instructor has, so far, been fine with the fact that most of the parents and kids aren’t ready to take this leap. John, who takes the kids to these classes while I’m at work, had originally thought that he’d just sneak out with Ivan, and Chloe would hardly notice he was gone.

Of course, in hindsight, that sounds absolutely riotous. If anyone would believe that Chloe would actually be comfortable being alone in a class with a bunch of other 2-3 year olds and a barely post-pubescent dance instructor, well then I’ve got a bridge in Hawaii to sell you.

Chloe seems to actually like the dancing or movement part of the whole thing. She is absolutely riveted by her reflection in the mirror. She twirls and turns and looks back over her shoulder coyly, then runs and watches her feet slide along the floor. She’s a born ham, and Chloe’s glee in seeing herself perform makes me recall my own love for the stage. The campus theatre was my stomping grounds in high school, and I have to admit that I would be thrilled to see her find the same love for the performing arts.

That said - I’m not a stage mom. I think Chloe should be in control of what she wants to learn and what she feels eager to pursue. Besides, she’s only 2 ½ and she has a lifetime to figure out what makes her the happiest. At the very least, I hope it gives her self-confidence and a strong spirit.

Ivan, poor man, is still in the throes of teething. As if my duties weren’t difficult enough, Ivan’s been waking something like 4 times a night to nurse. Bloody hell! I’ve had to raise my coffee rations from 1 cup to at least 2, sometimes 3, before I’m human enough to trudge off to the salt mines in the morning.

Ivan is also enthralled with bathing. Give him some bubble bath and a few good toys, and he’s in hog heaven for at least 45 minutes, or until too wrinkly to recognize. I splurged on a few extra special tub toys for him – some nesting/pouring cups, a mirror, and a fishing set – and he’s happy to jump in the water every night.

1-29-01

Well, I wrote this entry over the weekend and forgot to submit it, but decided that I didn’t have a chance to scrap the whole thing and start over. John and I had our date, and despite my noisy hacking, had a wonderful time. We went and saw “Finding Forrester” (wonderful – a solid two thumbs up), and then walked through the mall talking and holding hands.

Sunday found us house hunting, as we desperately need bigger digs. John’s little bro, Steve, has moved in for a spell, and an 850-square foot, 2-bedroom apartment ain’t gonna cut it.

And we’ve found the perfect house. Smallish, but in a wonderful neighborhood, it’s a cute bungalow built in the 20’s. It’s got hardwood floors, a completely cute retro styled kitchen, and a huge basement area that Steve could have all to himself. Top all that off with a backyard and a park just down the street, and what do you have? Perfection.

But the best thing about the house, the thing that really pushes it over the edge for me, is that we’ll have a study. A study. Which means, I’ll have my own space to write. I’ll be the first to second Eloise’s note that your space legitimizes one’s wanting to be a writer. It lends a certain credence. And it lets you close the door.

We find out this week if we’re approved for our new pad. If so, we’ll be moving at the end of February – only four short weeks or so away. I can hardly wait.

Until next time,

heather