9 Weeks.

Sorry for the non-creative title. I can think of nothing better. Nor do I have the energy to care. But nevertheless, we are 9 weeks. If you're keeping track, that means we are in the first day of the third month. Hallelujah. That means I am one month closer to not being sick 24/7.

We had doctors appointment number two today. It proved to be pretty uneventful. But, things looked good and are progressing normally so for that I am thankful. I lost two pounds! Which actually means I gained three, because in the middle of last week I was down five from my normal weight. Nice. Never have I been more excited to put weight on.

As far as symptoms, they haven't changed in a week. Nobody worry, I'm still sick all day and night. My body now rejects crackers. The one thing I had going in my life. I've turned to tostitos, they seem to be working so far. My new bedtime is 8pm, every night. Except tonight, but I did get a two hour nap in today - I guess my 10 hours last night just wasn't enough. For literally not doing anything all day, I don't know how I am so tired. I often tell Kyle this kid is sucking the life out of me. For instance today I had to make a trip to Kohls. Normally something I would look forward to. That was so not the case. I literally watched the clock dreading the time I told myself I would leave. Just brushing my teeth is a chore so getting off the couch, getting out of my pj's, putting on semi real clothes, washing my face, and putting on shoes was waaay too much for me to wrap my head around. But finally 11am came. I made it out the door at 11:15, only 15 minutes late. Not too bad. Once I got there all I wanted to do was leave. How awful is that? I'm in a store... shopping, and could not wait to leave. The whole time I was there I tried to figure out if I was going to puke or pee my pants. Thank God I did neither. And I got out of there, stat. I made it home and returned to the couch, my favorite place.

And now on to the real point of this blog. This kids dad. Oh my goodness, this guy needs a medal. I am in awe of him. I knew he was pretty great when I married him, obviously. But I had no idea. These past three weeks have been hell on him. His wife doesn't clean for him, doesn't cook for him, and doesn't really get off the couch. He works all day then comes home and takes care of me. He folds clothes, and does dishes, and picks up, and cooks his own dinner. He knows his beer makes me sick, so he takes it out to the trashcan as soon as he's done drinking it. I try to tell him thank you, but it seems pretty pathetic. I promise someday I'll make it up to him. Maybe I'll even cook him dinner again. For some dumb reason yesterday I got the notion to tell him that the next time he put the toilet paper on the roll that he should put it top side up. Just kinda throwing it out there, not really caring whether he did it or not. Well later that night, of course, I was throwing up and turned to get some toilet paper to wipe my mouth... and he had switched it. Of course he did, he's perfect. I smiled to myself, then continued to puke my guts up. I don't really even know how to tell him thanks, maybe I'll buy him something. Or make him something. Or get him a trophy. Whatever it is, he deserves something huge! He is a saint. I suppose this is where the "for better or worse" comes into play.

In other news, this weekend I'm throwing a baby shower for my sister!! Granted I was a little more excited before the sickness kicked in... but I'm still completely excited! I'm just buying the stuff I originally planned to cook... nbd. I hope she gets lots of good stuff for baby Ali. And it's another weekend I get to see Zoey - which means it's bound to be good.