I had the best of intentions, I really did. I got up almost on time and was really, really, really going to go to the gym this morning. Because I actually feel better when I go to the gym.
So I got up almost on time. Almost being half an hour later than intended but early enough to make sure the kids got up on time. Then I brushed my teeth. By this time it was 15 minutes past when the kids should have gotten up. I swear it didn’t take me 15 minutes to brush my teeth. I’m pretty sure I didn’t poop or anything that would have consumed more than the 2 or so minutes it takes to brush my teeth. Maybe I blacked out. Not sure. Anyway, then urged the kids to get up. I went downstairs. I was going to leave them to their own devices for breakfast, meaning they would have to eat cereal, but decided to be nice and make egg sandwiches. Then my daughter came downstairs. I told her to make her lunch, which she did. Then she ate her egg sandwich. My son came downstairs, sat at the table and looked at his sandwich. Why wasn’t he eating? Because the sandwich was too hot. So I tell him to go get his lunch bag and make his lunch while his sandwich cools down. He gets his lunch bag, starts emptying it out and starts gagging and saying it smells bad. It’s been sitting on a hook all weekend, so it’s possible something has died in there. I check it out, and find — granola bars. Still in the package. Pretty much the way they would be in the cupboard. No smell at all. He manages to stop gagging and put a few things in his lunch. Then he eats part of his egg sandwich. Declares himself full. By this time, his sister has left for school. He then goes to the fridge to get an apple for his lunch and commences gagging again, telling me something smells bad. Nothing smells bad. There is a questionable looking lime in there, but it doesn’t smell bad. I take it out of the fridge, get an apple and wash it for him. Meanwhile he has disappeared. I hear the unmistakable sound of vomiting just as I ask him in a very annoyed voice what he’s doing now. He has apparently attempted to get to the bathroom, but not made it, so egg sandwich is now being cupped in his hands, as much as is possible, the rest is on the floor. I’m sure the mother of the year award is coming. There must be a category for mother who is annoyed with her kid as he pukes up his breakfast. So I help him clean himself up (he has some puke in his hair even — long haired boy problems), and clean up the floor and ask him whether he threw up because he was grossed out by something or because he feels sick. He, of course, doesn’t know. Because he is Mr. Indecisive and can almost never answer a question. Finally I get it out of him that he was feeling sick before he came downstairs. So I decide he should stay home from school. Get him settled in his bed and give him a gravol.
At this point, I have left my half eaten breakfast on the dining table to find 3 of my 4 cats standing around attempting to eat my breakfast. I finish it anyway.
Then I decide screw going to the gym, because I’m now exhausted from the morning’s drama. I will go at lunch. Or in the afternoon. I read a bit of The Redhead Revealed instead, and then decide that I really need to sleep for about 25 minutes before going to work. So I set a timer for 25 minutes. Then for another 10. Then for another 5. Then I finally get up and have a shower — very quickly, because it is now 9:17 am and I have a meeting at 10. I tell my son, who has now fallen asleep that I’m going to work. (He’s 11 and a half, so he can stay home alone, and I can be home in less than 10 minutes if he calls, and actually he wasn’t alone since my boyfriend was home.)
I decide that I am fooling myself if I think I’m going to the gym at all today, so I don’t bother with even bringing my gym clothes. Then I figure since I’m not going to the gym, I’ll also not be bothered to bring the healthy food I made for myself last night for lunch. Cause, screw it all right? Plus I have convinced myself that I have a touch of whatever is ailing my son because I feel slightly queasy and have had multiple fairly urgent visits to the toilet since I got up. So, I won’t want to eat and can’t be bothered to bring food.
So I leave for work, and decide along the way that I really need an ice capp from Tim Horton’s cause it will make my stomach feel better and wake me up. To hell with all thoughts of anything healthy passing through my lips today. Or of being on time for my 10am meeting.
The ice capp actually did make me feel better. No, really. But I realized on the way to work that I forgot to take the supplements I usually take in the morning, which means wicked heartburn to come later in the day.
I am 15 minutes late for my 10 am meeting. Not a big deal really, in this case.
Of course, around noon, I decide I am hungry. Or at least that I should eat. I am not motivated enough to leave the building, so I see what’s on offer at the cafeteria. Lasagna. Not even close to the gluten/dairy/sugar free diet I’m supposed to be attempting. So I have it. It is not great. Overcooked noodles. I eat it all anyway.
Somewhere around 2:35, I realize that I haven’t had anyone at the school tell my daughter not to wait for her brother after school like she usually does. School ends at 2:30. I picture my daughter standing around, waiting for her brother for half an hour, or worse, running around the school grounds looking for him. Not that this would happen. I’m pretty sure she would go to the office and ask for him. But just the same I call the school and ask if they can track her down and let her know. They say they will. I am now very stressed, because I’m due for my second mother of the year award of the day, so I decide that sugar is just the thing required to fix this stress. That, and there wasn’t enough sugar in the lasagna to fully and completely sink my gluten/dairy/sugar-free diet. So I head to the vending machine, where I get a bag of jelly beans AND a Caramilk bar.
I eat all of the jelly beans first. Then I try to open the Caramilk bar. This new packaging is designed to keep you out of chocolate. It is then that I realize it is not in fact a Caramilk bar, but an Aero bar. I am pissed. But I eat the Aero bar anyway.
I make vague attempts to get some work down. At one point, my colleague comes over to talk about something. It is then that I notice a red jelly bean on the floor of my cube. Red ones are my favourite. I can’t very well pick it up off the floor and eat it in front of him. So I wait for him to leave, then I pick it up and eat it. I figure it has a hard outer coating, so how much stuff could really stick to it anyway? Plus, I probably already have whatever stomach thing my son has, so how much further harm could it do?
I do something work-ish related until 5:17 when my boyfriend BBMs me that he wants chicken wings for dinner. He wants this because yesterday I started marinating wings because his friend was over to watch the Superbowl and we ended up not eating the wings due to consuming mass quantities of homemade poutine. The wings do have to be cooked or tossed. So I decide to leave work to come home and deal with the wings. I bread the wings (more gluten), make chicken nuggets for the kids (frozen ones, mother of the year count for the day = 3) and then my boyfriend cooks the wings (in the deep fryer), makes sauce for the wings, and makes noodles from a package (gluten and dairy) to go with the wings. The wings turn out very, very good.
The kids eat their nuggets. My son has not puked again but claims to still feel sick. I convince him to have a shower by telling him he had puke in his hair. He’s still not convinced, but he’s showering anyway. When he’s done his shower I will make him toast and apple juice. I will get he and his sister to make their lunches for tomorrow so that I don’t have to endure the morning hell of nagging them to death to hurry up. Then I will convince them to go to bed early so that I can sit on the couch and watch mindless TV shows.
I still feel queasy. Probably from all the gluten, dairy and sugar. There’s a good chance that I’m done eating for the day, but it’s not 100%. I might want to torture myself a little more. I also feel vaguely like I’m getting a cold. If I had a bottle of wine in the house, I would drink it.