When Noah found out I was sick again--he calls it having "rocks in my belly"--he came very close to me and looked in my eyes. He kissed my cheek lightly and rubbed my back. He smoothed my hair and held my hand, carefully lacing each of his tiny fingers through mine. He said, "Don't worry, Mommy. You will be okay. We will all take care of you and make you better."
“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.”― Gilda Radner
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Saturday, March 24, 2012
Rocks in My Belly
My archenemy, Kidney Stone, is in town. Evil is his middle name. And he attacked me so fiercely when I thought I was safe that I am stuck in bed this weekend trying to recover. But I'll win. Just you watch. I've defeated him before and I'll do it again.
Labels:
Being a Grownup,
Kids
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