It's not worth counting days anymore. I'm just in it for survival. The kids did not make it to school today. They got their vitamin D from dairy instead of the sun. Emily is becoming a champ at swallowing her vitamin B2 pills, in hopes they will help prevent her from getting so many migraines, but I have my doubts. I highly doubt that we are deficient in Riboflaven considering our diet. But we are grasping at straws, considering the September we've had. And it's not over, nor showing signs of slowing.
The airshow is practicing over my house lately. We live near the small city airport where small airplanes usually fly. But once a year, loud jets soar and tumble in and out of impressive formation, leaving lines and shapes and one hell of a racket in the sky. At nap time. Due to the toilet fiasco one day and air show practice plus minimum day pickup from school the next, I had two blown nap times in a row. EPIC F***ING FAIL. Today since no one made it to school save my Mom who teaches, I managed a great nap with the aid of some earplugs, and the fact that moving hasn't been a great priority of mine since maxing out on triptans by 6:50AM. Actually, moving has been pretty taboo since about 6 last night, when I realized the magnitude of trouble I was in.
Suck it up or get back on the med I just quit. Wait and see how well things go when the botox kicks in in t-minus-ohmygod-11 more days. When I can't stare hard at hope, it stares at me with small but stirring excitement. I can't put it back in the closet, it won't fit anymore. It's not so small and dry as it used to be. Jerk. Hope doesn't tell me anything about the future, about when or how. It doesn't make it easier to buy food and calculate risk. But it does sit there brightly, and make me give a damn. It makes me believe. I hope for better.
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