I forced myself outside for a walk today. The sun was shining; the sidewalks were slippery- or under 3 feet of snow; the wind was biting. But I moved.
John Paul is feeling somewhat better, and is moving around. So I'm not just lying in bed with him. Being forced to stay in bed for days is quite curative for the desire to... lay in bed all day! Of course now he's dragging his foot about everywhere and I'm waiting for him to contract some deadly infection in it.
My amazing husband made 7 dozen tamales for Christmas. I told him he doesn't have to get me anything else! That's about 12 meals I don't have to cook.
I gave myself permission to stop trying to meet all the 'recommended intakes' for pregnant women, and I'm just eating whatever I want. Which amounts to some kamut cereal with almond milk every couple of hours. And skipping all my vitamins for now, which are definitely making me feel terrible. Trying not to feel guilty!
I didn't make another coffe cake for tomorrow's breakfast.
We never made cookies.
We lost our favorite Christmas picture book.
There's no dessert for dinner tomorrow.
But there will be presents under the tree and I think it will be a good-enough Christmas.
I hope all my readers have a good-enough Christmas and I look forward to the day things get back to (more or less) normal around here so you'll once again find something interesting going on at BreadwithHoney!
"We trust in plumed procession
For such the angels go -
Rank after Rank, with even feet -
And uniforms of Snow."