Okay, I accept it. I have cooked the food, I even found a reasonable tapioca bread, thanks to the Gluten-Free Gourmet. I have smiled at my parents and laughed at their jokes, while sternly resisting the urge to wreak bloody havok when told how to manage the boys’ allergies. But I am not dealing – not really.
Last night, pressured and overtired, I arrived at my favorite café, only to find that it had closed five minutes before. A grumpy survey of the local Starbucks showed that they, too, were closing much too early. Article unwritten, the deadline glaring at me, I stomped my way home, where a miserable small person was explaining to his father that he really, really needed some nai-nais. I nursed the small person, stroked the frizzing red hair, and tried not to think about my article.
Eventually, I gave the little body, by then sodden with sleep, back to his father. And it all came rushing in and I couldn’t breathe. Gasping for air, I paced the floor of our living-area, feeling the weight of my family’s needs pressing on me, my partner’s needs, my sons’ – and finally, my own. Eventually my breath regained it’s rhythm, and I sat, staring blankly at the floor. I felt oh so fragile, so carefully balanced, and utterly without the resilience that I rely on.
How is this going to work? I’m pressed between what I must do and what I insist on doing. And all of it must be somehow compressed so that I can also have some space for myself. Today there is no balance. Tomorrow?
Tomorrow: still fragile, and avoiding it by snarling at the child, who helpfully exploded a toy filled with liquid and millions of small beads. Just missed the vein when trying to do factor, but the nurse was there and rescued the situation. Silly woman - I actually do know better than to use a needle when I'm hovering on the edge. Ignored a tired baby while stuffing things into a bag, then picked up the furious infant and cuddled him, while racing for the door.
Escaping the house and having a rampage through Target (diapers and paper goods, ahoy!) helped immensely. As did reintroducing dairy to my diet. The doc said go slowly, but before I knew it, I'd downed two chai lattes with skim milk, and finished off the day with a salmon and brie sandwich on rice bread, courtesy of O'Naturals. Am now fretting that the bread may have had eggs, which will obscure a true test of the babe's ability to tolerate the dairy in my milk. But, oh, to have brie again....and lo, it was good. Even therapeutic?
Friday night: the Mater provided a tomato-olive chicken with a lemon basmati rice. Yum. It was so good that I forgot to serve my side of ginger-garlic sauteed spinach. Luckily, it was good cold the next day.
Sabbath lunch: chili-lime corn salad, pomegranate chicken (oooh), plain rice, roasted asparagus (ho, hum).
The great gustatory discovery? Tapioca bread and the happy reprise of corn muffins with cherries.
dykewife, my apologies - I answered your question in the comments section of the previous post. Lazy of me, I know. And alas, no, I'm not in the market for a set of china...in fact, my partner is trying to persuade me to shed some of what we have, given our restrictions. He is sure that we don't need our dairy set of pots and dishes anymore, and should craig's list 'em, or at least box them up and stick them in the basement, as a memory of things past. More fool him, if he thinks he's touching my dairy set - those pots are the only good ones we have, and here they stay. If only for the sake of principle.