I am writing this Sunday. I was beyond exhausted Saturday.
Friday night Grace was up every 30 minutes to an hour. Screaming. Her little tiny fists balled up. Her mouth wide open. She seemed ravenously hungry. But she was having trouble nursing. My daughter was in pain. She still couldn't sit down. It was painful for all of us. Trying to take care of baby, and my daughter, whil functioning on little sleep. Finally she was able to nurse and fell asleep about 5 a.m.
I got two hours of sleep. My mother arrived about 7:00 to pick me up for breakfast. She seemed shocked by my pale face. We told her about our evening. She peered at her great granddaughter, sleeping like an angel. She looked at me in disbelief.
We had our breakfast.
The coffee helped to see into my nearly comatose state.
"How did I ever survive motherhood?" I asked my mother.
"I was just asking myself that", she replied. And you did it all by yourself".
I reminded her that she did help.
"But I was work8ng full-time at the hospital", she replied. I wish I could have done more".
It felt good to hear her say that.
We finished our breakfast and headed up to the church
She was m6 first student of the day. My head was pounding. My eyes hurt. I did not know how I would last through 7 hours of piano lessons.
I told her to start warm8ng up with scales while I went to turn on the lights. I took off my shoes and put down my bags. And shuffled to the back of the sanctuary. I was reaching for the light switch when suddenly I felt a sharp pain on the bottom of my right foot. I tried to ignore it, still reaching for the switch. But the pain intensified. I stopped and looked down, thinking I stepped on a tack. It was dark in the back of the church. I looked down at the floor. Shook my throbbing foot. Something fell off, onto the floor.
Something dark, small and moving!
I had stepped on a bee. And it stung me.
"Keep practicing", I called out to my mom. "I just stepped on a bee".
"A what?", she asked in between notes.
"A bee. It stung me".
She stopped playing and stared. "How did you manage that"? , she asked bewildered
I mumbled something and limped to the bathroom. I didn't see a stinger. I washed it off. Then I found the culprit on the floor near the electrical panel. I switched in the lights. I felt a pang of compassion for this little guy. He was dying. Because I stepped on him and he was forced to sting me.
But I also felt wide awake. It was like a shot of adrenaline.
I sailed through my lessons. All because of a bee!
Last weekend I had dinner with my son. We had Chinese food. It was the day before my daughter went into labor.
I was stunned when I read my fortune:
This is one fortune that has come true.
Love,
Zita
Friday night Grace was up every 30 minutes to an hour. Screaming. Her little tiny fists balled up. Her mouth wide open. She seemed ravenously hungry. But she was having trouble nursing. My daughter was in pain. She still couldn't sit down. It was painful for all of us. Trying to take care of baby, and my daughter, whil functioning on little sleep. Finally she was able to nurse and fell asleep about 5 a.m.
I got two hours of sleep. My mother arrived about 7:00 to pick me up for breakfast. She seemed shocked by my pale face. We told her about our evening. She peered at her great granddaughter, sleeping like an angel. She looked at me in disbelief.
We had our breakfast.
The coffee helped to see into my nearly comatose state.
"How did I ever survive motherhood?" I asked my mother.
"I was just asking myself that", she replied. And you did it all by yourself".
I reminded her that she did help.
"But I was work8ng full-time at the hospital", she replied. I wish I could have done more".
It felt good to hear her say that.
We finished our breakfast and headed up to the church
She was m6 first student of the day. My head was pounding. My eyes hurt. I did not know how I would last through 7 hours of piano lessons.
I told her to start warm8ng up with scales while I went to turn on the lights. I took off my shoes and put down my bags. And shuffled to the back of the sanctuary. I was reaching for the light switch when suddenly I felt a sharp pain on the bottom of my right foot. I tried to ignore it, still reaching for the switch. But the pain intensified. I stopped and looked down, thinking I stepped on a tack. It was dark in the back of the church. I looked down at the floor. Shook my throbbing foot. Something fell off, onto the floor.
Something dark, small and moving!
I had stepped on a bee. And it stung me.
"Keep practicing", I called out to my mom. "I just stepped on a bee".
"A what?", she asked in between notes.
"A bee. It stung me".
She stopped playing and stared. "How did you manage that"? , she asked bewildered
I mumbled something and limped to the bathroom. I didn't see a stinger. I washed it off. Then I found the culprit on the floor near the electrical panel. I switched in the lights. I felt a pang of compassion for this little guy. He was dying. Because I stepped on him and he was forced to sting me.
But I also felt wide awake. It was like a shot of adrenaline.
I sailed through my lessons. All because of a bee!
Last weekend I had dinner with my son. We had Chinese food. It was the day before my daughter went into labor.
I was stunned when I read my fortune:
This is one fortune that has come true.
Love,
Zita
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