Ok, ok this is not funny.
I do not like being a fan of the Barbie Barf Club. I do not need a refresher course in this. I woke up at 1 am, not feeling too good, sort of pregnant, but knowing that is not possible — thought maybe I just needed a glass of milk.
I felt weak. A symptom that I can recall when fasting. But I had eaten a little–some old burrito I found laying around. That must have been it. Food Poisoning. Yea, so I barfed, and crawled back to my mattress on the floor, being careful not to sleep on my right side. Another visit at 6 am, and that was it. I’m ok, just tired with a headache, and an incredible amount of final moving work to do. I just can’t seem to get up and get going. And I have no desire to either.
Gene went and got Vladimir to work and pay him $100–you know my husband he likes to hand out money to the needy. We had Vladimir work in the yard one day too. And we gave him one of my Dad’s old leather coats, and a bicycle. I hear him in the garage, taking the shelves apart to move.
I am at the point of just throwing my clothes into laundry baskets to take to my mom’s. My new safe harbor for awhile until we get another house. There is a lot of stress in a move. Yesterday Gene got frustrated with the dog on our walk in Costa Mesa, and he just decided to go home–I kindly told him I needed the keys to get me, Seth, and Enzi back home. He showed up, at home about two hours later, having run home, 12 miles. When he was young he would go run when he got mad, so I figured, he would walk, and feel better. I never thought he would run.
Every move is so traumatic I remember each one. Barfing is a common memory. Brigham, aged 3, barfing in the cab of the rental truck, into the bowl of the salad spinner–our move from Alpine, UT to Sandy, one freezing winter day. I got sick the next day. The worst I have ever had. I had a four month old and two little kids, and a husband out of town that day.
Please no more active memberships in the barfing club for me. I called Rachel and sympathized with her–pregnant with number two, and confirmed, yea, two is a great number.
This is awful to endure.
