Thank the goddess for Spotify and that things like nausea relief frequency are readily available on Spotify. And that I've never gotten around to cancelling my Spotify Premium over the years. This morning I was sat on a stool in my kitchen and just couldn't move. Because I just...didn't feel good.
L: "Are you feeling okay?"
Me: "No, not yet."
I made it out the door in time to be 10 minutes late after vomiting up everything I had for breakfast and dinner the night before. Why is this how humans reproduce, again? This is a stupid system. My CI is underatnding, thank goodness. I've only had to excuse myself from 5 minutes of one session today for the morning sickness. The bathroom I chose had BM in the toilet just chilling when I got there. Today's...just Not It, in a lot of ways. I pulled the 8 of Swords and that's been on the nose. I risked having goldfish and jello for lunch. L let me borrow her water bottle because I left mine at home. And I'm having the little bit of black coffee I am allowed to have. We'll see how all that goes.
L's started making some friends at her new school - which is good! A little boy, evidently, who is either in 2nd or 3rd grade (we're not sure) but is in the same math level as herself. I did the whole send the phone number with L so she can pass it to whomever she wants to really so we can schedule a playdate. Well, yet again, the person in charge of scheduling a playdate on the friend's end is the dad. And a divorced dad at that. And I feel anxious because I feel in some way S is going to take issue with this and start some nonsense because L just happened to hit it off with this one particular kid in this one particular situation.
He's still taking issue with the situation in which I was fielding scheduling playdates with the dad of someone in L's former class who also happens to live in our neighborhood and frequents neighborhood playgrounds. As in: I feel like I've been forced to ghost this perfectly awesome family who L asks about every once in awhile. I can't really tell her, "Oh. Your dad doesn't understand that other families sometimes (or, in my personal experience, often) put the dads in charge of arranging playdates and thinks I am flirting with them! I am not, but he isn't able to comprehend that, so now I can't communicate with her parents and he refuses to. Sorry, honey! Better luck with your generation."
And Anchorage is a small town. We're probably going to run into them again and, as a matter of fact, I already have run into the youngest sibling of the family at my fieldwork placement in passing - they just don't really know who I am which is fortunate - but my point remains. Same neighborhood. Small town. Why you gotta be like that?
Someone else, probably: but surely you have options, Clara! You could stand up for yourself and do This Thing if you wanted to! You know what? Good point- and I probably could, but past experience suggests that that would just make my home life much less pleasant and while it's improved quite a lot I just don't think I can take the hit right now.
All I was supposed to do is hang in there until I graduate and get my feet on the ground and can think for a minute and feel secure, and I suppose I am doing that, but I am now doing that while feeling extra-crummy with, if I don't miscarry, yet another child for whom to be responsible. O, Fortuna. I guess.
I did have a small epiphany at (field)work, though; I like kids. I'm not mad at the prospect of having another kid per se, it's the absence of choice and the overall situation I take issue with. Overall situation being factors like quality of home life, my brain not being choice (and me realizing the extent to which it isn't, now), and the world at large, etc. But I like (most) kids*.
Okay. Young Sheldon kid, then my kid, then a chill kid, then the weekend. We can do this! ...even if we shouldn't.
*And most (but not all) kids like me too; I am aware that second children tend to bring the curveballs relative to first children, so I'm under no illusions there, I suppose.
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