Tonight, I am quite convinced that my toothache is not going to go away and is in fact an abscess--it hurts, the glands under my jawbone are swollen and tender on that side, and I feel crappy. Jacob wanted to go to the store, then he wanted to go to church--and I had to tell him Juju just didn't feel up to it. He was a good boy--played with his toys, watched TV, and came to me with various projects. He did NOT want a nap; I desperately wanted one. At one point last night he came into the office, which caused Scooby to bolt for his bed. Jacob announced he had heard a noise that scared him--this morning I figured out it was squirrels on the flat roof of the add-on that is a playroom and Jacob's bedroom. So he wanted to sleep in my bed. I shut down the computer and got everything ready for bed. We climbed in but it didn't last long and he decided he wanted to go back to his bed--this was maybe eleven, and he'd been so quiet I truly thought he was asleep. He may have been and Bigfoot on he roof wakened him. But then at midnight, he called for me--his pillows had fallen on the floor. I remembered when Jamie was two or three, still using a pacifier, and got me up one night because his "binkie" fell on the floor. The pediatrician, a good friend, said, "Judith, any kid that is old enough to say his binkie fell on the floor is old enough to get out of bed and get it." I felt the same way about Jacob last night, and I was very strict about going to sleep, which he did. When I put him down for a nap and gave him just a bit of a head start on me, he jabbered and jabbered, and I scolded and scolded--as I said, the string of my patience was short today. So I crawled in my bed, and pretty soon there he was crawling in with me. Have you ever slept with a washing machine in your bed? He squirmed, he turned, he tossed, he hugged me, then he kicked me, then he rubbed up against me--once again I was stern and told him he simply had to lie still, and he most definitely was not to sit up and look at Scooby--for some reason he gets Scooby quite excited and anxious. I kept telling myself I could sleep with a whirling dervish next to me, and I did sort of doze but then I noticed he was very still. I'd say we got a pretty good nap, though he woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Poor Jacob--he's so sweet and good, and I don't think he got the best of his Juju today.
While he was playing, I was reading the book Elizabeth gave me, Gluten-Free Girl. Except I kept popping up to check labels on food in my fridge and cupboard, even the bathroom. Apparently you have to have gluten-free Ibuprofen--I can't take that, so I take plain aspirin, which is okay. My toothpaste seems to be okay too. Mustard is a bit suspect because of caramel coloring but supposedly if it's made in this country it's gluten free. Soy sauce is out--though I found some gluten free online, and I'll order it just to have with sushi and sashimi. You apparently have to really read labels closely--and even then you can't always tell. Bless the people who label foods "gluten free."
One comment in the book struck me: author Shauna James Ahern goes to a meeting of the Inernational Association for Culinary Professionals and meets some of the "more alive, interesting people in one place than I had ever seen before . . . food people equals good people." I've always felt that way about book people. I think because both of us, food people and book people, are following our passion. And here I am with both those subjects as a passion--I feel blessed, in spite of the slight ache in my jaw.
Ho, hum! I'm going to bed early because I intend to call the dentist office the minute they open at 7:30 and be ready to go if they say "Come right in." Am I an optimist? I hope what they'll do is put me on antibiotics (which should help the blahs I've felt all day) and schedule a root canal for next week, after the Alter clan get-together in Frisco this weekend.
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