The image above pretty much says it all. After church today, where we had the best singer ever there. She was a 3 year old cutie that sang out loud and clear and showed more joy than many adults. She didn’t care that she didn’t know the words.
I digress. Ron ordered pizza from Papa Tom’s, a local pizzeria. The intent was to have it for both lunch and dinner and have enough left over for lunches.Ron and I got a large deluxe pizza because it has mushrooms and olives (the alpabet kids, hate those) and we got them an extra large cheese pizza. After all we have a growing teen who is a bottomless pit.
I ate two pieces before going back to the church for the YAK social (young adult court–and yes I know that court is spelled with a “c”).This is for young adults going through drug court. It is a great program that we sponsor every week. I have really been enjoying it and those young people.
Anyways, my tummy was feeling a bit uncomfortable but liveable. When we got home at 5:30, I was wiped and went to just lay on the bed. At 8:30, the Beloved wakes me up to see if I am going to eat so I can take my cupful of meds, 11 at night. I grab a couple more pieces and something to drink. No problem, it is amazing pizza.
The Teen brings his phone down a bit after his allotted time. I go through to check where he has been on it and content or as he declares it, “you are a stalker.” Yep, you are right and I am your mom, so I can be. I found some questionable items and called him for an explanation. I got the run around, different stories, anger, more weird convaluted tales and then the new catch phrase, “it’s a secret and I don’t want them mad”. I am never sure who is them.
Finally, he goes back to the dead socks teen cave. I decide to go back to the bed and play some games on my tablet . Suddenly I feel horrendous. My stomach, my chest…I feel like a mix of a hot poker and someone stomping up and down in my inwards. I try rearranging myself, I sigh this feels better. Then it comes in for the next wave of pain. I identify the issue and go get something to take. I open the cupboard and it is bare. I began to open drawers and I can’t find a thing to help.
I whimper and my husband sleeps. I whimper and he turns away, he is beginning to make his night music of loud drums and cymbals. It is now nearly 3 a.m. and I am still awake. I am sleepy but my stomach is not. It is having its own party. I think there is even a mariachi band hanging out there.
My eyes are growing heavy, I am going to sit up, curl into a tight ball. 6:30 a.m. comes quickly and I don’t think I will not have pizza for breakfast.