I’d like to consider myself less of a whiner these days sicne entering motherhood, where I have far too much to do to be sitting around complaining like a spoiled brat. But the itching, oh god, the itching. When my blistering splotches of red LEPROSY (ok, PI, but still) aren’t itching with the fury of a thousand suns, then they are prickly and almost painful. I worry I am getting rhe same infection Ash got. I don’t need to make an ER trip myself; there’s no extra 50 bucks for that co-pay just floating around.

Aside: if I were a character on Heroes, I’d want the ability to make money out of nothing.

Ash’s rash is subsiding, as far as I can tell. His big issue now is that the prednisone makes his heart race and he cannot concentrate. Last night, he couldn’t fall asleep due to this. I was in bed, reading through my pregnancy journal, just for the heck of it. He asked me to read to him. So I went through some entries, which detailed how I was feeling during each stage, how large, uncomfortable, and worried. How ecstatic, indifferent, diappointed. My emotions ran the gamut during those 9 months. Soon enough, Ash began snoring and I finished up reading in silence, bedside clock nearing midnight. It was a peaceful moment; few and far between are they these days.

I am restless today due to the PI and the general feeling that everyone looks at me like I am diseased.

More than anything, I could use some good hot food and a nap.

Happy Friday to those out there without poison ivy. And to those of you who may have it, I wish you a fast recovery. I’m miserable.