We learned this week, the hard way, that sleep is in fact better than pizza. It had been a month sans dairy, but Saturday rolled around and I hadn't done a load of laundry in four days, no cleaning, no diaper washing, no fresh fruit, nothing from the freezer thawed. The kids were stinky because they hadn't been bathed, and I was doing the little I could do to keep things functioning without trying to get overwhelmed with all the time I had to make up for.
So...Mark ordered pizza. The thought that I shouldn't be eating pizza didn't really register, such was my state of mind at the time. I was just happy that everyone was fed and that there weren't any dishes to add to the sink.
The next day...
Let's just say that if dairy were a bee sting and that Paul was allergic to bee stings, pizza sent him into anaphalectic shock. I have seen every hour of the clock for the past two nights, up at least once an hour trying to console a baby with terrible gas pains that nothing will relieve, not to mention an unbecoming facial rash which we've attributed to the dairy.
I feel terrible for putting Paul through the gut-wrenching experience yet again, and in general feel a little down that there are so many foods that I really need to avoid for both Paul's sake and my sanity.
But, as Mark so brilliantly put as I trudged down the stairs this morning after a fitful night, "Sleep is better than pizza."
Hands down.
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2 comments:
Oh Mallory! I know the feeling . . . except you learned faster than me. For some reason I kept thinking "maybe this time it won't be so bad." Yeah right! I couldn't agree more, sleep is better than pizza.
Oh your poor thing! On top of all that you have going on, you have not had sleep. Everything looks so much brighter when you are rested. Here's hoping tonight is better.
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