I ate a bunch of peeps this morning. It was not my intention. But the onslaught of references to peeps I have seen in the past few days has pushed me over the edge. I bought a single package of the things last week, intending to put them in Phoebe’s Easter basket, as her one candy item. (She gets really wired from chocolate, so we tend to avoid it.) But then I didn’t actually manage to get a basket together, barely managed to even dye some eggs, and so I still had this package of peeps sitting around. I don’t often eat marshmallows, due to the gelatin. But I do love their squishiness. But after the 10 seconds that it took me to shovel half a package of them into my mouth, I am left with an extended feeling of ickiness.
Aside from that, I’m feeling a bit queasy from the many other things going on in my life. John has been uber-busy with his work. And I’m feeling the pressure of work, too. I mentioned that various subsets of my research group have been accepted for 3 conference presentations. Well, two of these will be at the same conference, which is now just over 2 weeks away.
The third presentation will be in early May at a conference in Brazil. Currently I’m in the process of getting my visa application together. (Because they don’t take American Express.) The process makes me a bit nervous, as I fear that if I don’t get the application right, things will be delayed excessivley, and I won’t get to go. I’m also both very excited and somewhat nervous about the trip.
Phoebe has also been serving up some challenges lately. She has been crying and whining a lot more than is her custom. She has now started crying when I drop her off at daycare. Last week, things were apparently not the greatest at daycare. I thought it was because she was a bit sick. But she’s back in good health now, from all other indications. Even at home, she will sometimes cry, for example, when I say I have to go to the bathroom. As you might imagine, this is a fairly frequent occurrence. And it doesn’t even matter if I say she can come with me. I think this may be contributing to my overall level of tiredness, which leads to me sometimes falling asleep while telling Phoebe her usual post-bath, post-book, in-crib bedtime “stories.” I say “stories” because often she just wants me to tell her about dogs, her playgroup, Grammy’s house, or (and thankfully this is losing favor) the radiator at daycare.
Another thing on my mind is the appointment I have tomorrow for my big 18-week ultrasound. While I am, of course, concerned with the health and well-being of the creature within, and will be glad to have reassurance that it is not some sort of tentacled alien spawn, I am also terribly curious about the other information that they will be able to determine. In a recent comment, Mme. M asked whether I would “…be finding out if the little peanut has a cheeseburger or a hot dog?” That is certainly my general intention. But rather than go for the meat (bi-)product metaphors, I’ll go for some fruit imagery instead.
So, which will it be?