So I screwed up my courage and took Mads in for a blood allergy test. They have to fill an altogether too large vile with blood and then test it for every allergy under the sun. Needless to say it was a terrible experience - and the doctor couldn't find a vein. And he scratched her with the needle coming out. And he had pink eye (we were the last patient he was going to see before his replacement came in). Bad day. And no blood. And I just can't put her through that again for a little while. So I think I am going to wait until Summer to try it again.
In the meantime, she started coughing again (just 48 hours after I took her off both inhalers) - she obviously has caught a bug, as her nose is runny this time around. And she had a minor temperature, just over 100 - and coughing.
I cried all over hubs when got home. He spent last week in Japan. Most of the week before that in China. And this week he goes to Manila. And I have to say that while I adore living abroad, I really detest feeling so alone (even though I am surrounded by friends and other wives who go through the same thing). And of course I have help with the kids, and around the house, so why exactly am I complaining? Maybe it's because I grew up with parents who were around - as in, they didn't travel to different countries each week. Maybe it's because somewhere over the past 15 years I somehow misplaced my independence - or more likely it's because I have two little people who are so utterly extremely dependent on me.
And of course most of the time I love being here and manage to keep it all together - getting the kids to their activities on time, making sure they are eating whole grains, fresh organic veg and fruit. But when Madoc starts to wheez it suddenly feels like I can't breath either. Everything gets trapped inside me. I suddenly feel sick and alone, no matter how many people offer to help.
And so after years and years of people telling me to "relax" and "don't worry so much," I have made a promise to myself to make/take 40 minutes to do yoga every day for 30 days. Not only it is incredibly difficult for me to take this time to myself, it is also incredibly difficult to quiet all the things that go through my head.
But I can say that after 7 days of yoga, I am actually starting to feel good while I'm doing it. I no longer find myself waiting for it to be over. I actually don't want it to end. And so maybe, just maybe, yoga can help me find my breath, my peace - and if that's the case, maybe some day I can hand that gift down to my girls.