The girls and I have moved up to my parents for a few weeks.
My parents, Dustin and I all decided it would be for the best.
Between traveling, the days the girls came up here, Dustin's days off where we had the girls, etc., etc.....
My world was too inconsistent and my diet likewise.
So far we have been up here for a week and it has been amazing. I am so very grateful for my parents and sisters for allowing us to invade their territory.
Faith, for example, is sleeping on the couch so Gabi can sleep in her room.
News on the doctor front.
We are waiting to hear back from a naturopath out in Colorado.
I've filled out a form and sent a blood sample.
The blood sample was the hard part.
It required being pricked.
I HATE being pricked.
If I had my choice I'd rather be stuck with a needle any day.
My dad was elected for the task.
Since all any of us had experienced with pricking was one of those handy dandy little machines, we weren't sure what to expect.
I gave my hand over to my dad and looked away.
He braced himself and then jabbed.
I quickly pulled my hand away, sure blood would be spurting.
Not. a. drop.
He reached for my hand again.
Like a baby I pulled it closer, teared up, and said something mature like, "I don't want to be pricked again. I won't do it!"
My poor dad. I knew it was breaking his heart to stick a needle into me in the first place.
Finally I got the bright idea to numb the pain with an ice cube.
I wanted to sit there all night with the cube, but finally I worked up my nerve again and handed my finger over to what felt like the gallows.
Faith, bless her heart, even had her guitar out to sing away my fears.
It took a couple more jabs, but finally that coveted blood appeared.
I desperately squeezed the required drops out, barely making the quota.
Then apologized to my dad for being such a big baby. :-)
All I have to say is that they had better appreciate that blood sample.
It was hard won! :-)