I have some mixed feelings about being home again. After talking to hubby regarding how hard it had been on both of us to be separated, and my health, we had on Monday night that Owen and I would come home after two more weeks. Then, on Tuesday morning, my mum got a call and found out that her mum is not doing well health-wise.
First thing I did was convince her to go back to Phoenix and see Grandma. Because, duh. That has to happen. Today is the start of my third week back on methotrexate, and I was already starting to feel it having an effect Tuesday morning. The stormy weather did not murder me, for one.
The other issue was what the Jonesies would do about Abbie, since Mum watches her pretty much every weekday. But that wasn’t a problem either, since her other grandma is quite happy to step in for the short time she’ll be needed.
I spent the morning convincing Mum I’d be okay, that I too have more family to help. We packed up Owen’s huge load of stuff (and totally forgot the bottle warmer, so that’s been fun) and came back home in the evening.
Point of guilt: At his 2:30 feeding, apparently Hubby asked if I wanted him to feed Owen, and I said yes. In my sleep, as I have no memory of this. But Owen ate 100mL of formula and I still changed his diaper, so yay. :D Also, he did okay burping even though we also forgot his gripe water. That one is going to cause a problem, but my dad is bringing by a box of formula that’s coming by delivery to that house (as we thought we’d still be there) today.
As last-minute as this situation was, it really didn’t throw us off all that much. Owen is back home and arguably happy about it, I’m comfy in both houses and feeling tentatively good despite some stomach trouble (either I ate too much or its the medication), and we’ve basically settled right back in.