6th Aprm

September 11

I think the doctor is getting sorrier and sorrier that I ever happened into his office. This morning my still restless conscience urged the necessity of another laxative, so I took some of myoid standby -a nice tasting, sparkling, morning one. Got an awful pain in the middle of my stomach and in terror called the doctor. It seems that when he said mineral oil he meant mineral oil.

It isn’t that I mean to do all the wrong things.

After all I started out with the idea that this baby was to be the most scientific, the most accordingto-the-law child that was ever born. And here I haven’t taken but two or three pills in all this time, I’ve never gotten down to the dentist’s like I so firmly meant to. I washed instead of twaddled, I took the wrong dope, and I don’t even think pleasant thoughts.

Poor Jake seems to be taking it on the chin.

September 12

Unsick! Matter of note.

Matter of greater note: Pat swears we’re going to take a vacation before he goes to war. I’ll believe it when I see it.

September 13

Went out for the evening in formal finery. I know I was overdressed, even for a long-dress dinner, but I might as well pour it on while I can.

Felt marvelous and had me a whiskey and soda despite Patrick’s scowls (haven’t been able to convince him that the doctor really said an occasional drink or two was perfectly legitimate). A big night! We gathered around the dining room table for poker at a penny a chip just like Monte Carlo. I was going great guns. It was terrific. Well, I was seventy-eight cents ahead at 12: 30, and I was darned if I was going to quit with a winning streak sitting on me-but there came a great and gnawing hunger.

I wanted food. Even a cracker would have helped, but what I really needed was a big gory steak-I hope they don’t ration that along with the gas. Along with the hunger came the old familiar ache in my empty stomach. But I wouldn’t quit and I wouldn’t ask for food in front of all those people. It wasn’t until about I: 30 that I began to lose, so right away quick I said, “Oh, so weary,” and we left-practically booted out by knowing looks from all the women.

I rushed Pop home at a great pace and dived for the kitchen-where I quietly settled down to a pint of milk, four sandwiches of left-over chicken, and the last two peach dumplings. Pat said he felt a little pregnant himself and joined me in the feast, which put him in such good humor I broached the subject of vacation again. Not possible just now, it seems, but in a couple of weeks…