1. There is a growing movement among my friends to hate Tuesday. It's not a Monday. It's not closer to the weekend. It's not even the middle of the week. It's just there, taking up space in my week--one more day to get through. This whole month has been one big fat Tuesday. We've been sick--rounding out the month with a double ear infection and pneumonia for RJ, a sinus infection and upper respiratory infection for me, and a nasty snot-slinging cold for GiGi. We are exhausted. And what do we get? Another day in February. Of course, it's a leap year.
2. We are getting better. RJ is back. He's eating. (Last Friday we reached a new low--throwing donut holes at RJ in the bed--our bed, not his--just to get him to eat). GiGi is sleeping more than two hours at a time again. And, thank God for antibiotics and modern medicine.
3. RJ was a biter when he was about 18 months old. Apparently, he's suffering a relapse. Tonight, I left him and his sister on the bed for five minutes while I went to get his 'jamas. GiGi screamed bloody murder. After convincing RJ I wasn't mad (I was furious) and promising him he's not in trouble (he was), he told me he bit his sister. On the belly. And broke the skin. And left a huge hickey. He spent some quality time in timeout. Naked. He still hadn't gotten his 'jamas after the bath. (Don't worry grandma. I did give him a towel.).
4. RJ is not a boss. We tell him this frequently. I am a boss. I am reminded of this every night when RJ asks, "After supper, do I have time to play with dad?" Dad, on the other hand, is not part of the decision making process.
5. We periodically fancy moving to a new house. This involves much daydreaming and internal panicking at the thought of packing my boxes. Not packing in boxes. Packing my boxes. I am not a hoarder. But I did get a really awesome Nordstrom gift box for Christmas. It's in the gift closet. It, by itself, is a gift.
6. Hubbsie and I aren't particularly affectionate. But I know he loves me when we fancy moving to a new house, and he says, "You could just use the formal living room for the Christmas tree room." A whole room dedicated to the Christmas tree! Yes, it must be love.
7. Sometimes RJ makes me laugh:
On Careers
Me: "RJ, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
RJ: "A bear. A papa bear. Oh! And I want to use really big scissors!"
RJ: "I gonna be a fireman when I grow up. I gonna fire people. I say, you're in a heap of trouble and we'll put them in jail!" (Future HR director perhaps?)
On Holidays (He has a particular obsession with Christmas. Still. In February.)
Me: "Where does Santa land his sled?"
RJ: "At the airport."
RJ: "When I sleep I never see Santa outside the curtains. Do he live on the highway?"
8. Just completely gratuitous:
Why yes, yes he does have a velvet sport coat. He's very dashing.
Feet! I have feet! (And quite a little squeezable belly. It apparently makes a nice chew toy for a three year old too.)
I'm five months old! And yes, yes I do wear ruby red slippers (and so did my mom, these were hers). Note: We actually considered naming GiGi "Sunny." It would have fit beautifully.
9. Recovering from the stomach flu isn't all bad. It makes a nice excuse for making sopapilla cheesecake. If you've never had it, you should. It's kind of like Thanksgiving comfort food (croissant dough and butter) at a fiesta (cinnamon, sugar, and crispy goodness). That cheesecake helped put back the 8 pounds the stomach flu stole.
10. The Beatles had it right:
I've got to admit it's getting better...It's a little better all the time...
It's almost Wednesday! February is almost over! It's getting better!
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