Snot, that is. My head is pounding, I can’t breath, and the redness in my eyes is only paralleled by the chapped red lips. I think it’s time for my Glamour shot, people!
Alice brought home a lovely cold/flu virus from daycare, for which I thank her every day. She started the family cycle last weekend, with a fever and sore throat. And now Matt and I have had a chance to join in the fun. At the same time. Two parents sick at the same time do not equal a productive household. Although the good news is that I have caught up on my Dexter screenings, so there has been some success.
I suppose I should be happy that I’m (hopefully) done with sickness before the holidays this year. And truly Alice has been an excellent awesome little being this past weekend. I am loving LOVING 4 years old. Or I guess it’s more like 4-and-a-half, as her next birthday approaches soon. But really, she is learning to get past the tantrums and the frustration. And more importantly, it seems we have finally arrived at the independent play stage. She can now occupy herself for over an hour playing pretend. Which is wonderful, because if I really need a break from being the customer at her restaurant where I am told what to say and do for hours.
Baby #2 continues to do well in there. Moving all the time and reminding me of its impending presence in the outside world. Every now and again I’ll feel a swift kick against my bladder, as if it’s saying “yo, don’t forget about me! I’m a coming for you sooooooonn.” (next up in my therapy session: why do I tend to equate this baby with something from a horror movie? Can’t wait for that discussion).
Matt and I managed to get a quick getaway last week in New York. I went for work, he went for play. Basically that meant I dragged my tired pregnant ass around to tv meetings, and then met a rejuvenated husband at the end of the day who just wanted to rock NYC. But despite the exhaustion, I did drag this ass out of the hotel for a great memorable night at the famous Birdland jazz club. A magical magical night. We got a chance to flirt over semi-ok lounge food and watch a semi-ok jazz singer, which was bliss if you can believe it. The crowning glory for this uber-emotional mama was when the singer did a cover of Stevie Nicks’ Landslide. Ah cheezy music, how I love thee. Especially in a dimly lit jazz club over cheese cake. And only in New York, of course.
So that’s about the total of what’s being going on here the last little while. Oh wait – did I forget to mention that I shocked myself with the xmas tree lights last weekend and totally flipped out and worried I had done something terrible to the baby and cried in front of Alice and called my midwife in hysterics and then was told everything was fine but that I had to make sure I felt fetal movement for the next few days? Oh yes, that also happened. But luckily all was fine and then a certain cold virus took over my body and gave me something new to obsess over.
