Cole: “Mom, can I have more apple juice?”
Me: “No, it’s all gone. There’s no more.”
Cole: (mumbling and with his hands over his mouth) “I don’t love you anymore.”
So I stopped what I was doing to turn around and look at him.
Me: “What did you say?”
Cole: (still mumbling through his fingers) ” I love you.”
Me: “No, that’s not what you said. What did you say?”
Cole: (covering his face) “I don’t remember.”
Still working through this one….
We hope to find out soon, but in the meantime, cast your vote. I put a poll up on the left side of the blog so you can do so.
BTW, I know the blog look is weird and I plan on working on it. I plan on it. But I am like 6 weeks behind in client work and the aesthetics of my blog will have to come later. BooHoo, but I’ll have some very happy clients who will now be relieved to know I am back in business and ready to deliver! Thanks for being so patient with me!
Now go vote!
Some days are good, some days are bad, and some days are really really bad. This is the 3rd good day in a row and probably something to celebrate. But I’m still leery and scared because the last time I celebrated, it bit me in the bum. For 6 weeks. So, we’ll just say I’m having a good day, good enough to blog briefly.
I’m sure you’re wondering just how bad my days have been. Let’s just say that my toilet and I have become a lot more intimate than I am comfortable with. But even sadder is that my toilet and toddler have also become a lot more intimate than I am comfortable with. We spend a lot of our time in the guest bathroom he and I. There are strict rules that must be followed:
the toilet bowl must be clean at all times
the toilet must remain flushed at all times
the toilet seat and rim must be wiped down after every use
the blue stool must be present at all times
the shower curtain must be open and draped up at all times
there must be clean hand towels readily available
a clean glass must also always be readily available
and absolutely NO pooping in the guest bathroom (or at least I must never know about it)
Little Man has really grown into his own and now has to take care of his Mom. Here is a teeny-tiny dysfunctional glimpse of the happenings of our house these last few weeks:
Yes, that’s my three year old holding my head and rubbing my back as I throw up. He’s also saying, “Mommy, it’s ok. You’re going to be ok.”
I know. It’s pretty sad. He then gets me wet towels and fills a glass of water and then demands that I drink,…and then swallow. And he watches me, and waits, to make sure I swallow.