Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Lightning Can Totally Hit The Same Place Twice

You might want to look around for any oncoming storms before standing next to me these days. Because who wants to get struck by lightning around the holidays? In other words, I have not had the greatest of luck these days.

It all started Thursday evening when I managed to sprain my ankle by walking around my car. No obstacles in my way. I wasn't carrying anything. Just walking. And as I was laying on the pavement I had three thoughts, in this order: 1) I can feel my ankle swelling under my hand. This is not going to be good; 2) Come on, endorphins! Kick in!; 3) I can't even take any ibuprofen. Damn. Once the endorphins kicked in I was able to hobble inside and grab a bag of ice, which did not do much to decrease the swelling. My ankle looked like a flesh-colored orange. Eewww. So I had to stay home from work the next day because, you know, a nurse in a wheelchair doesn't inspire much confidence.

Then Sunday morning I was gently awakened by my son yakking all over me. My thoughts: 1) Oh great, now we have a stomach bug in our house; 2) Poor little guy; 3) Why does it always have to be all over me? I'm all for saving the furniture, but seriously. So I tempted fate by taking Cormac in the bathtub with me, but all that happened was that he felt better, and I smelled better. Success. And although he was low energy, he didn't yak for the rest of the day so I figured we were in the clear. And by Sunday night my ankle was feeling fairly OK, in that I could walk on it and a sock fit over it, so I figured no problem for going to work the next day. Hah.

I woke up Monday morning feeling rather nauseous, and I was like, really? Because I'm totally in my third trimester and this should be loooong gone by now. And then the diarrhea hit. You probably didn't want to know that, but we are all about full disclosure at this blog. It was way too late to call in at work, and after I yakked I felt a lot better, so I went on my way. At work I drank some water, and while I didn't feel top notch, I figured I could rally and maybe eat a granola bar or something. I went and saw my patient (don't worry, I am neurotic about washing my hands at work) and got the day going. But then that water started to feel not-so-good in my stomach.

And then I was back in the bathroom hugging the toilet. It's never fun to yak, but especially not so when it's not your own bathroom. Although to be honest with you, the bathroom at work is probably way cleaner than my bathroom anyway. Again, you probably didn't want to know that.

That's when the contractions started. Every three minutes. I didn't say anything about them at first, but when you work in Labor & Delivery people are very attuned to these sorts of things. They peer-pressured me into going down the the OB Screening Room to get it checked out. Honestly, it's probably good that they did, because I'm terrible about going to the doctor appropriately. Example: I was pretty sure Cormac had an ear infection, but I decided to wait a couple days to see if it would get better on its own. It didn't. He ended up on antibiotics anyway. (In my defense, the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that antibiotics not be prescribed right away because the majority of ear infections clear up on their own).

Anyway, I hadn't been able to keep anything down for about 12 hours, so I figured I was just dehydrated and that if I could just get some IV fluids in me, the contractions would stop. So I went down to the screening room where they hooked me up to the monitors (to watch baby and contractions) and started an IV. It was the first time I had ever been hooked up to the fetal monitors, and let me just say that I cannot imagine laboring while hooked up to those; they are majorly uncomfortable. I'm really glad I'm having a home birth. Plus the beds were more like dentist chairs, so trying to get comfortable was impossible.

After the first liter of saline went in, the contractions were still coming every three minutes. And as much as I didn't want to have any medicine, 32 weeks was waaaay to early for this baby to be coming so I got some terbutaline. It's really effective at stopping contractions, but it also makes you feel like you just snorted three lines of cocaine. Not that I would know, I just assume. So the contractions petered out while I got another liter of fluid and felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest, and baby had a dance party.

My cervix wasn't dilated at all, so I was sent home with strict instructions to come back if I had any more contractions. And I haven't for the past 24 hours. Recently I've even been able to keep down some Gatorade, two pieces of toast, and some chicken broth with noodles. Rock on. Heck, maybe this will slow down the ridiculous weight gain.

So both my stomach and ankle are on the mend, and I'm hoping I've used up any bad Karma for the next few months. But really, as long as Baby Fozzy is OK, I'm a happy Momma.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Cookie Monsters

Every year around this time, we get together with my family and spend a day making a massive amount of cookies. Then we split them up between all of us and enjoy them the rest of the holiday season. Depending on how fast you eat them. And being pregnant this year might have a serious effect on the cookie disappearance rate.

Cormac had fun cutting out cookies in the shape of Christmas trees, stars, and Santas, and just dropping random lumps of dough on the cookie sheet. Because as long as it tastes good, who cares what it looks like, right? Especially if you're gonna put frosting on them anyway.

My favorite cookies are are the Coconut-Cranberry Chews. They are little balls of cranberry-orange-coconut-butter deliciousness. The recipe is from Sunset magazine. I usually double the recipe because I don't mess around when it comes to these cookies. The resulting dough barely fit in my professional grade Kitchenaide mixer, but that actually turned out to be a good thing because then I got to thoroughly sample the dough. And there are no eggs in this recipe, so thorough sampling is actually encouraged.

Coconut-Cranberry Chews


  • About 1 1/2 cups (3/4 lb.) butter or margarine, at room temperature
  • 2 cups sugar
  • 1 tablespoon grated orange peel
  • 2 teaspoons vanilla
  • 3 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1 1/2 cups dried cranberries
  • 1 1/2 cups sweetened flaked dried coconut


1. In a large bowl, with a mixer on medium speed, beat 1 1/2 cups butter, sugar, orange peel, and vanilla until smooth.

2. In a medium bowl, mix flour, baking powder, and salt. Add to butter mixture, stir to mix, then beat on low speed until dough comes together, about 5 minutes. Mix in cranberries and coconut.

3. Shape dough into 1-inch balls and place about 2 inches apart on buttered 12- by 15-inch baking sheets.

4. Bake in a 350° regular or convection oven until cookie edges just begin to brown, 8 to 11 minutes (shorter baking time will yield a chewier cookie; longer baking time will yield a crispier cookie). If baking two sheets at once in one oven, switch their positions halfway through baking. Let cookies cool on sheets for 5 minutes, then use a wide spatula to transfer to racks to cool completely

The well-meaning people at Sunset included the nutritional information for each cookie, which I have chosen not to publish here for obvious reasons. Just enjoy the cookies.

Here is a photo of our work (notice Cormac in the background):

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Conversations With Cormac

At the Bronco's game today:
Me: Look, Cormac! What are they doing down on the field?
Cormac: Sleeping.
Chris: Yup, one of the teams is sleeping.

After the game:
Me: What should we make for dinner?
Cormac: Like, umm, food.

A little later:
Me: What do you want for dinner, Cormac?
Cormac: Food.
Me: What kind of food?
Cormac: Umm, dinner food.

So helpful.

Thursday, November 25, 2010


This Thanksgiving, Cormac ate his weight in cranberry sauce. Seriously.

We finally scaled back our Thanksgiving plans this year, which made it a far more enjoyable day. Both Chris's family and mine live in Denver, and every year we have always gone to both dinners. Which does have its good points: you get two Thanksgiving dinners, and you get to celebrate with both families. On the other hand, you can't really enjoy either dinner because you know you have to go eat another one, or you're really full from the previous one. And you can't spend as much time as you'd like with either family. Plus, now that we have a kid, we have to plan around nap time. Actually, I feel like life should be planned around nap time, no matter if you have kids or not. But that's neither here nor there.

So this year we celebrated with Chris's family. It was nice and small, only eight people total. Unfortunately, we didn't end up with any leftovers, but it was because the food was that good. Luckily, my parents always make enough for three times the actual number of guests, so we ended up with some Thanksgiving leftovers. And let's be honest, it wouldn't be Thanksgiving without leftovers, because why would you only want to stuff yourself once, when you could do it several more times over the next few days?

I am thankful for a wonderful husband and son who never fail to make me laugh; that we will be adding to our little family in a few short months; that we still have a few months before the chaos in our house increases by 247%; that I have a fabulous new job working with pregnant mama's and sweet little babies; and that we have a roof over our heads and food in the pantry.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thursday, November 18, 2010


We just got back from a really wonderful trip to Hawaii. We stayed on the island of Kauai, which is my favorite because it's like Colorado in Hawaii. You have mountains, canyons, and lots of outdoorsy things to do, plus gorgeous beaches and weather to die for. There's too much to write about here, so I'm just gonna let the pictures do most of the talking.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010


This was Cormac's first year trick-or-treating. Last year, we walked around and looked at the decorations and costumes in our neighborhood, but we didn't do any trick-or-treating because no one in the house needed any candy. Not that anyone needed any candy this year, but we figured Cormac would actually understand the concept of trick-or-treating, and he might even have fun.

I originally planned to do maybe five houses, because that's how long I thought Cormac's attention span would last, but he quickly made it clear that we would be doing as many houses as possible, thank you very much. At first, he was a bit reluctant to go up to someone's door and say, "Trick-or-treat!" The first attempt involved a lot of "No." But then when he got that first piece of candy, something clicked in his brain, and he was hooked. We heard a lot of "Again!" after that.

The only slight problem was that he kept trying to go in people's houses. I had to go in after him a few times. Apparently if someone gives you candy, that means you can walk right on into their house. We're probably gonna have to work on that, otherwise this kid is gonna get himself abducted.

I wasn't able to take any pictures on Halloween night, because Cormac was waaaaay too excited by all the costumes and decorations and pumpkins and candy candy candy to be bothered to hold still for a picture. But he put on his costume the next day so I was able to snap a few. He even humored me by pretending to fly around the porch.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Happy Autumn!

Today was the last day of the farmers' market in our neighborhood, which meant that it was also the day of the annual pumpkin patch. Every time you spend a certain amount at each of the vendors' tents, you get tickets, and then you use those tickets to "buy" pumpkins. We got a few with our breakfast of biscuits and gravy from the biscuit bus, and then one more because Fozzy decided he/she wanted a cinnamon roll. We got two from Gramps, and a very nice lady gave us two more because she decided Cormac looked like he needed some pumpkins (even though he had his finger up his nose at the time. Or perhaps because of it).

Here are some pictures of our morning:

Thursday, October 14, 2010

A Little Taste Of Our Day

I set Cormac's breakfast plate down in front of him this morning.

Cormac: Mud!

Me: That's peanut butter toast, buddy.

Cormac: Mud!

Me: I like the way you think, though.

Other than the peanut butter toast for breakfast, Cormac's menu for the day revolved around cheese. I really didn't intend for it to be that way, but it's just sort of how the day's meals turned out. Snack was a piece of string cheese eaten on our way to the zoo. Lunch was a grilled cheese sandwich at the zoo. Grilled cheese is my go-to meal for Cormac when we're out and about because I know he'll eat it even though he may be distracted by Birds flying! or Bee bzzzz! or Baby crying! At this point, it did occur to me that there had already been a lot of cheese involved in the day, but there was still a lot of time left to add some other food groups.

His afternoon snack was part of a graham cracker, so that was good, but then dinner was cauliflower smothered in......cheese. Cormac gobbled it right up, which I found interesting because I've made roasted cauliflower a few times lately (we have a plethora of cauliflower these days thanks to our CSA), and Cormac doesn't seem to be a fan. Personally, I think roasting is just about one of the most delicious things one can do with cauliflower, but apparently Cormac doesn't agree with me. You should try it though; just toss cauliflower florets with olive oil and sea salt and roast at 425 degrees until it starts to turn golden. The best part is the little crispy bits.

I feel like I should have a problem with all the cheese consumed today, but I really don't. Cheese has protein and calcium. And, hey, it got Cormac to eat cauliflower. Plus, cheese is delicious. We should all eat more cheese.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Alarm Clock

We recently switched Cormac out of his crib and into a twin bed. Not necessarily because he was ready, but because Babies R Us was having a trade-in sale for cribs (bring your old, used one in, and we'll give you 25% off a new one). And since our old crib was apparently a death trap (read: dropside crib), we decided to take advantage of the sale. I mean, Cormac survived, but he's scrappy and has no fear. And he slept with us for the first six months of his life, which is likely what this next baby is going to do anyway, but still. Death Trap.

The transition was fairly smooth, especially considering that we did absolutely no prep work beforehand. Mostly it was, "Oh! Look! A big-boy bed!" And when Cormac discovered that he could jump around more wildly on this one, he never looked back.

The first few mornings, he didn't realize that he wasn't confined to his bed, and would lay there and moan until we came to get him. But then a little light went on in his head, and at 6:30 one morning we heard: click, pitter-patter-pitter-patter, "Oh wow! Hi, Momma! Hi, Daddy!" I'm not sure why the realization of freedom had to coincide with an hour-earlier wake up time, but sometimes the universe is cruel that way.

Then one night I had gotten up to pee for the third time, when I thought I heard a little voice outside our room. I looked out in the hallway, but there was no one there. A glance toward Cormac's room told me his door was open and his room was empty. Huh. And then I heard the sound of little feet on hardwood floor, and I realized that Cormac had gone downstairs. By himself. At 2:00 in the morning.

I came downstairs to find him holding his stuffed rabbit while looking at a book and drinking some water. Like you do at 2:00 am. It took awhile to convince him that it was, in fact, night-night time, but eventually he went back to sleep in his big-boy bed, and I went back to sleep in my pillow-infested bed. Only to be woken up at 6:30 am by, "HI!"

We are currently reconfiguring the baby gate layout.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Exploding Heads

Yowza. We have been busy.

When I was little, my dad was a Certified Public Accountant who did other people's taxes. This meant that for the entire month of March and half of April, we didn't see him. Literally. September is kind of like that for Chris; it's his tax season. The membership year at his tennis club begins October 1, so September is filled with trying to get people to renew their memberships by appreciating them with Member Appreciation Month, which basically means that he works at least 70 hours every week.

Meanwhile, I struggle to be both a part time Registered Nurse and a full time Mom/Housekeeper/Cook/Incubator. What this means in layman's terms is that I am treading water while slowly being carried out to sea. A sea of guitars, stuffed monkeys, dump trucks, and blocks, with a little dirty laundry and a lot of dog hair mixed in. Plus, for some reason I had the fabulous idea to pick up some extra shifts at work. It always seems like a good idea at the time, and then when those extra days roll around, I'm like, "What the hell was I thinking?" Extra money is NOT worth it. Well, it's kind of worth it, but it would be a lot easier if someone would just give me that extra money for free.

I am sure other mothers handle this much better than I do. But all I can do is grit my teeth and tell myself that maybe I'll get to sleep in October.

10 more days...

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Trudging Through Mud

I promise that I meant to post more often. But, well, obviously that's not happening. I'm just so freaking tired; this pregnancy is really taking it out of me. And now that I'm in the second trimester, it's gotten better, so that's really saying something about how tired I was before. It was like everyday I did a full Ironman, retiled the bathroom, chased a half-naked monkey-child around the house, and wrestled a giant squid into leather pants. Only one of those actually happened. I'll let you guess which one.

Like I said, it's gotten better (sometimes I don't even need a nap during the day!), but by the time I put Cormac to bed, all I want to do is collapse on the couch, shovel some Ben & Jerry's into my mouth, and watch HGTV. It's not so much the physical exhaustion as the mental exhaustion. I can't even think anymore. Like, I have trouble remembering the English language: is it unproductive or nonproductive? That's a real example from this morning. I've thought about posting, but I always end up deciding that it would take waaaay too much energy to type, much less use proper grammar.

I also feel like I have a pretty darned good excuse for not posting for the last two weeks, at least. I woke up one friday morning at 2 am with excruciating tooth pain, while we happened to be camping. And while I'm on the subject of camping, let me just say that camping while pregnant is not something I'd really recommend. Don't get me wrong, I love camping. I just don't love getting up 2-3 times in the middle of the night to stumble through the forest, drop trou, and try not to pee on my shoes. Anyway, the tooth pain. It was bad. And of course it happened on a Friday, so I got to deal with it all weekend, with nothing to do about it but take Tylenol. Which is a placebo drug, but the way. Pure sugar.

Basically, my tooth had gotten infected and required a root canal. Everybody cringes when you tell them you have to have a root canal. And it does sound pretty intimidating. But I've got to say, it's really just a huge filling that requires several looooong drills. And it wouldn't have been all that bad, except that the local anesthetic wore off halfway through the procedure. Yeah. I would give birth any day before doing that again.

It doesn't end there, though. I thought the root canal would solve the pain problems, but the pain just kept getting worse. It had turned into an almighty sinus infection. So two days after having an inch-long piece of metal all up in my tooth's business (a week after all the pain started in the first place), I said, "BRING ON THE DRUGS!" I filled the prescriptions for percocet and penicillin that had been sitting in my purse for 5 days. And I have to say, I still felt really bad about taking them. I had been avoiding any pills (besides my placebo pills) because I didn't want the baby to have anything unnecessary, especially narcotics. But it had gotten to the point where I couldn't actually function. I couldn't even eat. I felt like it was a lose-lose situation, but the benefits finally outweighed the risks for me. Hopefully I didn't screw up this kid too much yet.

I have now emerged on the other side of The Great Tooth-scapade, and I'm sorry to say that I'm not better for it. It did not build any character. Mostly it just made me crabby.

My brain has now turned into complete mush, and I can't write anything else coherent. Also, I still haven't found the camera.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Long Time, No See

I was waiting to post this until I found the camera and could post some pictures of our vacation, but as of yet, I have only found the camera case. Once I find the actual camera, I'll add some pictures.

Yeah, I realize I've been MIA for a while. Highlights of the past couple months in brief: we took a really wonderful family trip to South Padre Island, TX, then I worked a lot (which was not wonderful), then I was just lazy (semi-wonderful), then Chris totally screwed up his back (wonderful, in the most sarcastic way possible). The last item meant that I was really busy doing everything around the house, and Chris was monopolizing the computer (and the TV. At the same time. What a multi-tasker!).

We had a ton of fun in South Padre Island. Chris has family down there, and they were kind and generous enough to let us stay in one of the houses they own down there, a house that just happens to be half a block away from the beach (yeah, it's about as plush as it sounds). Cormac absolutely LOVED the beach, other than the taste of sand, which he tried not once, but twice, for good measure. The waves were a little bigger than they usually are (so I was told), but Cormac thought they were just about the best thing ever. Actually, the bigger the wave, the more excited he got, and he would quite literally run straight into the waves. And he would just keep going deeper and deeper until someone grabbed him before he was pulled under, which annoyed him. The kid has no fear.

I'm not going to go into detail about working a lot because it's mostly boring. Other than the old, naked guy running down the hall while trying to escape. He was pretty fast.

And finally, Chris's back is a lot better, thank goodness. Turns out he has a bulging disc, and I know all about that sort of pain. Not fun. But the nice thing about the bulging disc (as opposed to a herniated disc, like I had) is that the body will reabsorb it, and the pain goes away. I mean, he still has to be careful not to bend and twist at the same time, or lift heavy things incorrectly, but, really, everyone should be doing that anyway.

Ok, I'm gonna try hard to post more often, but I'm not promising anything.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Le Artiste

We recently got Cormac a table and chairs set that's sized for him and doesn't necessitate a combination of climbing, contorting, and balancing to climb into one, as our regular dining chairs do. Also, these pint-sized chairs don't allow him to climb onto the dining room table. Yet. That isn't to say that Cormac will stop climbing from the dining chairs onto the table, but I'm hoping a table and chairs of his own will at least limit the adrenalin pumping through my circulatory system on a daily basis. (As I write this he is standing on one of our dining chairs, alternating between bouncing and rocking back and forth. And now he's licking the chair.)

We also got him a box of crayons and some paper, and he's been having fun drawing at his table. The problem is, he doesn't understand (or chooses to ignore) the We Only Draw On Paper policy, and so his drawing has been confined to neither the paper, nor the crayons. In fact, the kid managed to find the only permanent marker in the house that had not been confiscated, and proceeded to expand his definition of "paper."

Monday, April 19, 2010

Boot Couture

Chris and I don't really get out much anymore. Not that we really got out all that much before having a child, but I like to think we were a fairly fun, hip, young couple. You could find us at the neighborhood bar for happy hour on the patio on a spring afternoon. We kept up with the openings of hot, new restaurants. We knew about what was going on, you know, in the real world.

Now? Not so much. I only know about new music if I happen to hear something I haven't heard before on the radio, and then happen to remember who they said the artist was. I now totally understand why my mom has NO idea who any '80s bands are, or really what happened during the '80s in general.

I mean, we try to do date night on occasion, but it's usually not anywhere terribly exciting. Which is why I don't often get to wear any of my fancy shoes. Luckily for me, my son is extremely gifted at repurposing items around the house. What? You thought that was a dump truck? No, it's really more of a step stool. And this eraser? He prefers to think of it more as a snack.

And as for Momma's fancy shoes?

A great alternative to a pantry.

Monday, March 15, 2010

So Here's a Random Thought:

I was thinking about the word hepatomegaly, like you do, and it occurred to me that if you add an “r” it becomes herpetomegaly. So, like, giant lizards or something. And then I realized that the suffixes hepa- and herpe- are very similar and when used interchangeably can create a great amount of amusement (for dorks like me). Observe: hepatology, herpetitis, herpes. Wait, I don’t think that last one works. Actually, though, it does make you realize that maybe herpes is a pretty darned good moniker (see attributes of a lizard, below).

Also, the words liver and lizard are pretty darn similar as well. The two things don’t really seem to have all that much in common: livers are soft and squishy, and they bleed a lot if you smack them too hard. Lizards are scaly and bony, and they like to lie in the sun. I’ve never smacked a lizard though, so I don’t know how much they bleed. On the other hand, if you cut off part of a liver it will regenerate, and if you cut off part of a lizard’s tail it will grow back. So maybe they’re more similar than I thought.

Thursday, February 11, 2010


In the mornings, Chubbs usually wakes up around 7:15, yells until he wakes me up, and then I bring him into our bedroom where he runs around finding books and demanding to be read to. This buys me an extra 15 minutes in bed, and even though I'm not sleeping, any little bit helps. This morning was no different. We read The Mitten, Alexander And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, and The Velveteen Rabbit before I dragged myself out of bed.

I was hunting for my slippers when Chubbs went running by and I noticed something weird about his left ankle. It seemed padded. And for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why or how he had stuffed some sort of cloth, or maybe a sock, into his pajamas. As he turned to run the other direction, I noticed his butt looked decidedly less padded (read: he no longer had a butt, for which he has his father to thank). Do you understand what happened?

The kid had somehow managed to take off his diaper INSIDE HIS ZIP-UP PAJAMAS, and it was hanging out around his left ankle. After brief visions of a high school graduation streaking debacle, I scooped him up and remedied the situation. At least he didn't pee everywhere while he was free as a bird. However, for full disclosure, I feel I ought to mention that it was a poopy one.

Friday, February 5, 2010


So it's been awhile. Not because things have been terribly busy, but because I've just been doing other things. I've started a few knitting projects (and bought enough yarn for several).
I'm half way through a really good book (Let The Great World Spin by Colum McCann), and I've been trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to keep the house clean. Not so much the whole house, because that would be overly ambitious, as the floors and the kitchen. These are the two things that have to be clean in order for me to not feel totally crazy-stressed-out. I don't know why this is. Anything and everything else in the house can be messy, but as long as the floors are clean and the kitchen is tidy, I'm OK.

But even keeping those two things clean is a serious challenge while also trying to keep track of a busybusybusy Chubbs. He is quite practiced at opening doors and will be around the corner and through the laundry room door before you can say wheredoyouthinkyou'regoing?! Plus, after he goes in the laundry room he closes the door behind him, so unless you're practicing good listening skills you sometimes have no idea where he's gone. And this wouldn't be so much of a problem if the access to the basement weren't through the laundry room, and if Cormac didn't keep trying to climb into the washing machine. So we've ordered a gate to keep him in the living room/dining room/kitchen. Because it's too cold right now to stick him on a bungee cord on the porch.

The cold has not stopped us from going to the park, though. If this kid doesn't get his outside time everyday, there is inevitably a meltdown. We were actually in the process of getting ready to go to the park today, and he cried big, fat crocodile tears until we got outside. Like, "My life is totally ruined because we aren't outside, and if we don't go outside this instant I am going to dissolve into a boneless baby mass of tears!" But once we were outside everything was right with the world once again. Even though the wind was blowing at about 25 mph.

In fact, we were the only people at the park, because everyone else had sense enough to stay inside. I think looking out the window to see street lights shaking like jello may have encouraged others to scramble for paper, glue, and glitter. But they weren't facing the possibility of spending an afternoon with Mr. Crabbypants. So we stayed at the park until I was freezing, and then we went back inside like normal people.

So, yeah. In the midst of all this running around and trying to appease the master of the house, I've been trying to do things I like to do. But I've found that I can only choose two of my things per day; I do one while Cormac is napping in the morning, and then I do one after he has gone to bed. If I try to do more than one thing during either time, it all just seems very frantic, and that totally defeats the purpose of doing something I like. And so my blog has been neglected, because I've been having fun knitting.
Ooh, ooh! And guess what? Cormac is sleeping through the night!!!!! But now that I've said that the sky is going to come crashing down and we are all going to suffer mightily. Sweet.