Getting my heavy-sleeper son to use his inhaler when his asthma flares up is impossible, so last night, I carried him into our room to use the nebulizer after he resisted my attempts to wake up and administer his puffs.
I propped him in my spot on the bed, got the nebulizer set up, turned it on, and watched the mist appear around his nose to ease his breathing. Once that started going, I went to get a glass of water, and returned to this.
My husband and son, holding hands, resting contently while the nebulizer hummed. Completely peaceful and serene. Continue reading
Does this one look ready for bedtime to you?
All he wants to do is babble and talk. And I’m such a sucker for good conversation, so I took him to Martin, who was sorting socks. From what I could hear, the baby babbled for a bit, but he was zonked O-U-T within 15 minutes. Sorting socks will do that to you!
Martin and I were coming up with ways to describe Junior and his personality so far, and Martin asked, “Were our other babies this happy?”
Of course, our older babies were happy babies. But I knew what he meant by his question. Continue reading
This man is a machine. The past week has been intense. Driving here and there. Cleaning. Carrying boxes. Moving furniture. Painting. Repairing. Handling all the finances and endless paperwork. Digging out clothes and shoes and whatever else the rest of us need to get thru our day. Continue reading
Kiwi the Cat just loves her babies. She’s nothing, but sweet and patient as Junior scratches her ears and waves his hand over her whiskers, just as the Middles did with Kiwi when they were babies. Continue reading
As I drove into work this morning, I saw two young men (barely in their 20s) in a small work truck, hauling a trailer full of greenery away from a construction zone. While at a red light, I watched as they stopped where a flower stand was set up, and the passenger popped out to buy a small bouquet of pink roses. His driver leaned over and yelled something, and the passenger picked up a small card, too. He hopped back into the truck, his driver high-fived him, and then they drove off as the young man wrote something in the card.
I like to think I witnessed someone being a good wingman and helping his buddy get on someone’s good side.
Oh, now he’s just getting fancy. This was the last night’s coffee message to me.
A photo from dinner last week at our favorite Indian restaurant.
The baby got his first taste of solid food, too: the sauce from chicken tikka masala.
This week is gonna be a doozy. Not only is there work and school, but we are packing. We are painting. We are moving. And we are hosting about 25 relatives for our biggest Thanksgiving feast ever. We are optimistic, but I think the baby is a realist. He knows his parents [*ahem*his mother] are a glutton for punishment!
Martin’s taken off work for the next two weeks and will be the family pack mule/work horse while I call in the honey-do list from the comfort of my office swivel chair.
Another night class last night. Another coffee from my hubby. But no message this time, probably because I was right there when he ordered it, and it would have been silly for him to dictate a message about the person standing next to him. But still…