So Rob's sick. And by sick I mean "waking me up 13 times last night because he had to go throw up and wanted to discuss each occurrence in glorious Technicolor prose." Listen, Buddy, I want to be supportive, really I do, but I have to wake up before the sun to tend your offspring, and frankly I just don't want to know. NO PART OF ME WANTS TO KNOW.
However, he seems to be on the mend - although he was too weak to protest my watching Martha Stewart this morning, this afternoon he's laid claim to the remote, and it's been CMT since 2:00. Is that cute? My desperately ill spouse watches Trisha Yearwood on purpose. Why he bitches about Martha I'll never know - at least she showed us how to divide ferns.
Norah's really put on her big girl panties this week. She has her first tooth, which thanks to her father's dental genetics is growing in crooked and is thus extremely pointy. (Yes, I know you can't tell anything about a kid's teeth at this point. I also know you're not supposed to use it as a can opener. NOW.) She's also getting quite good at the flip-and-sit, a delicate maneuver wherein she rolls over onto her belly, scrabbles around with her meaty little paws, and eventually makes it into a sitting position. It's kind of funny and yet kind of sad to watch; she's gone from being my little baby to being my little Weeble, and I'm not sure I was ready for that.
Lord, it's windy down here. Are you freezing, wherever you are?
Posted in: on 1/18/2006 at at 3:37 PM