The Week in Review

So, you'll be happy to know I'm not the same cranky battle-axe that I was on Tuesday. Things are looking up!

Baby Girl decided to shut off the faucet feature on her nose inasmuch as it doesn't leak constantly anymore. She still does need to employ the use of a Kleenex now and again, so should you run into her in public and this be the case, please forgive her. I am just loving her to pieces these day. She is at the best age. We pass our mornings having conversations like this:

Me: LilaGirl, do you want some bananas for breakfast?
L.G.: Dadadadada. Ayayayayaya. Babababababa. Eeeeeeee! Eeeeee! (Bangs on high chair, indicating the desire for food. Looks at me like she honestly believes I understood what she said.)

Hey, at least I'm not talking to myself anymore.

The boys have apparently exhausted the fun-factor out of terrorizing me because that has abated. Although perhaps my reprieve was only granted because my health improved and therefore my ability to throw down the iron fist of justice has been restored. Yesterday they colored with markers in peace for almost an hour. Mason was practicing letters and Cole was drawing what Mason calls "scribble scrabble" and making pictures that looked like a serial killer's artwork. But he was having a swell time! And there was only minor screaming situations involved--once during a "scribble scrabble" lesson when Cole was not complying with Mason's demands and once during a minor altercation over the color Blue. Oh, and I turned my back for .0000012 seconds and Mason drew all over the countertop (and I might add it was the forbidden "scribble scrabble.") I could kiss whoever invented washable markers.

The brush fire smoke... OH the Brush Fire Smoke! It's yucky. Stinky, vile, gross, loathesome, and hazardous to one's health. And with mere moments before the days where heat will chase us inside lest we drown in our own perspiration, I would like to spend as much time as possible outside, but the smoke stands in the way. Mother Nature is a Bitch.

The neck... much improved. Had follow up today with the Good Doctor. Apparently I was not in as good shape as I believed, because he found all sorts of problems with me. (I guess it's all relative, I was in so much pain an agony a week ago that the improvement seems miraculous!) He talked me into a repeat round of heat and shock therapy. My reward was a first-class great-like-wow spinal adjustment. Although my father (who is apparently quite against this practice) told me that the Good Doc was going to paralyze me if I let this go on. So with every crrrack I would wiggle my toes... just in case. (Thanks for the paranoia Dad.) The neck still freakin' hurts, which is annoying but at least I can function. I received the go ahead to make my triumphant return to the gym, so long as I do no upper body strength training. Bit of a downer, but I will take what I can get.

The sore throat that won't die... has turned into the sore throat--and cough--that won't die. No congestion, no runny nose, just the sore throat and cough. (I informed the Good Doc of this, he was unimpressed. He think the cold will get me sooner or later. In the meantime I'm popping chewable Vitamin C like it's candy.) I really haven't slept much lately, and two nights ago I coughed and coughed and coughed until I couldn't cough anymore. With all that coughing, you'd think I was disturbing my dear husband's sleep which he so desperately needs to be his Important Self. But nope, he slept like a baby. There's something about when he's sleeping and I'm not that makes me want to smother him with my pillow. Really, it's a miracle he survived me being up at night nursing three babies. Anyway, last night, in my desperation to acquire some sleep, I resorted to narcotics. I have some prescription cough syrup left over from my March Cold (yes, my colds have Monthly Names, there are Monthly, after all). So I dosed myself with that last night and slept like a baby. Only 7 hours, but still quality REM. Score.

And the best part of today? It's Friiiiiiday! Which means two whole days of a two parent household. (Save tomorrow when Rey has to steal away to a Condo Commando meeting for "only an hour." READ: He will be gone for at least 90 minutes, two hours is more likely.) Either way, when the boys come in tomorrow morning at an inhuman, ungodly early hour, they will pick him to jump on and beg for breakfast. Times like this that it's beneficial to be Old and Dull Mommy instead of New and Shiny Daddy.