The baby is 10 months old! Wow, this has been the fastest year of my life. I'm already starting to think about what I should do for her birthday bash. I'm hoping we can have a great big backyard barbeque because a) that's the only kind of entertaining we're good at and b) that's the only kind of entertaining we're good at.
And our backyard is nice and large, so we can break out the lawn chairs, turn the kids and dogs loose, and watch from the deck as all hell breaks loose. Add a few streamers and you've got a good time.
Canon left on Friday for a job on the other side of the state. That left me in charge of Lucy, Murphy and Em for 48 hours.
I survived Girls' Weekend by satisfying my base urge to purchase mass quantities of consumer goods. I stocked up on such luxuries as formula, diapers, and and an ankle-length wrap to hide my day-glo white legs during swimming suit season. I also bought dental floss and Tums just because I can't get enough flossing or calcium these days; an odd by-product of pregnancy, I guess.
Either I wasn't really sick on Saturday night, or I have some difficulties interpreting non-digital thermometers. I don't know why I didn't just think to use one of the four or five digital ones we got as baby gifts and hospital favors (Hey, the nurse said clean out the bassinet drawer, so I took her up on it) but I didn't, and the uncooperative environment under my tongue only raised the mercury to 96 degress. And isn't that close to clinically dead or something? But I wasn't dead, I was just suffering. Sweating and headachy and dizzy-sick. Luckily Em cooperated and went to bed easily. As soon as she was sleeping I crashed myself. Then I woke up at 4 a.m. feeling normal. Canon came home around one that afternoon, and Girls' Weekend was officially over. Somehow I lived to tell the tale.
And so did Em, considering she choked twice this weekend. The second time I had to get her out of the high chair, turn her upside down and tap her on the back. She just loves stuffing her mouth full and so far my repeated safety lectures have gone in one ear and right out the other. Kids! Luckily it wasn't that bad, and she spit up right away. Is it wrong that the only thing going through my head at that moment was to hold her over the high chair tray? The scary part hit me later, but in the moment all I could think about was not letting her throw up all over the floor. (We were at someone else's house.)
And now it's Tuesday and another week is flying past. Time to get my shiny red pedicured toes to bed.