I am posting this a day late because I have (1) a chest cold and in addition (2) a nasty infection, which is a good enough excuse for me for blowing off personal goals.
Including grain-free and sugar-free dieting and working out every single day.
This week Moose was sick. Don’t worry: no fever, just a croupy cold that kept him up at night a lot and made him a grumpy little munchkin, so I stayed home with him one day and we made some PB&J bars. I hadn’t made them in AGES and apparently that’s an issue, because Pete was pretty mad when they were all gone. I guess we’ll be making them on the regular again from here on out.
Because of the illness afoot, we kept this batch to us at home. And holy moly, but is baking with Linus a million times different than with Pete. Toddler Pete liked to sample ingredients POLITELY and poured carefully and never made a mess, he waited nicely for me to clean up as we went and measure out ingredients. Linus? If baking with Pete was like listening to well orchestrated Mozart, then Linus is death metal. Counters covered in crap, we were each a mess (I had flour. IN MY HAIR. LIKE IN THE MOVIES.). Like I said, I usually I try to clean up as I go, but he was such a tornado that I just had to drop things as I went and keep things moving at a brisk pace, lest he stick his face in the mixing bowl and just start eating from there. He snatched up every measuring cup after I was finished with it, and licked it clean. In the end, I ended up just giving him a healthy scoop of the dough from my wooden spoon, then desperately attempted to shove the rest of the dough in the pan before he finished it and attempted to attack the pan for more bites.
We didn’t even USE a whisk, you guys, I just turned around at one point and there he was holding it with that creepy look on his face, licking off bits he somehow scraped from the empty bowl. Jesus. Scariest baking assistant ever.
So anyway, other than baking he spent the bulk of his time flailing and crying about nothing in particular, to be honest. Maybe we didn’t let him throw Legos at his brother, or gave him the wrong cheese crackers (even though he pointed at those specific cheese crackers when making his selection). Tears and damnation and sads, all over the damned place, all thanks to a bad case of croup and your usual toddler brain at work.
That is, until Saturday. When we told him we were celebrating the best day of the year: Ice Cream for Breakfast day.
A local ice cream chain goes all out for this “holiday”, serving waffle sundaes, cereal shakes, and best of all: donut ice-cream sandwiches. Which both of the boys got, then devoured (with some help from the adults), and then we visited the library and headed back home for the day.
Note: you can try to ignore a fat Moose that wants to cuddle, but you will ultimately fail.
(Also to note: that is his cheese-cracker cup, his favorite cup, an old mini-Oreo cup I bought to make the holiday chocolate-covered Oreos and totally meant to recycle, but he stole it before I could, and ONLY CHEESE CRACKERS CAN TOUCH THE INSIDE OF THIS PRECIOUS CUP, OR FEAR THE WRATH OF LINUS.)
The rest of the day was spent getting a head start on Valentines and getting a picture of Peter, who never seems to be around when I have my camera handy. Actually, Linus took this one, at lunch, then dropped my camera on the ground. Ouch. Luckily she’s a lusty lady and she survived with nary a scratch.
Sunday I took Pete along for a fun adventure, a little side trip before hitting up a friend’s birthday party – Urgent Care, oh yeaaaaaah, baby. My very-old-now crown was starting to bug me on Friday, and by Sunday the entire side of my face was swollen and I couldn’t touch that tooth for fear of passing out from the pain. Yaaaaaay, infection/abscess time. I got a nice strong antibiotic and we were on our way. While the doctor checked me out, Pete asked us how to spell all sorts of Star Wars terms so he could include them in the birthday card. Way to stay busy, my son.
We were out of Urgent Care and on our way in a flash, so we didn’t miss any of the party. WOOT. Pete’s buddies Francis and Quinn all ran amok in the bowling alley and a good time was had by all, including me. Erin looked at my face when we arrived and immediately handed me a beer. She’s a solid friend to have in times of grotesque facial swelling.
I can never take enough pictures of Mr. Jimmers. He and Linus are the same age (born on the same day, same hospital, just down the hall from each other!) and that little dude is a beast and sneaky little naughty-pants. I could eat him up.
Okay guys that’s all for this week – everyone pray for a normal face in a few days so I have the ability to eat ALL THE GODDAMNED CANDIES by Sunday. Will check in then.