but in my defense, y’all don’t get to hardly ever enjoy my husband’s randomness since he kind of disappeared from blogland.
I’m fine with being blamed for what happens when I’m behind the clicking end of the camera though…
See this? Is just normal weirdness.
Itty Bit hanging out with Cousin A (who really needs an appropriate blog name… the guy is an absolute crack-up… and pretty darn good with kids.)
Please ignore Itty Bit’s freaky foot (Remember? the doc says is “perfectly normal”… bite me), and the fact that he is apparently shooting at me. “Pew pew pew” bullet noises aimed at anyone are strictly verboten. Booger.
All was copacetic during our beaut of a 72 degree day… until this face:
While you would be forgiven for thinking I meant Cousin A’s “I think I just put my hand in poop” face, it is really poor Itty Bit’s. The morning cough he’d been fighting for three weeks turned into a daylong “cough until you throw up” adventure.
So this morning it was off to the doctor. Who took one listen and diagnosed croup. Then asked if we wanted a Whooping Cough test.
So I asked him what the test entailed.
And he flinched.
(trust me… if the doc flinches, just say no).
Then he said something about “into the nasal cavity” and I had visions of holding down a screaming/coughing/throwing up Itty Bit. The Good Mommy said, “well, you’re pretty sure about that croup thing, right?”
And this should tell you how awesomesauce Children’s Hospital is. Because he was TICKED that this place didn’t have Mickey Mouse cough-cover-thingies. Can you tell?
So we’re home today… watching superhero movies and trying to survive Legos on the floor.
And this shot is coincidentally why the “pew pew pew” shooting isn’t allowed in the house:
But really, the worst thing about today was going through the pictures from this weekend. My sister was visiting, and shockingly… I have no pictures of her face.
This might be because I was severely traumatized by what her appendages were doing…
Apparently our grandmother can grow some kick-butt spiders. As in, “so that’s what happened to Fifi!”. And my insane sister t-t-t-touchedddddd the freaky things. Not once. Twice.
This one courtesy of my parents’ house. And is one time I am NOT grateful for the resolution on my phone! Would you believe my mother was on her way to squish it and my sister chased her off?
Umm yeah. This was on our bookshelf as little kids.
All would have been lost if not for this bit of welcome mail:
And honey, don’t worry about the cropped out part. It said “TO RACHEL”, it didn’t mention Mr. Daddy…
Tiffany (aka Saint Poopicus) sent us an amazing care package.
One item. One guess.
And one guess who got to it first?
And this is where I’ve failed as a mother.
The kiddo actually left enough to be licked in the bowl.
(Don’t ask me how I know. Just don’t).
Thank you Tiffany & Co! I have the best blog friends!
And in other news… I had a bummer experience with a company. So I kinda asked them about their customer service.
They may have sent four times the number of replacements.
Which (duh) spells GIVEAWAY, right? :)
And even though my husband is till being terribly absent from all things bloggy… just to prove that my genes aren’t ENTIRELY responsible for the therapy Itty Bit is sure to need:
You’re welcome honey.
This is what life has been doing to us lately. But you just have to laugh.
What craziness has been going on in your lives?