We have so few pictures of the two of us, I wanted to share this one from today! Do you think he looks like me? Most people say he looks like Daniel, but I think he is coming around to his mama's side of the family!

Ahem.

I recently watched a special on HBO (Yes, we get that raunchy channel. We like it for the articles.) called "I have Tourette's, but Tourette's doesn't have me." It was a very good documentary about children struggling with this disorder. One of the kids equated his tics with "trying to hold in a sneeze, or a cough."

I thought that line was funny, because it IS hard to hold in a sneeze. But a cough? Why would one hold it in? And is it difficult to suppress a cough?

Well, I found out. As you can see, it is in the wee hours of the morn'. I was lying in bed just now, sound asleep, when something tickled my throat. (Inside my throat. It wasn't Daniel with a feather or something.)

I started coughing violently, and pretty soon I was convulsing with the sheer effort of suppressing this cough spasm. I went from sound asleep to painful, breath-holding, lung-crushing, cough smothering in one second. I was trying not to wake Daniel, so I rolled dramatically out of bed and stumbled out into the hallway. There, I suppressed some more because I didn't want to wake Dillon. My eardrums were about to explode from the pressure. My eyes were watering.

And my THROAT was TICKLING.

So here I am, at the other end of the house. In front of the computer. I have been coughing freely now for about 30 minutes, thank goodness, but I wonder if I will ever get to go back to bed.

Ohhhh-kay. I get it. Tics are like coughing. Lesson learned. God bless those poor children with Tourette's!

Question

If someone you know is pregnant, and they have an aversion to beef, so you make them some lasagne with no beef in it and drive it 200 miles to their house, and they never eat it, and you know it is getting freezer burn in their freezer, do you say something about it, or just let it go?

This is purely hypothetical.

Worry wart

I believe that most things that you worry about never happen. Because of that, I try to worry about everything.

For instance, Dillon was quite the unhappy baby last week. Totally different from my little smiley guy (Guy Smiley? Was that on a TV show??)

I worried that someone had come and switched babies one night while we all slept. I worried that there was a neurological problem. I worried that there was a developmental problem. I watched him like a hawk. He cried when he was put down. He cried when he was held. He cried when he was supposed to be sleeping. I worried that I wasn't going to like this new baby as much as my old baby.

Well, we can all breathe a sigh of relief. I get my old baby back! We just have to wait for the antibiotics to take care of the severe ear infections, first!

So, like every other mother, I guess I need to be worrying about regular, old illnesses, too. Then maybe we won't have them!

The following preview has been approved for all studio audiences

We borrowed something from a friend today, to see if we like it and want one of our own. It is sort of a gadget, and we all know how Daniel is about his gadgets.

These are some of the things that it can do:

1) It is a labelmaker. Walk by an item, and it instantly lets you know the name of the item in a perky voice: "Maybox!!!" "Bass-a-bo game!"

2) It is an announcer. If Dillon is crying, it lets me know quickly that the baby is crying. "Beebee cwy!"

3) It is Tux's personal food dispenser. Cereal, cheese, bits of corndog. Yeah, this is heaven for Tux.

4) It is a teacher. "Beebee! Yook at da score!" (Baby, look at the squirrel!)

5) It is a housekeeper. All of my trash cans are closed and he continuously brings me miniscule scraps of paper that have probably been on the floor for two months.

6) It is my boss and time manager. "Manna! Get down!" That means it is time to get off the computer and do something else. Like crush cereal into tiny bits and fling it on the floor for Tux!

Yeah, I guess we'll take one. We only have a year or so to wait, and we will have a toddler of our own! Thanks for the preview, Michelle!

Spring cleaning

Summer cleaning? I don't know. It is almost 100 degrees outside, so I'll go with "Summer Cleaning."

I have the itch. I cleaned out Dillon's closet today. My mother in-law sent me home with a box of Space Bags and I put them to good use. Now his old clothes are sucked into a brick-hard sculpture of plastic that weighs about 6 times more than you would think.

Next, I am tackling my own closet. Boxing up sweaters and my "fat pants." HA! I have never gotten to box them up before!

I think the kitchen would be a good place to work next. The smorgasbord of tubs and pots and lids is calling me, not to mention the disarray of my "pantry." ("Pantry" is in quotes because I like to call it that, but really it is just a cabinet. We have no formal "pantry." When our house was built, shopping in bulk wasn't even considered, and soup didn't come in a can. You made it from stuff in your garden.)

Anyway, all this thinking about cleaning makes my palms itch. I love it! I wish I had more time in the day to clean and organize! What do YOU want to organize???

I went and saw my friend in the hospital today. She has had her fourth baby boy!

I suppose by the fourth delivery, you pretty much have it down. Her hair was perfect. Her makeup was flawless. She pushed for a few minutes while the doctor watched a NASCAR race on the television at her feet.

And then he was here - baby number four!

But no matter how many times you go through it, it is still amazing. It is still a miracle. This tiny person, with his squinty eyes and man-hands, is NEW. His skin is so soft - untouched yet by the harshness of the world. His tiny voice trills from his throat, and is so loud in his mother's heart. She has waited her whole life for him. And he is here!

Welcome to the world, baby boy.

TMI

Warning: Do not read this post unless you want to know very intimate facts about me. Like the fact that I have two boobs.

You get a lot of free stuff when you become parents. Formula samples, diapers in the mail, tons of coupons, paper bibs, and tiny samples of baby lotions that smell like a meadow. (The meadows around here smell like cow poop, but somewhere they smell fresh and herbal, apparently.)

With something unrelated that I bought, I got a free sample of Gerber Breast Therapy Gel Packs. This is a small sticky disk that you put on your booby in order to provide it some relief from daily abuse. It didn't seem to make much sense to me, but I set it aside and thought I would use it some day when I was feeling particularly pitiful.

Well, that day came yesterday. I came across the sample, and decided to give it a try. It couldn't hurt, right?

Imagine my surprise when I opened the package and removed one (1) gel pack. I pulled the front of my shirt away from my chest and counted.

Yep. Still two boobies.

One gel pack.

Now that's not fair! How could I choose between them? They are both equally abused and pitiful. The sample went into the trash, and no one got any therapy. So there!

Rude awakening

Daniel let me mow the front yard today. ("Let" makes it sound like he was reluctant to hand over the duty. He wasn't, but he didn't "make" me. I am at a loss here, with the English language.)

Anyway, it was a nice day, so I puttered around the yard, making sure to cut all the weeds about the same height. I even mowed on a diagonal, so that if you drove by, you would suddenly think you were near a country club or major league ball field.

All this is to say that I think today is the first time in over a year that I have broken a serious sweat. My lungs were heaving. My muscles were shaking. My face was red. Dust coated my throat. I signaled to Daniel that I needed water. He mosied (how do you SPELL that?) inside and came out precious minutes later with a thermos of ice water.

When I was finished, I sat on the tailgate and gulped water. My stomach started to hurt. My vision was tunneling.

I came inside to relax, and after three hours, dinner, and a hot bath, I feel better. Hm. Maybe next week I will feel well enough to do the back yard.

Oh, THAT explains it!

And I am sure the fish and loaves have a natural explanation, too.

Idol Thoughts

I know this topic is worn slap out on many blogs, but I gotta let you know my musings for this week. Keep in mind that we TiVo, so I just watched Tuesday's Idol this morning and I don't know who got booted last night.

1. What the hey is Randy wearing? Also, I think he maxed out on saying "Yo, yo!" Does he know people really don't say that much anymore?

2. Paula stuttered just about every time she talked, but that is nothing new.

3. Keith Urban is from AUSTRALIA. Not ALABAMA. His songs don't qualify as country the way that I think of country music, but no one asked me.

4. Kellie Pickler gets on my nerves. Seriously. If she would just sing, and not ever, ever talk, she might do better.

5. Chris had some very, very dark eyebrows this week. Suspiciously dark.

6. Bucky is a country guy, and he picked THAT SONG? It wasn't even originally recorded as a country song!

Mmmkay. I'm gonna go watch last night's episode real quick. I think it would be a good week to say bye to Bucky. But, again, no one asked me, and you can't vote when you watch the show two days late.

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Addendum: Are you KIDDING me??? I can't believe she got cut!!!

Also, has Ace ever tucked his whole shirttail in?

Daniel's dog Bo is getting a new home. We aren't sure where, we just know it isn't going to be here much longer.

He is very rowdy and playful, and we don't have the time to devote to him. He needs someone to run and play with, and who loves him even when he eats the trim off of their house. We don't fit into that category.

This morning, I woke up early, showered, fixed my hair, and got dressed up. Slacks and a nice blouse. I dressed Dillon in some cute dinosaur clothes. I straightened up the house. Why, you ask? Because someone was coming to see if they wanted Bo. It was like a job interview. I wanted to make a good impression. I guess I was trying to show that Bo is such an easy, great dog, that I can do all manner of domestic duties with nary a thought to his behavior.

When Chris went into the backyard to see him, Bo acted like no one EVER went back there to play with him. (Imagine that!) He raced through the yard, slinging slobber and tearing up what grass is left. He grabbed a four foot branch as thick as my arm and ran around with that in his mouth. He threw it down, and flopped onto his back, and began intimately cleaning his nether region.

GREAT FIRST IMPRESSION.

Chris said, "Lemme go home and think about it, and I'll call you."

Crushed, I showed him to the door. Don't call me, I'll call you. Rejected after I burped on our first date. Turned down after I showed my pantyhose run in the job interview.

I feel like Meredith. "Pick Bo. Choose Bo. Love Bo."

So call me, Chris! Come back and visit. Next time I'll sedate him. The dog, not Chris! Silly readers...