Balloons make everything better, it would seem. At least for Alex. Not for me, as I am still traumatized by An Unfortunate Balloon Incident with a clown at a rodeo when I was 4.

Alex and his cousin, Melissa – I don’t think they could adore each other any more than they do. Alex loves Melissa because she includes him in everything. Melissa loves Alex because when she includes him in everything, he does whatever she asks him to do. It works out beautifully for all.

Chips = GOOOOOOD. Hey Lea Margaret – does the shirt look familiar? Thanks again for it – I think it is so cute.

Nighty-night after lots of birthday fun. And a piano recital, of course.

We’re back home.

I’m in the throes of a two-way withdrawal: 1) I didn’t get to write anything all weekend and 2) I didn’t get to read anything all weekend. For me, the latter has been way worse than the former, so give me a few minutes to get Alex down for a nap, catch up on my reading, and transfer all our pictures to the computer. Hopefully by then I’ll have something coherent to say.

And just one more thing. If you’re still hanging on to a dial-up modem because you think it doesn’t make good sense for you to spend extra money on DSL or cable because you’re not on the internet all that much? FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLY AND FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR RELATIVES’ SANITY, get rid of the dial-up and join us, won’t you, in the 21st century. It’s lovely here.

I got tickled yesterday when I looked in Mama and Daddy’s den and saw David and Barry with their laptops open, no doubt offering prayers to God that He would somehow mercifully intercede and miraculously create a wireless connection. They even called around town to look for wi-fi hotspots, but apparently Meridian isn’t on board with that yet. I told Barry that we could ride around with our laptops on and see if we could jack someone else’s connection, but I guess that wouldn’t have been very “ethical” or “appropriate,” not to mention “legal.”

We had a great time – but it is nice to be back in the land of the high-speed wireless connection.

More updates soon.

I don’t have anything to say, really, except that I do believe the antibiotics have stolen my funny.

So there you have it.

But do go read about Finslippy’s trip to the gym.

And read SJ’s take on motherhood and baby #2.

Now that I’ve provided y’all with some homework, I’m off to bed. We’ll have a short reading quiz Friday, so take lots of notes.

See y’all tomorrow here at the House of Excitement, where every moment is a veritable carnival-o-fun.

whoo hoo.

This letter to the editor was in my hometown paper this morning.

Parents should seize teachable moments

Recently, while sitting in a doctor’s waiting room, I noticed a mother and two restless, preschool-age children.

She tried to interest them in some magazines to no avail. She should have brought their own storybooks, or some simple toys. She could have used that time to teach them how to count or to say the alphabet or to recite nursery rhymes or Bible verses. [emphasis mine]

Parents let too many teachable moments slide by, lost to eternity. How sad!

Nina M.

Decatur

Ahem. A-HEM. Well.

There’s just not much more I can add to that.

I know that I personally never feel more encouraged as a parent than when I face, you know, JUDGMENT FROM A COMPLETE STRANGER. I mean, that frazzled mama might have been up all night with two sick babies (or sick as a dog herself), at which point I doubt flashcards were at the top of her to-do list.

And I certainly don’t want to bash the woman who wrote the letter – she was just speaking her mind, as she is completely entitled to do – but, um, gosh. Wow.

I realize that I seem to be the only person on this blog – at least this week, when my Mississippi friends are on Spring Break – who cares one iota about American Idol, but it is SERIOUS BUSINESS, people.

It may take me a long time to get over the fact that not one – NOT ONE – of my alleged friends commented after my hastily written painstakingly crafted AI post from Tuesday night (Et tu, Bubba? Et tu, Daph?). I am comforted knowing that EK and T-Riels will be back from their internetless vacations by next Tuesday night, and EK can ramble on once more about how wonderful Kevin Corvais is (not).

So I need to know the following: 1) Daph’s evaluation of Daughtry 2) Bubba’s evaluation of McPhever and C) if Merritt and Wendi have watched at all. At least keep me up to speed, because if y’all continue this type of AI abandonment you may have to give up your titles of B/F/F. That’s harsh, I know – but there must be consequences for this type of callous commenting behavior. The Bible tells me so. :-) Sister hasn’t even posted her usual *YAWN* comment with a smiley face so that we’re all perfectly clear that she neither watches nor cares, and while I know the earth won’t quit spinning on its axis, we had a nice little AI tradition in the works.

It’s all just RURNED. RURNED!

Anyhoo, David and I called two of the bottom three (Ace and Lisa), but we missed on the person who was voted out: Melissa McGhee. It’s a fair enough result, I think – she was not long for the Idol world.

And just because I adore them, I wanted to post the clips of Taylor’s and Katharine’s performances, but apparently the copyright police have clamped down on the folks over at You Tube, so there’s yet another reason why every person in America should have a TiVo. Or two.

Love y’all.

BooMama – OUT.

About three days ago I started to cough. And really, “cough” doesn’t do it justice. It’s been more like a barking wretch. Last night I woke up in such a fit of manic coughing that I wondered if I was going to throw up, and then that just seemed silly, because who would do such a thing when all they have is “drainage”?

So to the doctor, yes. Excellent idea.

It should be no surprise at this point, as it is par for the BooMama course, that the doctor diagnosed me with a sinus infection. That would be sinus infection #962, if you’re keeping score at home, and you should be if you’re not, because they’re exceptional, my sinuses, capable of storing and replicating all manner of bacteria-laden particles. What can I say? It’s a gift.

Two prescriptions later, I headed home, with Alex in the backseat repeating, “Mama! You got a BAAAAD cough!” six or fifty-two times. Observant young lad, isn’t he?

Now typically I try not to take antibiotics if I can possibly help it, because I don’t like how they make me feel and because I’m always scared some mutant bacterial strain will wreak havoc on the world and I’ll be immune to the one drug that cures it. But in this case, well, it seems to me that my options are either 1) antibiotics, 2) pneumonia, or 3) finally coughing up those pesky lungs, at which point I’m guessing that the whole sinus infection thing would seem pretty inconsequential. Antibiotics it is.

So I have taken my medicine like a good little girl – and I took it with food, just like the instructions said – but I am so nauseated – soooo nauseated – that I involuntarily make this low, rumbling, and quite lengthy gurgling noise about once every five minutes, like I’m an elderly, hoarse tomcat trying to get out just one more “meow” before I finally kick it for the ninth time.

And on that note, I bid you a fond, albeit raspy, goodnight.