So we’re leaving town this afternoon (I may as well have just said, “ATTENTION, THIEVES OF ALABAMA! OUR HOUSE WILL BE UNOCCUPIED! THE ALARM CODE IS…”) to go to my parents’ house and celebrate (again) The Birth of The Toddler. Just a thought: could we possibly drag out Alex’s birthday celebration any more than we have? Can you say “only child”? Anyway, things will be slow around BooMama, unless I can get Daddy’s high-fangled dial-up interweb provider to talk to the laptop. I’ll go ahead and tell you – the prospects don’t look good.

Sister and Barry will be there, along with all manner of grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins, and it’ll basically be a contest to see who will be the first to say, “WHEW. I am SO full. Gosh I’m full. I can’t eat another thing. But I will try a piece of that pie.” Last night I talked to Mama, and she was cooking pork tenderloin and turnip greens and sweet potatoes and lima beans and cornbread and thought she might make some potato salad, “but I don’t know if I need two kinds of potatoes. Well, I think I’ll make a little anyway.” So there will be some food.

I’m actually looking forward to the drive because David and I haven’t gotten to talk much this week. I even have a list of five or six things I want to remember to tell him (oh, don’t laugh – my mind and memory went to pot as soon as they pulled that baby out of me, and I need me a list). Between the birthday and the crazy schedules and my constant barking cough that oftens gives way to gagging, there hasn’t been very much Quality Conversation at our house the last few days (I can’t for the life of me imagine why). At one point when David and I were trying to Share Meaningful Information and were interrupted by a) Alex b) the phone and c) my continued efforts to offer up a lung, David said, “Hey! Is it on the blog?” And when he got an affirmative reply, he said, “Okay! I’ll just read it there!” and then raced down the stairs to escape The Wife Who Does All The Talking and Barky Coughing.

Hope y’all have a good weekend. I’ll check in if Daddy’s 28K modem will allow it (oh, it’s nice. It’s reaaaal nice). In the meantime, click around and let me know if you find another blog that you like – I’m always looking for something new and funny. You can start here or here – lots of clicky link goodness at both places.

In the meantime, we’ll be eating lots of cake. And laughing. And I of course will be coughing, because nothing says “Happy 3rd Birthday!” like a mama with her hands braced on the kitchen table, trying to remain upright though her body wants to collapse from the force of the violent hacking.

I am a treasure, aren’t I?

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.

Alex had a big time yesterday – and his daddy and I had as much fun as he did.

Next up? POTTY TRAINING! Yippee!

Seriously, if you have potty trained a little boy, would you tell me – either in the comments or in an email – what worked for you? I am, um, overwhelmed.

But I’m stocked up on Veggie Tales fruit snacks, so I’m also armed for bribery. Lots of cavity-inducing bribery.