Pep Talk, Strep Talk

I haven't blogged much lately beyond the usual mommy posts (obsessively detailing and doting on my child's every move), and it's for a great reason:  Life is good.

Remember how in the movie Mean Girls (don't pretend you didn't watch it 5 or 6 times in college...and maybe last weekend on E!) all the drama happens and it's very exciting, but then at the end they talk about how everything's worked itself out and they can just float?  Well, I'm floating.  I love my husband.  I love my son.  I love my church.  I love my job.  I love my friends.  I love my family.  Float...

Now, in case those last two paragraphs made you green with envy, let me also tell you this:  everything in my life isn't rainbows and kisses.  This year I seem to have become suddenly susceptible to every illness swirling in this West Texas air.  In 2013 I have had the flu, a stomach bug that made me seriously consider never eating again, a possible fractured rib, a dented right big toe nail (bathroom drawer v. big toe), a cold that lasted for 2 agonizing weeks, and most recently Strep throat.

Incidentally, due to all of these illnesses I asked my husband, the physician, if there could be something terribly wrong with my previously functional immune system (like an autoimmune disease...or AIDS), and he diagnosed me with something else! 

Hypochondria.

Anyway, as a part of my journey back toward health, this weekend I took a trip to my friendly Walgreens store to pick up some meds.  I reluctantly purchased some cough drops to soothe my aching throat.  I say reluctantly because I really don't like cough drops.  Mostly because they taste like earwax.

Little did I know the surprise I would find inside (besides the fact that advertising them as "warm apple cider" flavor was an example of grossly false advertising)--each cough drop came wrapped in a little paper covered in motivational phrases.  "A pep talk in every drop," they say.  Here are some examples of the sayings found on the wrappers:

Halls, I'm sorry, but when I'm debating between drooling and swallowing my own spit (because swallowing creates a pain in my tonsils that makes me wince as if someone's hit me), I don't really want to hear about keeping my chin up.  In fact, keeping my chin up hurts my swollen, painful lymph nodes.  But I'm not a mindless complainer!  Here are my suggestions for what you could put on your cough drops instead:

"Being sick sucks."
"At least you're not at work."
"How can such a small person produce so much mucous?! You're a marvel."
"You'll probably feel better tomorrow--I don't think it can get worse than today."
"Allergies are stupid."

You're welcome, Halls.

P. S.  Please make the apple cider cough drops taste like apples.  Or cider.  Or anything but what they taste like now.  Thank you.

12 Months (Otherwise known as 1 year)

12 balloons.  We made it all the way to a year, baby!

In this year you've gone from sitting in our arms as a motionless lump of human to walking all around the house hitting people and furniture with the dog's collar (which you insist on playing with instead of the millions of toys you received at your birthday party). 

In this year you've learned that "yay" means to clap because we're proud of you, and "no" means...well, "no" means that we're probably going to say "no" again when you keep doing whatever you're doing. 

In this year you've gained about 16 pounds!! (No comments on any pounds you may have noticed your mommy and daddy put on, please.)  You would have gained more pounds, but you poop about 13 times per day. 

In this year you've found your toes, found your voice, and found out how fun it is to unroll all the toilet paper when mom and dad aren't looking.

In this year we've played peek-a-boo, hide and seek, and tickle the baby approximately 4027 times.  (And loved it every single time.)

In this year at church you went from sleeping all the way through it to patting the Bible in the nursery, and finally to throwing the Bible all the way down the pew at the nice family who was unfortunate enough to sit next to us. 

In this year you've learned that Dixie is not only man's baby's best friend, but also a four-legged disposal, capable of finishing off any cheerios or vegetables that you are too full to eat.  She is also an expert in cleaning the food from between your toes, behind your knees, and all other places where you inexplicably manage to spill.

In this year you've gone from eating only milk, to jars and jars of baby food, to stealing things off of our plates.  You've found that oatmeal is not only your favorite breakfast food, but also your favorite hair styling pomade.

And whenever this brave new world gets too scary, you've learned that the safest place for you is to run back into our arms.

You've come a long way, baby, and we can't wait to see what you do next.  Happy eleventh, big boy. 

 

364

We've watched our baby grow now for 364 days, and what a miracle it has been to watch that boy learn and love.

As tonight wanes on, I find myself circling around the same thoughts: 

How strange that on this day last year I hadn't met my boy yet, never looked into his blue eyes...

How odd that I had no idea how strongly this child would take hold of my heart...

But mostly I wonder: How did I get so lucky?  How did I get so lucky?

Being Carter's mama has been the greatest adventure of my lifetime, and one that I continually thank God for allowing me to experience.  I was made to be a mother; there are few things in this life that I know with such certainty as that fact.  It is in my bones, my blood, my DNA--the instructions passed down through generations of mothers before me, and shown to me daily by my mother.  I know it with the same certainty and unshakable faith that tell me my Redeemer lives. 

Carter, I love you deeply, fiercely, with wonder, with amazement, in spite of your bad days, and ever more on your good days.  I love you.  I love you.  I love you. 

I pray tonight that you will always know this fact as steadfastly as I know that I was put on this earth to be your mama. 

Save the...oh, great.

Carter's 1st birthday is only 9 days away!  (How did this happen?)

Being the overly incredibly attentive and indulgent completely in-control mom that I am, I planned a huge bash for Carter and his 50 closest friends.  I even made cute invitations, painstakingly addressed them by hand, and mailed them out.

Can anyone spot what I forgot to put on the invitation...?

That's right, the date of the party.  When did I realize this grievous mistake?  Not until I had mailed out every invitation and one of the invitees texted me.  Then I went into damage control mode: The party is on September 7th, everybody (the group text read).  I couldn't put it on the invitations because it didn't start with "C!"

Haha...ha........ha.

Mom fail.