Add this to my list of guilty pleasures: Finley just can't get enough of me. Sometimes when Tim is holding him and he's all upset, I'll come and get him and he calms right down and cuddles in. Considering that during the day he's sometimes crabby even when I do pick him up (during the designated crabby hour of the day, between 4 and 5 PM), I think I can enjoy that at least sometimes, he just wants the Momma.
I feel guilty because I worry it makes Tim feel like he's not as good at comforting the boy, but that's just not true. He's just got a mommy addiction, and I am the fix.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Happy HallowEHehNEEEEEHHHHHHghehpleh
I suck at Halloween. When we tried to go as Rogue and Ice man, I ended up being "girl in gloves with Stacy London hair" and Tim was "Mr. Sparkleface." He actually got laughed at at the Albertson's. And no kids showed up to our house that year. It was super lame.
Last Halloween I had morning sickness. 'Nuf said.
And we never get invited to Halloween parties, so we have no excuse but to stay home trapped by all the stupid kids who might come for candy, but never actually show up, and watch our jack-o-lanterns begin to rot on the porch.
I had all but given up celebrating this year. I was thinking if Tim's work had a party we'd just put on some fake mustaches and call it good. And then, lo and behold, I was invited to a Halloween party. I was so excited. And when I got sick (again) earlier in the week, I went right to the doctor for antibiotics hoping I'd be clean in a few days. And so with the hope of someone who is desperate to feel better, I spent yesterday pretending not to be sick anymore and finding THE PERFECT COSTUMES for our little family. For once, I'd had a good idea.
So we purchased the gear, grabbed the makings of some Halloween mini-cupcakes, and went to bed. Of course, I wake up today feeling like total garbage and sounding like my larynx had been run over by one of those dang Christmas truck parades that honk "jingle bells" until the spectators are deaf. Still hoping to fake it, I went to about an hour of Super Saturday with my mom, after which we had to drive home so I could take a five hour nap. And Tim and Finley are sick too.
Worse yet, we bought all the costume stuff at Target, so if Tim's work doesn't have a party, we can only return it for a gift card. They have the worst return policy. They wouldn't even let me return the effing prenatal yoga video I was doing when my water broke at 17 weeks. Brigands.
So as of now, we're all dressed up with someplace to go but no energy to do it and too much contagion guilt to risk getting anyone else sick by going anyway. And I can't even sleep it off because I'm too busy hacking up my lungs and several other organs. F my life.
Last Halloween I had morning sickness. 'Nuf said.
And we never get invited to Halloween parties, so we have no excuse but to stay home trapped by all the stupid kids who might come for candy, but never actually show up, and watch our jack-o-lanterns begin to rot on the porch.
I had all but given up celebrating this year. I was thinking if Tim's work had a party we'd just put on some fake mustaches and call it good. And then, lo and behold, I was invited to a Halloween party. I was so excited. And when I got sick (again) earlier in the week, I went right to the doctor for antibiotics hoping I'd be clean in a few days. And so with the hope of someone who is desperate to feel better, I spent yesterday pretending not to be sick anymore and finding THE PERFECT COSTUMES for our little family. For once, I'd had a good idea.
So we purchased the gear, grabbed the makings of some Halloween mini-cupcakes, and went to bed. Of course, I wake up today feeling like total garbage and sounding like my larynx had been run over by one of those dang Christmas truck parades that honk "jingle bells" until the spectators are deaf. Still hoping to fake it, I went to about an hour of Super Saturday with my mom, after which we had to drive home so I could take a five hour nap. And Tim and Finley are sick too.
Worse yet, we bought all the costume stuff at Target, so if Tim's work doesn't have a party, we can only return it for a gift card. They have the worst return policy. They wouldn't even let me return the effing prenatal yoga video I was doing when my water broke at 17 weeks. Brigands.
So as of now, we're all dressed up with someplace to go but no energy to do it and too much contagion guilt to risk getting anyone else sick by going anyway. And I can't even sleep it off because I'm too busy hacking up my lungs and several other organs. F my life.
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