Friday Flu-fun

Yep, I b home with some sort of bug flu-like thingy (Mrs. Tool-time, STOP apologizing!) and even though I feel rather poo-full, I am happy to have a day off.

So, yeah. Day 16 and I’m still blogging away. There’s a whole group over at NaBloPoMo for people who can’t come up with topics to write about. (Jerry Seinfeld voice) “Who ARE these people?” I could do this for months on end (and look out, I just might!) without running out of things to say. BUT! Are they things anyone wants to read? Who knows?

When Lauren and I first started blogging, we were pretty much the only ones who read each other’s words. I always said that even if no one read what I wrote, I’d still write because that’s who I am. From little up, words bring me alive. I was the dorky kid who carried home 8,000 books from the library intending to read each one (yes, all in the space of two weeks. Yeah, that happened.) Still now, I am always writing and/or reading in one way or another. And 100 years from now, I’ll be blogging in BloPoFroBe (blog posting from beyond). Tee hee

I’ve mentioned Dooce (aka Heather Armstrong) on here as one of the best writers out there on the Internets. This paragraph, from one of her recent posts, leaves me in awe of her ability to create a picture with words. She writes often about her daughter, Leta, and this one made me smile, if only for the humor she injects.

Oh, to have the mad skillz Heather has. But I don’t so you must settle for me in all my goofy, woo-woo, political ranting and Lauren missing ways.

It’s been almost two years since we discontinued occupational therapy for Leta’s gross motor skill development, and since then she has shown remarkable progress. Her gait is strong and mostly balanced, give or take a few stumbles here, a wobble there, but that has nothing to do with her development and everything to do with the vodka.

(snip)

Yesterday morning I forced her to walk down the stairs alone, and when we both got to the bottom she was so exhausted from complaining about it that she said, “I need to lie down on you, Mama.” Recounting this makes it seem a lot weirder than it actually was, but I got down on my back right there on the floor, pulled her into a snuggling position on top of me, her head tucked under my chin, and we lay there together while she regained composure. Three minutes later she stood up and said, “I’m okay.” I imagine that this will become more complicated, say, when she’s in college and is frustrated about her Calculus homework, and she’s lying there on top of me on the floor of the lobby of her dormitory.

(I’m not a mom but I absolutely GET the part about laying down right there. I bet you all do, too.)