I am sick.

I hate being sick.

I have what are probably unhealthy amounts of cold medicine in me right now, yet I still cannot breath. I would like to know exactly what snot is, and how the body can produce it so quickly.

And Nyquil makes me jittery, otherwise I'd down some of that.

Blech.

I promise I will write something interesting soon... instead of continuing to just post pictures with the spectacular new camera I have... but this one was too good NOT to post!!! Sadly, the white sunglasses (which are the same glasses I'm wearing in the new profile picture to the left) are now broken, which makes me sad because they were just as fabulous (if not more so) as the new camera. Perhaps Target will have another pair...

Due to circumstances beyond her control, my dear friend Teresa Paulina, who reads and comments here regularly, has had to lock-down her blog.  If you ever click on her link to the left to read what she's up to, and still wish to do so, send me an e-mail.  I will forward it to her to let her know to add you to her 'safe' list.

 

What is it with crazy people?

First time out...

I have a new toy...

Yeah, baby!!

The First Masterpiece

"My Second Day"

Multi-colored stripes afixed to craft paper with glue

8 1/2" x 11"

on loan from the artist

I have a secret. Maybe not so much of a secret, because I think I included it in the 100 Things About Me post that's buried in the archives, but in case you don't remember, here it is -

I'm an opera snob. Sure, my iPod is loaded with alternative and indie rock, electronic and Brit Pop and Eighties stuff that makes my husband cringe... but underneath it all, the opera and Classical music still has my heart. Mozart and Beethoven, of course. And Chopin and Rachmaninoff. Yo Yo Ma makes me swoon.

It's my mother's fault. She planted the seed, with all the record albums she bought back when Columbia House was actually a record club. She was so careful to slice the cellophane wrapper open along the opening of the album sleeve, so she could slide the album out and listen to it before deciding whether or not to buy it. Her record collection was boundless and it fascinated me.

Berea College may not have been the place to go for a music degree, but the professors were passionate about what they did (most of them, at least). I heard an opera from start to finish for the first time, and I was in love. Carmen. The Marriage of Figaro. Turandot. It's true, when it comes to opera, you either love it or hate it.



The angels surely must be rejoicing, to have this incredible voice now in their choir.

Let the dancing in the streets begin

Are you sitting down?

You really ought to be sitting down when you read this, because what I'm about to say might come as a great shock.

My son...

... is using the potty. I don't mean he's using it right this moment, but he's actually using it. And not only is he now using it, sometimes he's even going with any prompting from mommy or daddy. It's like a miracle, I tell you.

{insert trumpet fanfare here}

The husband called the pediatrician's office at the beginning of August, when we were at the ends of our ropes (Well, I was at the end of my rope. I'm not sure the husband was at the end of his rope quite yet, but let's not talk about that.). The nurse at the pediatrician's office told us that during the day, he should be in regular underwear. Keep taking him to the potty at regular intervals, but make the focus for him keeping his pants dry, not putting the ... stuff in the potty. If he has an accident, make him help clean it up. After just a little over three weeks using this approach, he goes to the bathroom now without a fuss; no more dragging him in kicking and screaming. For about the last week he's gone mostly on his own, with no prompting from either mommy or daddy, and he hasn't had an accident for two days now.

Perhaps I'm biased, but there's nothing cuter than my son in a pair of tighty-whiteys. I'd post a picture of it here, but there are many things about doing that that don't seem prudent.

I don't know if it's this new approach, or if he finally decided that he'd tortured mommy and daddy long enough, or maybe a combination of both things. I don't really care, to be honest. I'm just giddy that we are finally on the downside of all of this crap (pardon the pun).

Of course, though, with all good things must come some... not so good. Along with the glory of discovering that he can go to the potty, he's also discovered the glory of his... equipment, let's say. I know, I KNOW!! This is completely natural. All children do it, it's not a big deal, his fascination with having his hand on it every five seconds, pulling it this way and that will, eventually, end. I promise I'm being a good mommy. I'm letting him explore and discover. I'm not smacking his hand away or telling him to stop.

But the voice inside my head really just wants to scream, 'You're going to twist it off it if you don't LEAVE IT ALONE!!'