I believe that The Age Thing has finally caught up to me.
Last night, I hauled two pillows and a blanket out to the sofa, because MY WORD! at the heartburn and the stomach ache. As much as I’d like to say, “Oh! The stomach bug broke through its cocoon of ALL GONE and flew back out into our house; I fell victim,” I simply can’t. What I can say is that it’s become abundantly evident that I can no longer eat pizza like I’m a fraternity boy on the cross country team.
No matter. With all the burning and gut aching, the only place that I wanted to be last night was right on my sofa, like I was an eight year old girl. And then I wanted to call my mom and say, “Could you bring me a 7-Up, please? And could you rub my head a little?”
I think the night might have gone alright, if Cat 1 had been released into the wild like our hearts have told us to do fourteen million times. Because once I was all tucked in, with that giant fuzzy blanket scrunched up to my chin, Cat 1 waltzed into the dark living room and whispered, “Oh! THERE you are!” And then she proceeded to wrap herself around my neck like the expensive fur scarf she pretends to be while I’m sleeping. Of course, it took her a sweet forever to find me, and she told me why.
“I was looking for you, but then I decided CAT FOOD! And I had two bites. And then I felt a hairball coming on, and SWEET HEAVEN ALMIGHTY! I barely made it to the rug before I hurled that thing out like a rocket shot. I was all, ‘I’m not gonna make the rug!’ And you know how I HATE hacking a hairball onto the hardwood. But then I did get to the rug, just in time, and all I can say is WHEW!” And with that said, she wrapped herself around my neck and went to sleep.
And then she snored.
Cat 1 has snored exactly zero-point-zero times in her life, so I have no idea why last night was THE NIGHT she decided to debut that little accomplishment, but she brought it out in full force. Her eight-pound self sounded like a hundred-fifty-seven-pound St. Bernard with sinus problems.
So I discarded my scarf, because I decided that fur is not all the rage after all.
And the scarf came back. And she snored some more.
And I pushed her off again. And she said, “I’m sorry! I think it’s allergies!”
So that’s pretty much how my night went, and why I’m hoping that the Broncos win early and we can all (YAY!) crawl into our beds WITH ALL THE FRESH SHEETS and go to sleep without our luxurious fur scarves on.
Our big news this weekend is that Thing 2 went officially mobile. We can knock CRAWLING off the list of milestones to accomplish. His crawl is the funniest thing ever, because he drags himself like an injured soldier. He keeps his belly to the floor and PULLS! PULLS! PULLS! with his arms. And now he kicks with his feet, too. It’s exactly like the breast stroke on land.
Seeing as how Hubs and I are two college-educated adults who have rodeo-ed before in the WE HAVE A BABY arena, you would have thought that Thing 2’s newly found mobility wouldn’t have surprised us so much in regards to WOW!
Because look at this:
I have picked up the baby shampoo and Desitin cream approximately 900 times this weekend. I have picked up the burp rags and the bibs twice that much.
Hubs and I were all, “Oh, wow! We PLUM DANG FORGOT about all the unloading that babies do when they get into stuff!”
And then Thing 2 crawled over to an outlet and attempted to unplug his baby monitor, and Hubs and I were all, “OUTLET PLUG COVERS!!” And that’s exactly the moment that we realized how many outlets are in this house. Because? In our old house that was built in 1910? I think it was before electricity had come to that part of Small Town, because we had approximately two outlets in every room. This caused Hubs to suffer from The Frustration, because Hubs adores the ability to plug things in to electricity. So when he built this house, Hubs put approximately one hundred and six outlets in every single room.
Because we thought we were done with babies living here.
Thank you, Jesus, that we were not! Because, sweet mercy! We love having two boys! We’ll buy the outlet plug covers.
And just look at Thing 2, all dressed up this morning for church! (If you look closely, you can see that first tooth there on the bottom that popped in last week.)
And then he crawled over to the open-doored pantry, and proceeded to unload jars of spices and bottles of mustard and packets of drink mixes.
So now Hubs and I are looking at the house with the eyes of new parents. We need to put our Geritol in a higher cabinet. We need to unplug the heating pads when we’re not in our rocking chairs with them. We have things to do, people.
So clearly, just by the lack of sleep due to snoring cats and all the CHASING! CHASING! CHASING! of the baby, you can see why my weekend was exhausting. But guess what? There’s still a whole lot of weekend left to tell.
So I’ll do that tomorrow night.
Right after I pick up the picture frames that are currently on my living room floor. They used to be on the coffee table.
Y’all have a happy Sunday, and don’t forget to keep cheering those Broncos to victory for Hubs.