November 5th

Do you want to know the biggest thing about this last weekend?

I am glad that it’s over.  THAT’S the biggest thing.  Because the strep throat this time around?  Well, it nearly killed us all.  The boy was flattened like a pancake with it, and he spent all day Thursday, Friday AND Saturday in bed.

As in… all day.

Times three.

He only had half of a day of school on Thursday, and no school on Friday, so his entire vacation weekend was ruined.

(But on the bright side, NO HOMEWORK.)

The poor kid threw up so hard and so often, he broke the blood vessels inside of his eye, which caused the white part to turn red.  I had a hard time looking at him without shuddering, because eyes that look Halloween-ish tend to freak me out more than just a little bit.  (However, I can handle funky eyes so much better than I can handle bones, because I can handle the bones NOT AT ALL.  Hubs knows that if either of our children breaks an arm or a leg, HE IS OFFICIALLY ON FULL-TIME DUTY, until said broken bone has healed.  I’m pretty sure THAT’S in our marriage contract, right next to the line item that states, “Mama don’t drive no truck that’s pulling a trailer, neither.”)  And then the boy broke all the capillaries around his eyes and on his cheeks from puking, so his face was covered with purple dots.

The Halloween costumes just kept on going at our house.

We ended up missing a birthday party for one of Thing 2’s best buddies.  We missed the boy’s piano recital.  We missed the boys’ appointment with a photographer to get their Christmas pictures taken.

Thank you, Strep Throat.  You successfully crashed our extra long weekend.

Hubs and I did leave our boys with Mam for a couple of hours so that we could dash off to the junior high and attend the boy’s parent-teacher conferences.  We’re so proud of that boy of ours!  His teachers all had glowing reports about him, and he pulled off a long string of uninterrupted A’s on his report card.  4.00 GPA, baby!  The boy’s science teacher even said, “I want the boy to think about Science Fair this year.  It’s optional for 6th graders, but he needs to do it.”  I nearly blacked out at the conference table right there.  The science projects and I are like oil and water.  I try to rise above them and float on top of them and completely forget that science projects even exist in this universe.  I wish there was a Sentence Diagramming Fair.  With me pushing from behind, the boy would take home the blue ribbon, as we hacked sentences into verbs and subjects and nouns and participles and prepositional phrases and direct objects and predicate adjectives and modifying adverbs.  We’d just grin and yell, “Nailed it!”  But the science?  MY WORD!  I’d like to play my SKIP A TURN card.

At 6:00 on Saturday night, the boy got up out of bed in the same clothes he got into bed with Wednesday night, and he said, “I feel fine now.”

Because when the antibiotics kick in, they KICK IN, so our Sunday was back to normal.

The boy put all of his baking skills to work on yesterday, and he baked Hubs a cake, because listen, y’all.  Hubs is having his birthday today, and there ain’t nothin’ what says, WE LOVE YOU like a chocolate cake made from ingredients that came from the pantry instead of a box.  That boy of ours doesn’t believe in the boxed cake mixes that say, “Add two eggs and a cup of vegetable oil to the cake mix.”  It’s like I don’t even know him.  I have no idea which ancestor gave him the rung on his DNA ladder that’s labeled LIKES TO BAKE THINGS FROM SCRATCH, but it wasn’t his mother.  I gave him his toes, but I had no love of all the baking to hand down as his inheritance.

And this is what you need to know about Hubs.  Yes, he’s older.  But do you know what?  He’s every bit as handsome today as the day I married him.  He’s my best friend.  He makes us all laugh… he takes care of us… he warms my Suburban up on cold days… he makes me coffee with just the right amount of Coffee Mate in it… he knows that I’m going to take a bite of every entree he orders at a restaurant and he’s okay with it… he has adjusted well over the years to my certain type of crazy… he knows how to fix things… he fills my Suburban up with gas a lot, because that’s a job I seldom think about… he knows what to order for me at Starbucks…

Hubs probably isn’t perfect, but he’s perfect for me.  He’s perfect for our boys.

You’re the best Husband I’ve ever had, Hubs.  Happy birthday.

And also?


Look who’s eight entire months old today!

He’s a little giddy about it.

Y’all have a great Monday evening.

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