Ears!

We are slowly trying to wean you off ears. Yes, ears. Ever since you came down with your cold in Boston, you are an ear fiend. You need to squeeze them and rub them and kiss them and even suck on them. You cry like we've taken away your lifeline when we don't allow you to touch them. You beg and plead, then smile and say, "I wuv your ears," while tightly gritting your teeth. We have a lot of burning, throbbing lobes.


It's my ears, Dad's ears, Nana's ears and everybody's ears at the babysitter, even the babies. It's worse when you're tired and sick - which is usually. You like them when you're falling asleep and when you wake up. Actually, you like them anytime we are close.

This little ear fetish is getting old fast. My ears have been pinched so much that they were actually sensitive to the slightest touch. Your desperation makes you say things like, "Can I just touch your ears with my pajamas?" and "I won't squeeze them, just rub a wittle tiny bit?" Your language is so well-formed and eloquent now that you know just the right thing to say these days to avoid our disapproving tone. And when that doesn't work, you simply say, "stop!" when we begin to say no.

Stricken

Okay, we've been sick again. After your brief vomiting spell a couple weeks ago, we all came down with the worst cold that kicked us on our bums. Then on Wednesday, you puked and pooped for about 24 hours - and then on Friday night, your dad hurled so much that he couldn't believe he was still alive. He felt that awful. I feel fine... Famous last words around this house these days. It's been a rough year.

But today was beautiful. We met your new cousin, Stella, this morning. Nigel and Jessica rescued this foxy little gal yesterday.

Update: They changed her name. Now she's known as Neko, more true to her Japanese roots I'm guessing.

And we were lucky enough to be outside for a bit this afternoon and this evening.

I've also got maybe a third of our Boston pictures on Flickr. About halfway through the story. It's not like I haven't been doing anything.

What's in your head?

Mom: "Why are you sticking your finger in my ear?"

Lily: "Cuz I want to touch your brain."

What? Still no synopsis of Boston?

Listen. The weather has been wonderful until today so between planting the garden and cleaning the yard, I haven't wanted to sit down and write or go through pictures. Then again, I might have preferred that to being vomited upon.

The last few days your mood has been fowl, your temper short. Midday on Friday, you'd had it. You passed out at noon, barely the touching the hot dogs I thought you'd devour while laying on the couch. You awoke at 1:30 but didn't want to move so we just watched Peter Pan. You were back asleep by 3:45 and burning up by this time. I took you and Skye for a walk at 5:00 since Dad would be late after going for drinks. You hung your head out the side of the stroller, crying off and on that you wanted to go home. Got home just before Dad, made supper, sat down to eat except you could only lay in my arms. "Feed me." So I fed you the cheese off my pizza, your eyes shut the entire time. Until you sat up to hurl on me, you, the table and the floor.

So it's been movie time since then. Last night we watched the Neverending Story. Today we watched Godzilla 2000, the end of the Neverending Story that you missed last night, then the Secret Garden, the beginning of The Witches, Spongebob Squarepants, napped for 2.5 hours then woke to start watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. You had started feeling so much better so you and Dad got Quizno's for supper. We ate, then played, then got back on the couch to watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory until bedtime.

If there's one good thing about you being sick, it's the cuddling. "Can I lay on your tummy?" you'd ask. By the time you were asking, "Can I suck on your ears?" you were feeling good enough to not need the constant closeness anymore. Next time, get sick during the week. I could use a good weekday to lay around with you in all your cuteness.

Sneak peek...

...of the wonderful pictures I will soon get to - maybe this weekend - of you and our Boston trip. Like last summer after Atlanta, if I wait too long I won't do it at all. Or forget all the details.

An enduring childhood classic, set against the backdrop of an all-white Boston in 1941. Mr. and Mrs. Mallard select the city as the spot to raise their ducklings, but although there are no dangerous foxes or turtles, there are still plenty of surprises and excitement in store for them in Boston. And they have new friends: Michael the Irish cop and his buddies.

The very popular sculpture dedicated to the book was in the public garden. You loved it so much, you kept saying "Take my picture, Mama. Cheeeeeeeese!"

Perfect pose after perfect pose. This was the only time during the trip you actually wanted to get your picture taken and weren't just appeasing me with a giant, fake smile. Awww.

It was our last morning in Boston. After we spent time with the ducks, we took one last walk down Newbury Street to gaze upon the elite shoppers.

We stopped at this fabulous little vintage poster shop and here you and your dad are outside on the street.

Goodbye, Boston!

Home Sweet Home

We got home from our 7-day Boston trip late Saturday night. After throwing you in bed, you screamed that your bum hurt, then slept until 6 a.m. Today we were up at 5 a.m., but you were happy. Then it hurt when you peed so we went to the doctor's office. Looks like a bladder infection. That's what we're dealing with right now. Lots of pictures and details to come. Not of the bladder infection. Just the trip. I'll get to it sometime. When I'm not planting. Or working.