Alex has been a sick little monkey this week. In fact, I can't remember him ever having had a worse cold, particularly one with such a dreadful cough. He's handling it like a champ, though, aside from getting up every few hours to magically appear on my side of the bed and surprise the living crap out of me. Since I witnessed the first fit of coughs on Sunday, I've been taking bets as to when I'll get this lovely cold myself - double your money if you can guess the exact date when the cough finally causes me to lose what little control of my bladder I have left.
Yesterday, I was up at five AM worrying about money. Isn't that the most fun thing to worry about after only four solid (albeit interrupted) hours of sleep! I know it's my favorite. We're not having problems per se - it's just general anxiety about pouring a butt-ton of money into our condo while simultaneously paying both the mortgage and rent. We spent Monday driving from one uber home renovation store to the next, poor Dave unloading box after box of heavy floor tile into the garage. And I couldn't be prouder of my tile conquests. We found granite for under four dollars a square foot. GRANITE, people! I'm so stoked that now I feel like I'm competing with myself on that stupid Property Ladder show. HOW FAST CAN SHE RENOVATE AND MAKE A BUCK!?!?!? I know the suspense is killing me. Particularly at five am.
But I digress. What I'm really trying to say is that in spite of the Evil Cold of Doom, Alex was generally well-behaved while we bickered about floor tile. I could give you all the reasons why, but Rachel says it with so much BRILLIANCE in this post that no one with a two year old boy should miss. Here's a hint: YES WE CAN!
Is everyone else as excited about Christmas as I am? For a total heathen on whom the entire religious significance is pretty much lost, I sure seem to be really into it this year. I had to drag Dave practically kicking and screaming to the Christmas tree lot on Saturday because I couldn't wait to get started decorating. He still insists that it's insanely early to have a tree, but for the first time since I was a kid, I want to enjoy Christmas for as long as possible.
And I'm just LOVING the whole Santa thing. Can you believe it didn't occur to me until JUST THIS YEAR that all of those times my parents warned me that I was going to get a stocking full of coal if I didn't behave, that those threats? THEY WERE ALL COMPLETELY EMPTY! That even when my brother Dan stole my Dad's Lincoln Towncar and drove it around town during the Strawberry Festival even though he was only fifteen, SANTA STILL FRICKIN' CAME. It had just never occurred to me that most parents would no sooner keep Santa from coming than cut off their own limbs. We love the whole thing just as much as the kids do.
I also absolutely adore Christmas music with, like, every fiber of my being. Don't laugh. Some time before Thanksgiving I bought Diana Krall's new Christmas album at Costco and we've been listening to it in the car (it sure beats 'Little People Sing Construction Songs'). Anyway, her rendition of The Christmas Song (Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...) sends chills down my spine - I highly recommend it. Unfortunately (more for him than for me), Dave's comment on the new CD was "Christmas music doesn't really work well as jazz." Which made me want to punch him just a little bit and launched me into a tirade. Not for jazz? Christmas music IS jazz, practically by definition (Christmas standards) and this is the one time of year when, whether they like it or not, everyone gets a little bit of it in their system and it helps drown out all the Snoop Dog. Perhaps that's why I love it so.
Another piece of good news is that Alex seems to have finally weaned himself. Two nights ago (or three, I've been working on this post since Monday morning) he took a small sip, made a funny face and declared, "Boob tastes yucky. You tell me a story instead." (I swear I'm not taking any liberties here - the child said "instead".) The next time he asked me for it, I reminded him of the yuckiness and he totally dropped the subject. He hasn't asked for it since. I had heard that pregnancy could change the taste of breast milk and not in a good way, but I thought it was an old wives tale. Thank god I was wrong!
In quick (ha!) baby news, aside from a ticklish jolt during Thanksgiving dinner (which frankly could've been gas), I haven't felt the baby move yet. I've been trying to, but the beebster isn't cooperating. I'll be sixteen weeks on Friday and I really honestly thought I'd be feeling it pretty often by now, especially because they say you feel the second baby sooner than you do the first. I'm not worried yet - it's still early - but it's BUGGING me!