Round Down

Mama enjoys a good sale, and I guess I must talk about my bargains too often. My little mockingbird repeats nearly everything I say. Take the fur lined hat Hudson has been wearing all winter. When a woman at church told him she liked his hat, he responded, “Only two dollars!” I laughed out loud. (It was $2.99, but in Heather-rounding that is only two dollars.)

In honor of Josh’s birthday Thursday, Hudson and I took him to lunch. I thought it was time to breakout the most absolutely awesome Indianapolis Motor Speedway sweatsuit Grandma Janet bought him for Christmas. I told Hudson how cute he as I took these pictures and he grabbed the sweatshirt and quipped, “It costed any dollars, Mama!” Oh jeez, I created a monster.

Speaking of the IMS, we have been awful saddened in this house at the passing of Tom Carnegie. What a nice man he was to Josh and me. We loved having the opportunity to meet him and have him record our wedding reception introduction. If Hudson hadn’t been so sick this week we would have went to the public memorial service. Hopefully little man can wear this fantastic outfit to the track sometime, but I digress.

It took nothing less than ten minutes for the sleeves of this particular outfit to be crusty with snot. He is better, but still crazy snotty. He has the permanent crunchy cheek and string of gunk on his face. Hudson remindes me of that kid in elementary school who would sneeze during class on his hands and wipe them off on his pants. Every day from October to March his jeans were crusty from hips to knees. Oh ye-ah! That kid is now my kid. How I wish children were born with the innate ability to blow their own noses.

What is wrong with this picture?
His nose is snot-blocked.

Speaking of being born, little Cletus the Fetus is causing some stress. Yesterday, the day after I carried around a sick 35 pound little man every-where-I-went, and the day I attempted to clean at least half my house and rid it of nasty germs to host my book club, my body responded with Braxton Hicks...for about six HOURS. I don't have many answers at this point, but I am pretty confident that the on-call doctor's advice of "taking it easy" and specifically, "not lifting anything/anyone" are about as close to reality as cute chubby mice and bluebirds cleaning my kitchen while I lie here on my left side and type. All I know is I am absolutely not a candidate for bedrest, so my body better chill out and figure out how to cope with the next 21 weeks or so of this.

I think I went off topic again, or I am not sure this blog has a real point. How about just wrapping this up with, HAPPY BIRTHDAY Joshie! Thanks for being such a great husband and partner and dada.

You might be 35, but that is only 30 in Heather-rounding.