Here are some pictures of the kids in their Christmas Finery. They are looking pretty snazzy, if I do say so myself.
Is It Really Only 8 am?
Some days seem to last a really, really long time. I just looked at the clock and was stunned to see that we've only been awake for two hours, and yet it feels like so much more. I am still undecided on weather this will turn out to be a good thing or a bad thing for this day.
Everyone in our family - except for baby Amelia, thankfully - is suffering from some form of cold. CT, as usual, seemed to get the worst of it. The most worrisome symptom he had was disgusting discharge coming out of his eyes. I took him to the doctor, fearing pink eye, but the doctor said it wasn't so. Instead I learned a fact that I had no previous knowledge of and kind of wish I didn't know now, which is that sometimes if your sinuses and nose are full the mucus will back up and come out of your eyes. Isn't that gross? Apparently that is what was happening to CT. He also had a ear infection, so some antibiotics were necessary. CT is an off the charts terrible patient for all thing medical, so I was concerned about the ordeal it would be to get him to take this medicine. Luckily my approach of never referring to it as medicine, but rather as his "special drink" in his "special little cup" has worked like a charm. In fact, it may have worked a tad too well because throughout the day he will ask if he can have "some of that special drink" and throw a fit when I explain he only gets to take it twice a day.
Being a mother to three children under three really is something. I don't feel like I can ever really say "woe is me" about the demands of it, because after all no one forced these children upon me. They are sweet and dear and I am just trying to accept the fact that for the next few years my house will perpetually look like a tornado just came through it, the piles of clean and dirty laundry will be ever increasing with no magic elves coming in the night to take care of it for me as I so often desperately wish, and I won't have seen the latest movie or read the latest book for a very, very long time. This all makes me feel like a very uninteresting person - the type of person who would have absolutely nothing to say at a party except for disgusting stories about her small children and their mucus. I miss being interesting. That's something I don't think I'll ever be able to say about mucus stories...
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