The Usual

Well, it didn’t take long for the nasty little germs that hide in every nook and cranny of daycareland to sink their claws into W. Within 24 hours he had a glistening snail trail of snot on his upper lip, a transparent mustache. It doesn’t seem to bother him much until I wield the blue bulb nose sucker and then he knows something’s up and about to go down on his person. Poor little guy tries to break free of my clutches while clinging to me with the hopefulness that I will make it all stop. He’s developing a cough, too, so I guess he’s going to cycle all of the illnesses through his system in a relatively short period of time. The sooner we get this over, the better. There is an end to this, yes? Isn’t he building up an armory of defending agents to fight off later infections? I think that’s how it works.

On the caregiver front, I have found someone to finish out the month with W on the M/W/F loop. She’s a friend of the Alabama nanny and SUPER sassy. When she was visiting with W this past weekend I was telling baby who she was and that they were going to have fun together and hang out and she said “We’re going to dance!” with such enthusiasm, I wanted to be around to join in. W’s never had a dancing caregiver before, I don’t think, so bring on the Ginger Rogers or Madonna moves. I inquired at daycare on Thursday as to when W might be in line for a full time spot (I know, full time seems like a lot to me, too, but I think some consistency for a while would be nice for all the family members in our household…besides, hunting for sitters SUCKS).

Just to let you know, I’ve changed Willem’s name to DJ Baby Velcro. He is going through an intense version of mommyitis and won’t let me go. Wanna hike Mt. Everest? C’mon. I’ve got the back of a tenured sherpa. He constantly wants to be held by me and no other substitute will work. I find myself lying on the floor a lot just so he has proximity to my arms and torso and I don’t have to heft his skinny frame all damn day. Problem with being on the floor is that he makes his desires to play “horse” known and his charming way of inquiring if the stable is open makes it hard for me to say no. He leans on my back, clutches my shirt and clicks his tongue like the sound of horse hooves and soon we are running through the house. My back aches just thinking about it.

More later today. It’s time to punch in at the salt mine.