Anyway, we are plugging along here on Washington Boulevard. I am home today with some sort of unpleasant stomach bug. I'm actually feeling much better now than I did this morning at 3:30, when I spent some quality time in the loo. Didn't feel like risking dicey moments at work so here I am. Work is fine, but it's still work. I dream of a time when I get to stay home and take care of my family. I know that's not a popular dream any more, but it's mine. So, I keep my fingers crossed.
Sara is great, as usual. Well, maybe I don't think that when she is climing out of her high chair (she actually had one leg out this A.M. -- fantastic), throwing fits, pulling everything in sight onto the ground, and head butting me. So, she's developing an independent streak. I guess I thought I had another year before that became an issue but what do I know? (Not very much apparently.) Still, most of the time she is more fun than I would have imagined. She loves loves loves the kitties (in fact "kitty" is her first real word), loves to stack and throw her buckets, loves to push her truck (kudos to Uncle David, because I never would have thought to get her a truck), loves to screech, loves to throw things (she's got her Grandma Sara's arm), loves to play peek-a-boo, loves to hug her teddy bear, loves to babble, loves being_awake__ for__ a___really___long____time_______. She says "kitty" and "hat" and "night-night" and "hi" and "Mama" (at least I think that's what she's saying) and "Pete" (which, naturally, came long before "Mama"). She generally knows where her ears, nose, and tummy are, if she feels like showing you. She's usually got at least two bruises - one on her face - at all times because she's a monkey-girl. She is trying to run but wipes out every time. Her hair is crunchy by lunchtime and she tends to reek of sour milk by dinner (those neck folds are a killer). She loves bathtime and hates getting changed. She loves to have people sing to her, never mind if it sounds good or makes any sense. She falls asleep when we say prayers every night. She is an everyday roller coaster of the very best kind.
And boy, does she wear me out.
Rob started classes this week. He's taking something that has to do with circuits and a lab. Seems to like it so far which is good. The beard is back which makes him happy be me, not so much. (I just read a post somewhere that listed the top 10 blogging cliches and "not so much" was among them. Guess I'd better clean up my act.) I don't know why I'm not so crazy about the beard, because I think it looks good enought, but... Anyway, I live with it. He's enjoying the Eagles games and his new PDA. He's still a self-confessed slob but helps me out probably more than most husbands even though I don't usually acknowledge it, so I think I'll keep him.
Dad is Dad. We take everyday as it comes. I remind myself, when I remember, that time really is of the essence here. I had better make the best of everything even when it's not very pleasant. Sara and I pray every night for we-don't-know-what and then I hope that I get it right. That's about all there is to do I suppose.
So there's a little snapshot of us these days. We're kind of like the Little Engines That Never Would Have Believed We Could, but apparently we can. Most days it's despite ourselves, but we just keep plugging along up the mountain. (I have to admit though, that I'm looking forward to coming down the other side.)