One word: Croup.
Last night, I insisted to X that we needed to sit in a steamy bathroom with Arun to clear his croupy throat. X protested saying this did not make sense and that Arun would just freak out. He proclaimed that the cool mist humidifier in the bedroom was enough. He then questioned my expertise in the realm of Things Croupy. How could I explain that I had seen Debra Winger do it with her daughter during the countless times I have watched Terms of Endearment, one of my all-time favorite movies? I cannot blame him for not wanting put the fate of our son's health in Debra Wingers hands. But still. Innernets, was I wrong??
My poor baby. There is something about a feverish kid that freaks my shit out. I do not handle it well. But now, I have Perspective again. Something I had lost earlier this week when I was struggling with a big of a Funk. Holy CRAP. Nothing else matters much when your baby is sick. Nothing.
Anyway - while doing nightwatch over Arun last night, ironically, I had time to fiddle with photos on the Mac that resides in the spare bedroom. Enjoy.
Just what I always wanted. My own little sister!
I will name her George, and I will hug her, and pet her, and squeeze her.
Look at my baby girl totally rockin' those cowboy pajamas! I hope she appreciates those moose pajamas that are comin' down her Fashion Pike.
Yes, blue eyes. We are not sure whether they will eventually turn brown, but damn. We are loving them in the meantime.