You may be thinking I’m still curled up in that mitten and that’s why I haven’t been updating this blog.
I had to come out because of this kid.
He’s cute, right? Well, that’s his saving grace.
He’s cute but very VERY demanding. We’re talking fussy then happy then fussy then hold me then fussy and feed me and fussy and…
Whoa. I’m pushing 50! What’s up with this? Francis should be, I think, more respectful of his elders. He should be more like big brother George who just asked, “When you’re a grandma and I’m a dad, will you teach me everything you know?”
Instead, he stands at the rail of his crib and wails. He smacks at my chest as we walk down the stairs, which is his pleasant way of saying “I want to nurse. Right now.” That’s when I give him a half-eaten sucker (His big sister’s? Who knows? Who cares? It was handy!), which buys me the time that I need to brew my coffee and slam it.
(On days like this, I wish my mug were jacuzzi-sized. I would climb in with nothing but a book & some biscotti and emerge, hours later…wrinkly but thoroughly caffeinated.)
It isn’t easy being fourteen months old, I know. The kid is cutting all four molars and for that I’m willing to cut him some slack.
Just don’t ask me to give up coffee for Lent.