In case my nonstop working schedule wasn’t enough of a clue, my immune system is clearly not 100% illness-proof. My sore throat last weekend headed right into laryngitis this weekend, and Saturday I ended up in the doctor’s office. Bronchitis (quite a case of it, from the doctor’s description). And now? I battle back with biiiig horsepill antibiotics and cough syrup with codeine.

Oh, how I love that cough syrup. I sleep well. I don’t cough. NyQuil wasn’t enough to keep me from coughing.

But the best part, well, not the best but pretty awesome: Freebird was home sick on Friday with me. It was the best Freebird & Mommy day. He’d been on antibiotics for strep for 24 hours and was feeling better, so I packed snacks, some Motrin, and my wallet in my bag, and we did everything ever. We went clothes shopping and bought him lots of pants and “work shirts.” My adorable preppy son now likes to dress like Daddy every day and wear a button down. Oh, is it cute.

Then we went to the playground.
Then we went to the party store to get things for his birthday party gift bags. My rule was that it had to be a useful consumable item or something that was disposable and not plastic. So we have stickers, notepads, and packs of crayons - woo!

Then we went to lunch.

THEN we went to Freebird’s first movie in a theatre: Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. SO adorable, and even though he didn’t weigh enough to keep the seat open, he loved the movie. He cried when we left because we couldn’t go back in and watch it again.

Freebird is so much fun. He’s quieter than his brother and very thoughtful and introspective, but so creative and interesting. What an amazing day. He might not remember it, but I bet I will.

I miss our dog, Logan. I miss his ears. I miss his snoring. I miss when he was a little younger (we tend to adopt adult/older dogs so “younger” is relative) and would roll around on the floor to scratch his back. I miss his pointy paws and his butt wiggle.

But also, without taking away from Logan’s importance in our family, I miss having a dog. Such a no-brainer but they’re so different from cats. I miss the interaction and the head rubbing. I even miss the opportunity for walks - and the kids are old enough that one or both could come with us. Alex definitely would love to help take care of a dog.

But I don’t think it’s time yet, mostly because we’re so busy. Soon come. 

I went online and found a fall jacket and a kick ass winter coat. On sale. And this week? It’s in the 60s.

If I start shopping for winter boots will it be beach weather?!

I have a weakness for the Twitter feed of Rev. Run, as in Run DMC. I generally hate inspirational crap that’s broad and meaningless, the happy blather version of faux psychics or horoscopes giving advice and warnings that fit just about everyone, even random squirrels.

But the Reverend Run said a few days ago: “Happiness is an act of courage.”

Ok, Rev Run, you are right on that one. Being happy is a victory I savor every day. It takes a lot to achieve, sometimes, and the fact that I’m happy, that I love my life, is one of the things I think of first when I literally count my blessings.

Lately one of the things that makes me very content and happy is having a fire in the fireplace, even on a weeknight. Last night Hubby picked up a small bundle of wood (our big order won’t arrive until Sunday) and we had a fire while we had our monthly finance meeting and ate dinner. Just the sound of the fire and seeing it and smelling it relaxed both of us, and it was a much more mellow evening than I had expected.

So Sunday, a big pile of wood will arrive so the fireplace will continue to snap, crackle, and make us happy.

I absolutely loathe the Wake Up With Al show on the Weather channel. I absolutely hate it.

All I want is the weather. Just a forecast so I know while I’m getting dressed what I should wear. Instead I get jovial Roker and two lame co-hosts making ridiculous segments out of nothing (Let’s see where the Weather made the FRONT PAGE of the local PAPER! Let’s interview a celebrity about HAIL!) and barely applicable weather.

I would tolerate the computerized voice during the local forecast 24-7 more than I would the Al Roker self-love extravaganza. Sweet holy crap I hate that freaking show. I want information. I do not want to be entertained. I miss the science and explanations in the morning - like, for example, the high today is going to be 57, but the high will be reached at 10am and then temperatures will plummet so it’s 45 when I leave work and pick up my kids? That’s important crap I need to know. I don’t give a flying clusterfuck what celebrities think about the weather.

Oh, the stupidity. The outright, ridiculous, horrific stupidity. I can’t even get the weather without infotainmentlebrity shite.

Back in my cave I go.

On Sunday, Baba O’Riley and I took a ride over to the garden center to get some fall flowers for the garden. It was a very warm afternoon so I opened my window.

Baba: “Turn on my window, Mommy!”

Me: “Ok. How’s that?”

Baba: “More window, Mommy!”

Me: “Ok, here’s a little more. How’s that? You ok?”

Baba: “It’s all good, Mommy.”

Yeah it’s been a month. Home leave was awesome.

1. Baba: “Draw M!”
Freebird: “Ok.”
Baba: “DRAW W!”
Freebird: “Ok.”
Baba: “DRAW M AGAIN!”
Freebird: “I can’t deal with this.”

2. Freebird, Baba and I went to a free concert in NYC this past weekend. Not only did Freebird rock out but he came down to the dance floor area in front of the stage and air-guitared for over an hour. He was SO into it. I guess it’s music lesson time.