Ok, ok, got my homework done at a reasonable hour last night so I’m giving myself permission to do a super quick post.
Two T moments in a timespan of less than 12 hours that perfectly define him:
On Sunday night Z got home in time for bath which meant we were able to settle into our regular bedtime routine. After we pulled the boys out of the tub Z whisked C off to his room to get him dressed and I stayed with T in the bathroom. I brushed his teeth then he brushed his teeth. I brushed his hair. He was wiggling with excitement because it was time for me to lift him so he could take a gander at himself in the mirror. I think it is one of the highlights of his existence and we hadn’t done it for three days. He really enjoys what he sees and that delight in himself thrills me.
Mirrors have been my enemy for so long. When I walk down the street I avert my eyes and don’t glance at my reflection in the building windows. I don’t look up in the bathroom mirror much. It is easier to ignore my face instead of sneaking a peak only to spend the next 10 minutes tearing apart my physical appearance in my head. So if my little man digs on his reflection I will hold him up so he can see his freshly brushed hair every damn night.
He sighed with pleasure at the sight of himself. Looked for a moment and with an enormous amount of sass hollered, “I’m BACK!”
Monday morning C started fussing at 6:30. After silently celebrating the fact that we got to sleep in an extra 30 minutes I stumbled to the bathroom to have a pee before heading into C’s room. A moment later I heard T open his door and head down the hall towards me. T stopped right in front of me, his little legs almost touching my knees, “I have to pee.” Me, “Well you are going to have to hold it because as you can see I am currently peeing.”
We stared at each other for a while. My bladder was really full. And then I let one rip. This fart. It was amazing. Like 5 seconds long (which doesn’t sound like a lot, but really count to 5, that is l-o-n-g for a fart) and amplified by the toilet bowl and really very flappy sounding. It was a thing of beauty. It was a work of art. T burst out laughing. I joined him feeling rather proud of myself. Suddenly he stopped and looked at me with deadly seriousness. “That wasn’t me.”
Grandma and Grandpa came bearing gifts. Seems the boys have turned to the dark side.
My happy raccoon and suspicious monster.
Hey smart friends! You guys rock! Took your advice and ate two bananas, drank a shitload of water, did a bunch of stretches, puffed on my albuterol inhaler and jogged this morning without a stitch. My side felt tender, almost bruised. And I did walk for about .2 of the total 2 miles. During that walk I pinched the hell out of the stitch area and bent over a bit. So I used all of the advice and it really worked. Thank you for your help!