Here’s a run down of the past month:
Yolanda and I go to Florida for my brother’s wedding.
Brother and new wife announce that they are expecting a baby this summer (No shit, Chet, no shit!)
Yolanda gets sick and coughs for the remainder of our vacation. Green snot oozes from her nose.
I get sick. My parents get sick. My new sister-in-law gets sick.
Come home to Jimbo who has eaten fast food the entire time we’ve been away.
Yolanda and I recover from our colds.
Yolanda walks!
Yolanda promptly gets another cold. More coughing and more snot.
Yolanda is having separation anxiety issues and doesn’t want daddy. Doesn’t want to be physically not touching me at any time during the day or night.
Jimbo woos Yolanda back by taking her to eat fast food and shop at Target.
Jimbo and I both get sick. Tissues are flying. Everybody is crabby.
We rally for Thanksgiving and have a great meal, just the three of us. I pretend I’m not a vegetarian and eat turkey, lots of turkey.
So pretty much, Yo has been sick for an entire month. She coughs at night, she sneezes columns of snot during the day. Poor baby! We’ve got the humidifier going in her room and both Jimbo and I have become pros at using the nasal aspirator– this thing. What’s funny is that unlike most babies I’ve known, Yolanda kinda likes having her snot suctioned. She doesn’t fight us and she gets really still when we put the aspirator in her nose. She does shudder sometimes when we get a big glob of mucus. I always make the same joke to her, “What’s the matter Punky… did I suck out a little piece of your brain?” Har har.
So there you have it, Pen. We’re sick. We’re tired. Wearing sweat pants. Swearing wet pants.
