I hope none of you had family affected by the big Virginia twister. I'm waiting to hear from a friend about his mom who lives there part time. I'm sure she's okay, but you never know.
And by "friend", I mean "ex-husband". Not that this fact has any merit other than some salacious intrigue, but with life so short, why not throw it in?
My friend has a blog himself. I'll wait to see if it's okay that I share it with you. Baldo's dad, are you there? Do you want one million women hopping over to your site? Now's your chance! (Okay, one hundred women... whatever.)
On other breaking news, my mom is now able to walk to the bathroom in under an hour, thanks to her healing ankle. By Friday she should be able to write that novel "Around the Block in 80 Days". Look for it in big print at a store near you.
* Side note: My mom got a call from her 80 year old brother with this thick Jersey accent. "So, sis, are you feeling better? It's so great to find out about your busted foot through your daughters blog!" Hi to any and all of my fellow Eastern clan that read this. I hope I make you proud with all my talk about tics, poop, sex and Mothers Animal cookie excess. Not necessarily in that order. Write when you can.
Today, my son had these minor vocal tics - kind of like light "beeps" and I was feeling like the crappiest mom ever because they were driving me CRAZY. And really, it's not his fault. So I didn't say anything and tried to think positive happy thoughts. Unfortunately, the thoughts kept being interrupted by annoying beeps so I wasn't really winning that game.
Side note again: Stink, if you ever read this down the road, know that I love you to pieces. I promise to give you lots more to hate me for than working through my noise issues. Like the time I'll show up at your First Communion training dressed as Barney. That'll teach you to steal that chocolate.
People, the truth is, my son is fine with a few tics. They really are small. It's ME that has the issue. I need to get over it. I really do. Because honestly, it could get worse, it could get better. What he needs is a mom who 100% loves him no matter what. Which I do. But I don't need to get so crazy over it. I need to have some faith in what I'm doing. Which is a lot. So that's enough of that.
Tonight, along the lines of dealing with differences in a positive light, Stink picked out "Don't Cry Big Bird" as a bed time book. It was a new one, but as fate would have it, it was all about how Big Bird feels different and cries about it. But his friends all do nice things like make the hop scotch game bigger. Or all of them sit on one side of the see saw so he can bounce with them. The moral: Difference is not that bad. You just need to adjust and move on.
Yeah, I didn't feel stupid or anything.
