J has been uber-sick, and so the coughing and puking rages on. We're going to take him to the doctor on tuesday just to ensure (once again) it's not anything serious. (You hear stories of sick babies dying of meningitis in their mother's arms and you think to yourself "HOLY SHIT, maybe he's sicker than I think he is." and you rush off to the Dr. only to hear "Yeah, he's okay, it's just a cold." And she gives you that look that makes you feel like the typical "NEW MOM" . Gragh. Oh well, better safe than sorry, right?)
Totally off topic, I CANNOT get this STUPID song out of my head:
DAMN YOU RAFFI!
It's hilarious, even S is going around the house singing it! LOL!
Oh, and purely based on a quote, I'm TOTALLY buying this book. Here's the quote:
He falls asleep and I feel I could die of love when I watch him, and I think to myself that he is what angels look like. Then I doze off, too, and it’s like heaven, but sometimes only twenty minutes later he wakes up and begins to make his gritchy rodent noises, scanning the room wildly. I look over at him in the bassinet, and think, with great hostility, Oh, God, he’s raising his loathsome reptilian head again.
When I go over to the bassinet to pick him up, though, he looks up at me like I’m Coco the clown—he beams, and makes raspberries, and does frantic bicycle kicks like he’s doing his baby aerobics. Then I feel I can go on.