Okay. So in this house resides one slightly obsessed toddler. "Mouse" is the first word she says every morning, and usually the last word she says every night. She loves loves loves The Tale of Despereaux, which I am not completely proud of but I do jump for joy when I am in the kitchen and she's on the couch watching the movie and I yell, "You okay in there?" and she replies, "I watchin' the mouse, mama." Yes. She's 21 months old. OMG. She's not. She's 22 months old. Holy crap. Honest to God, I just realized I missed it. Now I'm going to cry.
Today is Tuesday. So it was Sunday. I had no idea. We were in the ER on Sunday from 9.30 a.m. to after 2.30 p.m. She was dehydrated for the second time in her life and had to have IV fluids. She didn't even flinch when they put in the IV, and only after the fourth blood sample did she even look at me and clearly want to cry. She would have if she'd had any tears. We slept together and she had two apple juice boxes. I am really hoping she is on the mend, because my psyche cannot handle falling madly in love with her over and over again every second of every single day. I am exhausted. Every time I look at her I want to scream my lungs out. My heart literally swells up inside my chest and I can hardly breathe. This is not unlike how I usually feel when I see her gorgeous face, but it is that times 1000 when she is ill.
School is fine. Math is hard. A girl in my class, Carly Wilson (not sure if that is spelled correctly), was told by the teacher that her name sounded familiar. She said, "Yeah. Maybe because of Carnie Wilson (not sure if that is spelled correctly either). Teacher said, "Oh, yes." Someone said, "Who is that?" Carly said, "She's like the daughter of a Beatle or something."
oh mah gawd
It was then I realized this year's college freshman was born when I was a college freshman.
I've been doing a lot of crying lately.