My first post of the second or third time I've tried to start a blog was just eaten by Typepad. Previous posting attempts have been eaten by iBlog and blogspot. I'm just going to keep moving through the software out there until I find one that works. Or perhaps I just need to stop writing such tasty, tasty posts.
Anyway, here it is. I've started a Mommy Blog. And I know it's sooooooooo mid-2004 to have a Mommy Blog, on top of the fact that everyone in the world except me already has a blog (though most haven't updated it since April 22, 2003). Just call me late to the party.
It's Day 4 of The Raging Headcold From Hell, which I am sharing with my mother, even though we live some 200 miles apart. Today I have started cataloguing the various advantages to having TRHcFH, and at the top of the list is changing the diaper pail. Normally, emptying the Diaper Champ involves an elaborate three-step process, all done while holding my breath. First, I must--at great risk to my delicate fingertip flesh--open the pail using the patented FingerScraperLever. Then, after removing the interior trash bag, I must race about the house carrying said bag and emptying the contents of various tiny tiny trash cans into the bag so as to avoid wasting trash bag and therefore landfill space. Finally, it's time to tie up the trash bag and pour copious quantities of baking soda into the new bag to prepare for the next cycle. Please understand that I am asthmatic, so doing all of this while holding my breath can be quite challenging. But not today. Oh no. Today, I was all about the leisurely emptying. I can't smell a thing. Hooray! One scary thing is that I used some Glade air freshener in the can and *could* smell it. Now that's scary. What the hell do they put in Glade that I can't smell blueberry-and-bran diaper death but I can smell country flower blend?
Connery is learning the difference between work and play. Several times a day he announces to us, "I'm going to work now." We tell him to have a nice day, and he walks away and then comes back a few minutes later. We ask him if he processed a lot of files or interviewed any interesting people. He seems to like "talking to customers." After breakfast, he informed me it was time to play. "You come play with me, Mommy." So I sat down, and he got out his tools. Tapping me with the hammer he said, "Fix, fix! I fix you, Mommy."
Perhaps I should get him to work on my nose.