What a brave little girl I have! First they spray her nose (each nostril) with the N1H1 vaccine. Then they stick her 3 times. Not a single tear!
I'm a bit surprised by the growth charts. I didn't realize she was in the 75th percentile range for height. She seems short to me. I mean she's still wearing 18 month clothing. Who knew? She is still hovering in the 10th for weight. Growing at a constant rate.
Also of note would be the length to weight chart. She is below the 3rd percentile. Meaning, she's a skinny little thing for her height at this age.
Alas, now she is cranky. Best get her a snack or something.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Saturday, October 03, 2009
dream
So I had a dream last night that I need to tell you about.
Wes and I were putting Josiah to bed. His execution was scheduled for the next day. I commented that maybe he wanted to stay up all night and read. Wes gave me a look. We were trying to keep life light and normal. I was a bit on edge but I kept thinking that surely my seven year old would be given a pardon. Surely his paper work would cross Obama's desk and he would let my seven year old have a lifetime to do whatever a little boy dreams of. So I didn't seem too worried. (No, I don't know why he was being executed. Yes, in the dream he was seven, but in real life he'll be six on monday.)
Next scene, I'm in a large room and restless. Other people live in this large building. People I know have left stuff laying around. There is a tv. I pick up the remote. An older gentlemen walks in, he's maybe about 70. He asks if I've found my egg. There are plastic eggs everywhere. Humm, Easter. Wes brings me the yellow one that was under a piano bench he was sitting at. It has a smaller egg in it and a piece of paper. I can see this through the still closed egg. I sit down on a table? Wes still has the egg. He opens it for me and pulls out a whole sheet of paper from the little egg. He is reading it over my shoulder. I glance over it and see at the bottom that our friends have reserved the annex for us and left us dinner so we can have a special evening together. Wes is throwing his fists into the air victoriously. I go back to the top of the letter and notice the only part of the letter he has read. There is a bold boxed section. It states that I have been given a stay of execution for the next year. At this point I was the one being executed. I weep. I bawl. I sob. Wes holds me tight as the tears fall and fall.
I wake up.
Interesting dream I think. Execution. Easter. We have all been given a stay of execution from our Saviour.
Wes and I were putting Josiah to bed. His execution was scheduled for the next day. I commented that maybe he wanted to stay up all night and read. Wes gave me a look. We were trying to keep life light and normal. I was a bit on edge but I kept thinking that surely my seven year old would be given a pardon. Surely his paper work would cross Obama's desk and he would let my seven year old have a lifetime to do whatever a little boy dreams of. So I didn't seem too worried. (No, I don't know why he was being executed. Yes, in the dream he was seven, but in real life he'll be six on monday.)
Next scene, I'm in a large room and restless. Other people live in this large building. People I know have left stuff laying around. There is a tv. I pick up the remote. An older gentlemen walks in, he's maybe about 70. He asks if I've found my egg. There are plastic eggs everywhere. Humm, Easter. Wes brings me the yellow one that was under a piano bench he was sitting at. It has a smaller egg in it and a piece of paper. I can see this through the still closed egg. I sit down on a table? Wes still has the egg. He opens it for me and pulls out a whole sheet of paper from the little egg. He is reading it over my shoulder. I glance over it and see at the bottom that our friends have reserved the annex for us and left us dinner so we can have a special evening together. Wes is throwing his fists into the air victoriously. I go back to the top of the letter and notice the only part of the letter he has read. There is a bold boxed section. It states that I have been given a stay of execution for the next year. At this point I was the one being executed. I weep. I bawl. I sob. Wes holds me tight as the tears fall and fall.
I wake up.
Interesting dream I think. Execution. Easter. We have all been given a stay of execution from our Saviour.
10 years ago...
...I wrote dozens and dozens of thank you notes. Um, I just found ten of them in a box. Undelivered. I thought I'd done so well. They most have been packed in the move and gotten lost. We bought our first house just four or five months into our lives of married bliss. One of them is even the one I wrote for my maid of honor. Smooth, Angie.
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