I can die happy, at least.

I was the lamest of all parents today.

I have this wisdom tooth; it’s trying to gain access to my mouth through any means necessary, despite the fact that there’s simply no room in this inn. If this means ripping its way much too high, too far toward my cheek, if it means punching a hole into the back of my mouth in its urgency to arrive, then SO BE IT!

The pressure on the back of my jaw is making it impossible to open my mouth very far.  The only foods that can find clearance are those the width of an Oreo or less.  And maybe I’ve eaten a lot of Oreos today.  A body needs calories to function, you guys! 

Anyway, on top of the errant, sadistic tooth, I’ve got a swollen gland and tonsil (both next to Rambo-tooth), a raging sore throat, a headache, chills, and I was trying to decide which bed to bestow the title of ‘death’ upon, because I was probably going to need it.

When I woke up to Olivia’s calls this morning, I could feel the presence of my wisdom tooth hammering away at the back of my mouth.  I couldn’t move my jaw much, and my throat was really sore, so when I tried to speak, it came out all raspy and sounded like, “Oli-yah, do you wah breh-fass?  Come ‘ere.  Wha you wanna ea?”  She shot me an alarmed glance and asked, “Why’re you talkin’ weird like that?” 

So I spent the majority of the day laying on the floor of whatever room Olivia chose to occupy, huddled into a little mass of Pathetic.  I am becoming endlessly thankful for her newly developed ability to play independently.  (but she chooses to be very selective about when she uses her new talent.)  She spent the entire day today creating games out of random objects while I lay in a corner whimpering.  At one point she asked to go to the bathroom, we went, I laid on the rug (which is brand new and also I vacuumed it just yesterday, so don’t get grossed out), and she discovered all sorts of things to do in there.

At this point I had my phone handy.  From my vantage point on the floor:

She is stacking our ample selection of shampoos.  She smelled each one, weighed them, and rearranged them fifty times.

She is also still in her pajamas.  At 3 forty five in the afternoon.

Here’s to hoping for a better day of health tomorrow.

 

I saw this little poem on Pinterest, and it really resonated with me:

Because, today especially, but most days, in general, I could use a reminder to be patient and speak kindly.  Which are, ironically, the things I am asking Olivia to do ALL THE TIME.  But I should probably be asking myself a little more often, as well.

I will be pretty sad some day, when days of picnics with my Olivia Scout are over.

I am lucky to be a mom.  And I don’t always remember that.

Here are some pictures of stuff:

Please look at this picture and notice the spectacular length of that snake’s tongue.  We were at Rusty’s house celebrating his potty training and the fact that he’s, in his own words, an ‘Unnawear Boy!’ now.

Olivia just loves Thomas.  Thomas thinks she’s terrifying.

A picture Olivia drew of ants and snails the other day on her paper towel from her lunch.  The cheerful little ants are my favorite.

Yesterday, before my mouth decided to mutiny, Cara and I attended a Tim McGraw concert.  She got me a ticket for my birthday, hooray!

I don’t know why I chose to stand like a pageant queen.

We were pretty far from the stage, but luckily, Mr. McGraw decided to come into the audience, right next to us (!!) for his first two songs.

He doesn’t really shine like a Golden God of the Heavens.

OR DOES HE?  

No, he doesn’t.  But can you get over how close he was to us?

It was such a fun show.  The people-watching was PHENOMENAL, as you can imagine, and Tim put on a great show.  I was comforting myself today, as I waited in my agonizing pain to die, that dying wouldn’t really be so bad after such a great night as last night.  Right?