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I’m sitting here with Pierce watching “Little Bear.”  This morning while I was getting ready to go to my job for four hours, Mikey and Pierce were goofing off.  I walked through the hall and saw my tot sort of playing with a bouncy ball and yet sort of whining and crying.  Then he follows me back into my bedroom sobbing with the snot bubbles expanding and contracting out of his nose.  We were about to walk out the door to take Michael to school, and the sadness follows us all the way to car and on our drive.  I would look in the rearview mirror and see the most gruesome expression of discomfort and hear more cries.  Big brother tried his hand at consoling and working to help me get out of Pierce what was wrong.  Usually, he will tell me when something hurts or point to it, but he was offering up few clues other than sobs and dirty looks.  It would ebb a bit and then the tears would return.  While we were in the car line, Mikey asked again what was hurting and his brother muttered something unintelligible.  Mr. Smarty Pants translated and mimicked through tight lips “tomach huuts.”   It was really funny, but I didn’t think that was accurate.  So, after I kicked him out of the car for messing with me, I drove home to the sounds of my tot’s whimpers and sobs.  When we got in the house, he still was uncomfortable.  He kept coughing, and I thought he was going to throw up, but he didn’t.  Guess his brother wasn’t far off the mark, (I suppose I should be sorry for kicking him out of the car at school.)  Then he got so upset he kept asking to go in his crib and for me to sit in the chair, so I tucked him in and sat down where he could see me.  Eventually the tears abated and I found him just staring at the ceiling.  That was a little unnerving; but pretty soon, I saw evidence of improvement –a little singing and chattering and then wanting to “get down.”I took him out, and immediately thought “Why didn’t I go to work?”  By this point I had called out and cancelled bringing him over to Grammy and Papa’s.  Within ten minutes he was out of sorts again.  Back in his crib—he was pretty smelly, too, like he was passing gas.  Then it passed AGAIN!  Off we went to the living room for a little “Little Bear” distraction.  Still stinking as he cuddled up next to me, I figured now that he was just suffering from a really bad gas bubble that was probably pinching and cramping in his belly.  His mood was markedly better, though.  Then I discovered a couple hard balls in the back of his diaper—guess it was something more solid than gas… oops…  Anyway, he seems back to normal, now, and I’m feeling badly about having not gone to work.  Oh well…I’m a mother first and foremost!

 

Later in the day…

Pierce frolicked and played the afternoon away, while I dozed off the stress of worrying that my baby’s “tummy ache” was intestinal cancer.  Then we went to get Mikey at school.  Pierce fell asleep while I was driving to pick up his brother, so we decided to stop and talk to Randy Bill (goat)and his cohorts on the way home.  He was up to his usual horny antics—Mikey finally caught the evidence of it today and said “He’s pooping, Mommy!”  No, Darling, that’s his “hoo hoo.”  It’s out, and I cannot tell a lie, but thankfully, he took it in stride and moved on without getting too hung up on this new information.  We got a great video of Randy Bill, his poor girlfriend and the three horses, but I didn’t pay for the upgrade to play video on WordPress, so you’ll have to take my word for it.  It was pretty darn funny!

When we got home, I put Pierce on the sofa to sleep a little more and Mikey and I went outside to let him play on his junky little battery operated three-wheeler.  It’s such a piece of crap, that I asked him if maybe he would finally like to try riding the bicycle that Grammy and Papa got for him TWO YEARS AGO!  My neurotic, chicken son has finally grown up a bit to the point where the idea of possible fun is stronger than the fear.  He practiced riding up and down the street for two hours!  We had such fun—he even asked to take the training wheels off!  We won’t be doing that for a bit yet, but tomorrow we are off to buy a helmet—maybe knee pads.  Lord knows that one bad fall, and he’ll never look at that bike again—remember the intestinal flu and trying to never poop again?  Yeah…something like that.  He did fall in slow motion a couple of times, today, but he took it in stride and got back on—one’ time he even played it up falling all the way to the ground and just lying there.  He definitely knows how to laugh at himself.  It’s was an interesting day with a wonderful new milestone—another chink in armor mommy’s safe embrace!  Independence is beginning to win a few, and it’s good…

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