I'm warning you now that this post mentions poop way more than once, so I wouldn't recommend eating anything while you're reading this.

I'm still here! Sammy was so generous as to share his little sickness with me, and we are just counting down the days until Steve's training ends.

My saint of a mother came up this past weekend and did many saintly things. The most impressive was scooping my son's poop out of the tub WITH HER BARE HANDS. This sets a precedent for mothering that I'm not sure I can ever (or want to) live up to. And yes, this was right after I told her that Sam had never pooped in the tub.
The night I told her that he had never peed on me before his bath was the night he decided to go all super-soaker on my pants.
And after telling her that he loves peas, he immediately decided that it was the most vile food ever planted on this earth.

My child is out to make me a huge liar apparently.

But it was not all bad! (Well, not for me at least. I can't speak for my mom.) Steve got to come home for 36 hours for a Superbowl DONSA. (I will not even go into how I feel about this as it would be a lot of all-caps and symbols that might give you the impression that I'm screaming at you, when in reality, I just want to scream at the command at this godforsaken post.) So! He came home. And then 20 minutes later, he left again. Well, it felt like 20 minutes. Such a tease. We DID, however, get to go on a date. My mom graciously offered to watch the whiner while we went out on Sunday to run errands. (Oh the joy of running errands without time constraints! and diapers to check! and sippy cup levels to worry about! and nap schedules to work around! and buckling the resistant small person into his carseat! It was pure HEAVEN.)

It was so nice just hanging out with Steve. I LOVE MY HUSBAND. Being alone with him makes me totally remember why I married this handsome hunk o' man. We talked, laughed, browsed, people-watched, shared a pretzel, saw a movie, made jokes, attempted to figure out the future (but that proved to be entirely too much thinking for a weekend), had dinner OUT, commented on how weird it felt to be out of the house past dark, looked around in a panic whenever we heard someone else's kid cry, talked about Sam, listened to music, high-fived after Steve scored a major deal (at Babies R Us- OMG we are such LOSERS), and then yawned when we realized it was almost 8pm. We caught Sam still up (again, Saint Mama working miracles right before our eyes, as he usually goes to bed at 6:30), said goodnight to him, and caught the last couple minutes of the Superbowl. Then we passed out cold because we were worn out from all of our freedom.

I can't say enough awesome things about my mom. I know, I know, she's my mom and I'm probably a thousand percent biased, but she's just so helpful! And my kid's incessant whining doesn't seem to phase her! And she even wanted to learn how to wash the diapers! And she let me go to the commissary alone! And she brought chocolate gooey bars! And did I mention that she pulled Sam's turdlets out of the bathtub WITH HER BARE HANDS?! <sigh> It was sad to watch her go. And I feel all kinds of awful because I didn't take a single picture while she was here. (Sorry Mama!)

So that's where we've been the past few days. We're on the road to recovery (hopefully) with this ear infection, snot-nosed, chest congestion crap, and if I didn't have to pee every 0.8 seconds (I'm now 33+ weeks! Someone hold me), we might be able to go somewhere or do something (although we will need to venture out soon for more toilet paper and tissues). But for now, we are hanging out at home, watching our neighbors move out. Great entertainment with the movers going in and out of the house, the big truck backing into the cul-de-sac, and their little dog losing his ever-lovin' mind in the backyard at all of the activity. We've got a playdate this afternoon to take a walk and play on the playground and hit up the shoppette for a 69 cent fountain drink during "happy hour." So obviously, life is fabulous.