This will have to do.

Oops.  I kind of stopped blogging there for a few weeks.  I have a lot to say, but I'm watching TV with my husband right now, so none of it will make any sense.  Therefore, I give you some pictures and videos from the last week or so:

Ben likes ice cream.  Like, a whooooole lot.

We tagged along on our college group's Spring retreat and got to play in a hot spring pool.

 

 

Then it was Easter, and there was snow. And a toddler who didn't want his picture taken.

I don't look this hugely pregnant in person.  Yikes.

And, finally, here is Ben's explanation of why we celebrate Easter:

 

Springtime, you've been a bad friend to us.

I thought it was really sweet that Ben liked to sleep with Pippo the sock monkey.  Until this morning, when I had to clean puke off Pippo's surface-wash-only body.  Poor Ben can't catch a break this Spring.  He just got over RSV (his case seemed very mild, so it wasn't the end of the world), and now he has some sort of stomach nastiness.  And, naturally, he is growing another canine tooth.  Few things in toddler-parenting are worse than the canine teeth, but having stomach nastiness on top of teeth-growing most definitely qualifies as worse. 

Ben seems to get sick most often on Fridays, when I have to decide whether to take him to the doctor immediately (and find out it's nothing) or take my chances over the weekend.  I'm opting to take my chances this time because I think he just ate something that didn't sit well with his little tummy.  Namely, "fluffy stuff" from the deli counter at King Soopers.  Every time I buy lunch meat lately, the fluffy stuff looks so good to me -- this would be some mysterious combination of Cool Whip, fruit, marshmallows, and pudding mix that is generally disliked by everyone except retirement-home dwellers and me.  So I bought a container of orange fluffy stuff yesterday and shared some with Ben at lunchtime.  After seeing how it looks in diaper (again and again and again) and vomit forms, the fluffy stuff no longer holds any appeal for me.


Ben gave a few indications last night that he wasn't feeling great, but I mostly blamed the pesky tooth and thought he would sleep off anything else that was bothering him.  Incorrect.  I heard him whimpering several times last night (not uncommon when he's teething) and finally gave in and checked on him around 2:30.  When I walked into his room, he was standing with his head laid on the top of his crib rail.  He looked up at me and said, "Sad."  And my heart immediately melted into a puddle of I'll do whatever is necessary to keep you from ever being sad ever again ever.

Unfortunately, that included cleaning poop off of 75% of his horribly diaper-rashed body and pajamas AND changing vomited-upon crib sheets.  On two and a half hours of sleep.  Motherhood is very glamorous, in case you haven't heard.


Maybe this is selfish, but there is a teeny bit of silver lining in this for me:  my active little man is suddenly all about snuggling with Mom.  When I finally got him cleaned up and ready to go back to bed last night, he just wanted to cuddle in the rocking chair with me.  And when he protested going back in his crib, my puddle heart couldn't take it. So I held him the rest of the night.  I eventually gave up and took him to my bed, where I slept with him curled up on top of me.  Best two hours of bad sleep I have ever had.


Even as an adult, I totally sympathize with the need to be close to your mom when you feel crummy.  Being on the Mom end of that feeling, though?  It's pretty amazing.  God is gracious to use the especially un-glamorous parts of motherhood to remind you how precious it is to love your child.

I tried to give Ben some silver lining, too.  If he has to be naked and air things out anyway, he might as well get a little messy, right?

(He looks very neat here, but don't be fooled.)