Epic hair...

Check out Sam's post-nap afro.  I prayed and prayed for his curls--God certainly delivered.  I love them so much. 

Blah...

It's not been a fun weekend, folks.  I take that back--it started out fun, but ended pretty miserably.  Friday night we actually paid for a babysitter and went out to eat with some friends.  We had a great time...until about 5:45 Saturday morning.  That's when I got sick--really sick.  I'm talking 12 hours of not-keeping-anything-down-I-didn't-realize-my-toilet-looked-like-this-please-God-make-it-stop-vomit.  I could hardly stand up I was so weak.  TMI? Probably...you'll just have to forgive me.  I feel better today, mainly thanks to a phenergan I was able to keep down long enough to take effect.  I am still tired, and my whole body is sore. 

While I was sickly, my sweet husband took care of Sam, me, and the house.  He got me anything I needed and was Dr. Dad for the day.  However, when I finally emerged from our bedroom this morning, it looked like Geoffrey the Giraffe had gotten sick all over our living room. I give you exhibit A:

No, our house is not in Baghdad, and no, we were not burglarized.  This is how much damage an almost-2-year-old can do when everyone is just trying to survive.  He had "colored" all over the tile floor, gotten out every ball he owns, broken his chair, and dumped his blocks out in the center of the room.  Walking through there was like dodging land mines.  Notice the bar stools on their sides...that's because Sam climbs up them and gets on the counter.  He thinks it's hilarious to do this over and over.  We don't. 

Exhibit B: 

I thought you might get an even better idea of the destruction if you saw a different angle.  Can you believe the mess?  I promise my house usually looks better than this.  After about an hour and 1/2 of clean-up, it was finally back to normal.  Moral of the story--I shouldn't get sick again.  Ever.

From the mouths of babes...

Sam is pretty much a parrot these days, so we're having to watch every word that comes out of our mouths.  I'm not sure that we're doing a great job with that, though.  Yesterday Sam had some funk on his nose, so I got a wipe to clean up his face.  As I was scraping away the nastiness, he pointed to his nose and said, "boogers."  Lovely.  I'm pretty sure his daddy taught him that one because I know I didn't. 

As pretty much everyone knows, we got quite a bit of snow last week, and I have failed to put up our snow pictures.  I apologize. I'm sure you've been dying to see Sam in action.  Sambo wasn't too thrilled with the cold.  It probably has something to do with the "snowball" his daddy threw at him, but that's just my guess.  Some tears were shed after that. 

Lately he's gotten very particular about his hands being messy, so that probably also jaded his opinion of the white stuff.  I don't think that he'll like building sandcastles this summer if this phase continues.  Seeing how he deals with the beach ought to be a hoot.

Before his dad threw snow at him.  Notice my use of his socks for gloves.  Classy.

Post snowball = not happy.

I love this hat--I think it's hilarious.  I got it on sale at the Gap a few weeks ago for $5.  Best purchase ever.

He wasn't too sure about the snowman.  I guess it is kind of creepy if you think about it.

Seriously?

Not a fun week in the Sherman household.  We kicked off Monday with a lovely fever of 102 for the Samster and a nice little ear infection.  Needless to say, he did not attend "school" on Tuesday.  I had high hopes that he would be able to go on Thursday and attend his  Valentine's Party on Friday.  No such luck. 

Homeboy decided to toss, turn, and scream all night long last night--possibly worse than he ever did as a little-bitty-baby.  We chalked it up to heading into the terrible-twos...until we changed his diaper this morning.  In case you mothers (and fathers) out there didn't know,  you can get hand, foot, and mouth disease more than once.  We discovered this lovely bit of info firsthand this morning.  Not cool...not cool at all.  We will have to essentially quarantine the kid for the next few days, which means I may lose my mind.  I may be the only person in America whose kid has gotten this twice. I'm sure I"ll be nominated for Mother of the Year.

On top of all this fun, they are now predicting "White Death '10"  to hit sometime tomorrow or Friday.  I'm all for a good snow, especially since we don't ever see the fluffy stuff, but it's February.  In Mississippi, I think that should count as spring.  Don't you think?

I have no fun news to report.  Sorry to disappoint.  I would appreciate it if anyone has suggestions for keeping my baby comfortable while this stuff runs its course...again. 

I'm off to Lysol my house. 

Shave and a haircut...

Actually there was no shaving involved--just a haircut. That's right, people. Haircut. After 20 months of sweet, untouched, baby curls, we had to shape things up a tiny bit. To say that I was a little uptight about it is an understatement.

I took Sam to the salon and proceeded to be the over-the-top parent that I always dreaded. I talked to the girl for 10 minutes beforehand to make sure that Sam didn't end up looking like some sort of monk. I did not want monk hair.

I mean, seriously? I don't know anybody that could carry off this look.

I just wanted the tiniest trim so that his curls wouldn't be quite so shagtastic. After conveying that I would go Linda Blair on the stylist if she went too short or gave him monk hair, she started to trim. I must admit, she did a good job.

Sam was pretty good, too. She gave him a sucker, and he was putty in her hands. I have no idea where he gets his penchant for sugar because his father and I are complete health nuts. We certainly don't dig through our pantry and eat baking chocolate chips when there's nothing sweet in the house. Certainly not.

So, I've survived another parenting hurdle. I'm so proud.