I'm friggin' fantastic. How are you?

Over the last several days, my part-time nanny gave notice due to a scheduling change by her university, my child came down with some mysterious red bumps that we originally thought might be chicken pox but now think must be due to some bloodthirsty bugs in the house that we can't find and only bite babies, my windshield cracked and is going to cost an arm and a leg to repair, and I became involved in a turf war with a Passat in my office parking garage over what appears to be the favorite parking space of us both (I won yesterday, but he/she beat me today because I turned off my alarm this morning, instead of hitting the snooze button, and I didn't wake up until Steve's alarm went off. An hour later. Needless to say, I was running a tad behind this morning. Damn Passat.).

Brigid appears to be unmoved by mommy's crappy string of luck, though...

Compassion does not appear to be one of her strengths.


Update: The other nanny candidate I had to turn down to hire the one who is now leaving? Still interested in the job! Awesome. And a relief.

I hated those stupid nanny interviews!


Entirely unrelated to all of this mess...happy birthday to the best mother in the world! I hope I do half as well with Brigid as you did with me (although, I guess maybe I'm jumping the gun assuming I turned out well?  nah, I'm going with it...you did an awesome job with me!). We love you!

Baby Personality Discussion, Part 2

In addition to Brigid's less than compassionate sense of humor, she has this other little personality trait that I'm not entirely fond of.

It turns out, my kid has a little bit of the daredevil flare to her. 

And I hate it, even more than I hate the rottenness.  Because let's be honest...the rottenness?  It's kind of adorable, at least for now.  The daredevilness?  Not so much.  Not now, and not ever.

She never had that moment of fear when she first stood up and realized she needed to get back down again, because she shows no fear.  She had no problem standing up.  And she had no problem letting go again.

*sob*

She tries to take a header off of the couch with absolutely no warning, every chance she gets. She flees for the stairs the minute she thinks we're not paying attention. She loves when Steve swings her around in circles, throws her up in the air, and carries her around the house on his shoulders.  She loves to throw herself backwards when I'm holding her so that she's hanging upside down in my arms.


When she is in the pool with Steve, and Steve decides to dunk her, she holds on to him and takes the dunking like a big girl.  No crying.  No fussing.

Um, I still cry when I get dunked.

Basically, I'm afraid this is all going to translate into roller coasters, cliff jumping, and motorcycles.
Because that's a legitimate concern when your eleven month old likes to hang upside down, right?

Nobody ever said that motherhood was rational, people.

It just doesn't seem fair...

Brigid is becoming quite the little card these days.  The kid has developed this sense of humor that, while it cracks me up now, I feel like I might not be entirely on board with when she gets a little older.

She locks her legs so I can't get her into her high chair, then laughs at me while I struggle.


She spits food out, gets in on her grandmother, then laughs when her grandma says 'oh no!' in surprise.


She feeds the dogs, sneakily, under her high chair tray, then giggles when I figure out what is going on and shoo them away.


She holds up her cheek for a kiss, then turns away with a smile when you come in to give her one.


She giggles when she farts.


She makes a beeline for the (icky, hair covered, off-limits to baby) dog bed, then lays in it, laughing, until I come to get her out of it.


She comes thisclose to falling asleep in my arms, then she smiles and pulls herself up into a standing position the very moment I put her into her crib for the night.


It cracks her up when my mother-in-law says 'ouch!' after hurting herself.


She cracks herself up by throwing toys into hard to reach places, then watching me try to get them back out again.

Basically, she is rotten, through and through, this kid.

So she got her dad's looks, and her dad's personality, I guess.

I swear to all, the next one* had better take after me somehow, or I'm sending it back!


*Whenever we get around to having a next one, that is.  This isn't any sort of announcement or anything...

Why is it only Wednesday?!?!?

So, I've heard from a couple people with advice on how to manage air travel with a baby, but I'm always open to more suggestions. So, if you haven't weighed in yet, please do! I have had several people suggest something along the lines of baby Benadryl for the flight, but Steve has all of these 'views' on 'parenting', so we probably won't be doing that. Unless she gets really, really fussy before takeoff, that is...

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Brigid is almost a year old. One. Year. Old. So very, very, very weird for me to think about. I am, of course, planning the best first birthday ever...because, why wouldn't I be? Who doesn't want to shell out for $100+ worth of Elmo decorations to be used during a small family/select friends birthday party that the guest of honor won't even understand, let alone remember? Not to mention the Elmo cake that, from the plans I've seen drawn up so far, will take approximately six to eight hours to decorate? Why wouldn't this make sense to everyone?

And if I get a pin the nose on Elmo birthday game that I make everyone play? With blindfolds? And spinning? So much the better.

------------------------------

I'm tired. Very, very tired. I haven't been this tired since I was pregnant. I was more tired during the newborn days, because waking up every 2-3 hours saps your will to live, but I'm getting close to that point. I'm not really sleeping any less than I have been, so I'm not sure if it's a poor sleep pattern thing or a nutritional deficiency thing. I either need to start sleeping in my own bed, away from dogs that don't understand the meaning of 'personal space' and 'sleeping through the night', or I need to get my iron levels checked. One of those has to be the culprit, no?

In any case, wake me when it's Friday, please.

Flying with a baby for the first time. Oh, dear lord, HELP!

In case the above title didn't quite get my point across, Steve and I will be taking a plane trip in about a week and a half. With a baby. For the first time. And I am just a tad nervous.

Or anxious beyond all imagination.

Or frightened out o' my gourd.

Or something along those lines. Except in reality, my scaredy-ness involves curse words, and I'm really trying to watch that since I read somewhere that babies get close to saying their first words around this time, and honestly? The last thing I need is for Brigid's first word to be of the four letter variety. Could you imagine spelling something like that out for her in the baby book?

Motherhood, FAIL.

Anyway, I'm looking for ideas. Thoughts. Opinions. I am looking for any help anyone who has every flown with any baby can offer. Advice on take-off and landing. Miracle solutions to calm a disturbed baby in-flight. Secret tricks for getting said baby and her massive amount of stuff through security. Quickly. On the Friday afternoon of a holiday weekend.

Oh, yeah. Did I mention that part? All of this will be taking place over Labor Day weekend. Because we like a challenge. And navigating through a billion and a half people in the world's worst airport seemed like the way to go. So, there's that.

The only thing we did do right (besides deciding to do this for the first time on a flight that is only an hour long) was score seats on the two person side of the plane. Short trip = small(er) plane = nobody stuck on the inside of our row, glaring at Steve and I because the screaming baby can't be comforted.

We'll just have the people across the aisle from us glaring because the screaming baby can't be comforted.

Small victories, people. Small victories.

Sunday Night Dinner

Last night, we did a family dinner out on the town.  And I have pictures.  Shocking, no?

First of all, it was not my decision to dress the poor child like a little boy.  I mean, I am of the opinion that you should support your team wearing your team's colors, and I've never been a fan of the whole pink jersey trend.  But when you're talking about a ten month old? And people call her a him, even when she's wearing a pink dress?  Then, I don't think the jean skirt is really going to be enough to set them straight with this get-up.

Second of all, I will fully admit that I should apologize to the older version of Brigid who someday comes back to read these stories and look at these pictures, because my attempt to feminize the whole look?  It didn't go quite as well as I had planned...

Goodness, almighty.  Looks like somebody may be going as baby Olivia Newton John for Halloween this year...

Oh, shopping...you used to be so much more fun!

Do you know what sounds like a much better idea than it actually turns out to be?  Taking a short trip to Target with a baby in tow.

I have to say, I very much miss the days of jumping in the car, running a quick errand, and calling it a day.  Now, that quick errand takes twice as long to prepare for as it actually takes to run.  And then, once you're finally in the store, you're afraid to stand in one place too long (like, for example, if you, for some unknown reason, decide to try to pick out a new hair straightener on this particular trip after your old one bit the dust at least a month ago) for fear that the fussing will start.  And if you do, by some miracle, make it out of the store before the baby reaches the end of her rope, you have to spend the ten minute drive home trying to shovel snacks into her mouth over your shoulder so she doesn't fall asleep, thereby rendering naptime nonexistent because you still haven't perfected the art of the carseat to crib transfer, even after all of these months.

But, sometimes, everything works out for you, and today just happened to be one of those days.  The trip is over, the things are bought, the baby is napping in the crib.  And I am super-mommy.  So there.

And, because I am me, I offer you the following photo essay, so you can see the many moods of baby B during the 30 minutes we spent in the store this morning...

Heading into the store, we were pretty excited...but I, of course, missed the smile she gave me, and ended up capturing this weird grimace/half-smile instead.  Because that's the kind of photographer that I am.

Brigid, she loves the stuff, that's for sure.  She takes after her mommy in that way.  When she actually gets old enough to do anything beyond point and grunt at the shelves, we may be putting an end to these trips, since I don't want to be the one trying to pull a screaming toddler up off of the ground after I tell her she can't have something.  I just have a feeling it might come to that...

That would be Brigid waving to Elmo.  Because, of course she is.

She started fading pretty quickly, poor kid, as we got closer to naptime.

And by the time we were checking out, she was over the whole thing.  But I think it was a good way to spend the morning, considering how easily she's been getting bored with her toys lately.

And now?  Napping peacefully, like a good little girl. 

Do I have good timing, or what?

The one where I try to make up for my terrible vacation pictures...

Just to prove to everyone that I can take pictures (sometimes, when I try really, really hard, that is), Brigid and I had a little fashion show last week.  See, Brigid has this green dress that I bought for her months ago with the innocence of a new parent who thinks she's going to put her infant in pretty dresses and frilly underoos every day once the weather warms up.  In reality, I am now the jaded mother of a mobile ten-month old who is lucky if I get her out of her sleeper at any point during the day, much less put her in any sort of clean or cute outfit.

So, this dress, it's been worn once.  Granted, the one time wearing occurred when we took her to get her pictures taken a couple of months ago, so I do have proof that the dress has been used, but still.  I needed to put her in it again, if only to justify my idiocy of buying it in the first place.  Dresses, especially longer dresses, are probably great for little girls who can walk.  Little girls who are only crawling?  Damn dress just gets in the way. 

I refused to be put off, though.  After her morning nap, I dressed her up and took her downstairs.  She hated the dress.  It caused her all sorts of problems when she tried to get around the family room, but she looked absolutely adorable trying, so I took pictures anyway.

Seriously...look at this kid!

Now that is a kid who needs her bangs cut!

Anyway, it all worked out for Brigid because I didn't think about taking the dress off before I fed her lunch about an hour later, and she finished up the meal with some grapes in her teething, mesh bag, fruit holder, ring thingy.  She was a hugely sticky mess, with juice stains all down the front of her, when all was said and done, so the dress came off.  And Brigid was free to roam the house nekkid once again.

But it's clean now, so you'd better believe she's going back into this outfit first chance I get!

Indiana Pictures!

Well, there is definitely a reason that Steve is the photographer of the family.  It turns out, I completely and totally suck at being responsible for documenting special events in our lives.  I took some pictures in Indiana, but, if I'm being completely honest, most of them are terrible.

However, I didn't entirely fail at the task, as I did manage to catch the general gist of the weekend, in just a couple of shots.  So, maybe I'm not a terrible photographer, after all.  Maybe I just have a knack for minimalist photo journalism.

Or, maybe not...

Anyway, there was time spent in the pool...

...and time spent on the back porch, eating popsicles.

There were some sweet shades, dude!

Basically, I'd say she had a good time...

Until next summer, kids!

Hey, look...another trip to the doctor!

Quick administrative note...I did take pictures when we were in Indiana. And video. So, yes, Jennie, I do have super cute, chubby baby, bathing suit pictures to share.

However, they are all still on the camera, and not on the computer where I can get to them to do said sharing. Because I am lazy. And can't figure out how to get the darn pictures to upload themselves, with no work on my part. But I will get them up.

At some point.

------------------------------

We went to the cardiologist last Thursday (and I totally meant to post this update on Friday, but, you know...lazy, remember?), and apparently everything still looks fine. At one point, in one of our previous visits, they were worried about the possibility that one chamber of the heart was becoming enlarged due to pressure caused from the blood flow through the hole, but she had an EKG, and it seems that whatever abnormality they were seeing is gone. So, good news there.

On the other hand, it also seems that we've (emotionally) scarred our child for life with all of these vaccines and shots she's been stuck with because the minute the doctor hit the hand sanitizer and rubbed his hands together, Brigid lost her mind. There was screaming involved, and all the poor man wanted to do was listen to her heart. Luckily (I guess, since it means the hole is so small), the murmur is loud enough that he could hear it over her crying, because she didn't calm down again until he left the room. She either associates hand sanitizer with needles, or she hates the stethoscope. Either way, the doctor doesn't seem to think she has a problem with her lungs, and we will not be getting RSV vaccination shots this fall/winter.

Brigid's weight was 21lbs 2oz, right about at the 75th percentile, and her length was 28 1/4 inches, right about at (or slightly above) the 50th percentile. So she gained 4oz and grew 3/4 of an inch in 3 weeks? Do kids really grow that quickly? Insanity.

Anyway, we're set for another year, I guess. The doctor wants us to come back next summer for an ultrasound, and beyond that, we'll just wait and see. Maybe the hole will close completely, maybe it won't. All I know is we have an adorably healthy baby...what more could we want?

Besides, it's not like it's slowing her down at all...

Crazy kid.

This, from the crazy whose iPod cycled through the ND Fight Song, two Christmas songs, something from the Newsies soundtrack, and a New Kids in the Block song yesterday...

Steve and I rounded out our summer concert experience last night, heading to the Tom Petty show at Philips Arena here in Atlanta. We have now officially done one concert that we both loved this year, one concert more for me, and one concert more for Steve. Don't get me wrong, I love Tom Petty, and I always have a fantastic time at his shows, but this was definitely a 'can't miss' evening for Steve. So we made sure we didn't miss it.

In fact, we basically sat on the stage so as not to miss it...

See that right there? See how close we were? Let's just say I had a much clearer view of Tom Petty than most people ever really need...

And see how far I had to walk to get to a bathroom?

You can't even see how far I had to walk to get to a bathroom. That's how far it was.

Steve was thrilled.

Anyhoo...

You know how they say you learn something new everyday?

Well, yesterday I learned that I am not such a big fan of Crosby, Stills, and Nash. Seriously. The dudes opened for Petty last night, and they honestly almost put me to sleep.

While I can appreciate a good guitar solo as much as the next guy (as long as the next guy hasn't picked up a guitar in his entire life, either), I don't need to hear an entire set list made up of 20 minute songs, especially when 15 of that 20 minutes consists of 6 guys standing on stage making weird facial expressions while watching one guy play the guitar. Even if that one guy playing the guitar is good like Stephen Stills. I can handle maybe one or two of these songs, but that's where I draw the line. I lean more towards the good drum solo side of things, if you must know. Or maybe just the loud drum solo side of things. I've never picked up a drumstick in my life, either, so who am I to say what's good and what isn't?

(Also on my list of things I don't need? An organ solo. Not a piano. Not a keyboard. An organ. I mean, what??)

Whatever. Care to guess what else I learned last night? Graham Nash is English. Neil Young is Canadian. Stills is from Texas, and David Crosby is from California. Yes, I wikipedia'd these fools during one of the 17 guitar solos. (I'm probably pretty lucky the waaaay more into it than I was people around me didn't take this as a personal offense and try to drag me from the arena.) Also, did you know Neil Young and freaking Rick James were in a band together in the 60s? You do now. It was apparently a disaster, involving a thieving manager, military AWOL-ness, and the FBI. Good times.

I love Wikipedia.

So, to sum up the evening:

*Tom Petty = AWESOME!

*Crosby, Stills, and Nash = eh...

*Sitting on the floor = totally worth the extra ticket costs (especially after listening to the encore from farther up so we could avoid the mad rush of people trying to get up the stairs when the concert was officially over...it was a completely different (and less entertaining) show from that level).
*Being able to offer my extra hair tie to the extremely long-haired gentleman in front of me when he gave his up for his wife's use = highlight of my night!

*Not drinking at a concert = ridiculously entertaining experience, especially when you can be all judgey, judgey with the drunk dancing happening around you.

*Going to bed at 12:30am and getting up at 5:30am to head to work = not something this 30-year old enjoys as much today as the 20-something she used to be did in the past. Even without the drinking, it's tough.

Thank goodness today is my Friday!

Back home again, in Indiana...

Hey-o!

I am back, y'all...back to the world of internet connections, cable, and cell phone service. I'm back to work, back to laundry, and away from the pool. I am no longer on 24-hour baby duty.

And, truth be told, it all kind of sucks.

Brigid and I had a fantastic time at the parental compound back in Indiana. Many, many, many thanks and my undying love and devotion to my parents for driving to Atlanta and back (and most especially to my mother, who did it twice within a week!) to pick us up so that I didn't have to make the 10+ hour trip with Brigid by myself. Because that? Most definitely would not have worked. Unless I am sitting right next to that kid, shoveling food into her mouth and cycling through every. single. toy. that I brought for her at 30 second intervals (that 30 seconds being the amount of time each toy would keep her occupied before she became bored and dropped it down into the crack between her seat and the car door, right out of my reach), there is an ungodly amount of screaming involved in traveling with her. Even with all of my amazing skills at distraction, there's still some shrieking going on, so I don't plan on taking too many Brigid/mommy roadtrips on my own any time soon.

Anyway, the trip was exactly what you'd expect from a few days in the country. I never used a blow dryer. I think I put on make-up once. I spent most of the days in my swimsuit. Brigid spent almost the entire time in nothing but a diaper. We were outside nonstop. There were popsicles involved. Ice cream! Watermelon! Wine!*

We lost power twice, and because of that, I actually went to bed at 8:30 one night. It was amazing.

We lost Brigid's white noise machine during one of these outages, and I downloaded an app on my iPhone to replace it. With my phone pulling double duty during sleep time, I wasn't checking Twitter or email or Facebook every five minutes like I normally do. It was refreshing.

Brigid would wake-up, eat breakfast, play for a little bit. She'd take her morning nap, wake up, eat again. We'd get in the pool for at least an hour. She'd go down for another nap, and most days I'd have to go wake her up after a couple of hours for fear she wouldn't go back to sleep that night. She'd eat again and jump back in the pool for another hour.** A little more playing, a little dinner, a bath, and off to bed for the night. Then we'd wake up and do it all over again the next day. The last night we were there? It took everything we had to get Brigid out of the pool after she'd been in for something close to two hours. Her grandpa would hand her out to her grandma, and that kid would reach right back out for grandpa, begging to get back in. I'm not sure if you understand how the whole grandparent thing works, but when the grandchild reaches out to the grandparent, asking for something? The grandchild will get it 9.9 times out of 10. We finally put a stop to it when I realized it was after 7pm, and we were getting dangerously close to the point where Brigid is so overtired she refuses to sleep. I hate that point.

The first day back in Atlanta, with my mother-in-law watching her, Brigid took a three hour nap in the morning followed by a two hour nap in the afternoon. Nonstop fun is exhausting.

We had a barbecue with the extended family. Brigid spent time with her various great-grandparents. There were new people everywhere. There was a minute where it seemed to be too much for the poor kid, where the number of people talking to her seemed to overwhelm her. She's good with meeting new people a few at a time. That many, descending on her all at once? We had our first 'cling to mommy' moment. But grandma took her off to play for a few minutes, and she came back as good as new. I remain shocked at how quickly she warms up to people.

I loved spending so much time with her. I loved spending so much time with my family. I loved that Brigid seemed to love spending so much time with my family.

She would wave good morning to everyone when she woke up. She'd wave good night when she went to bed. She talked nonstop. She gave out more kisses than I'd ever seen her give out. I personally received more kisses last week than I'd received in her first ten months combined.

I like to think that was her way of thanking me for taking her up there.

And Miss B? Believe me, you are welcome.

I hope we can do it again next year!

*The wine was for me, not for Brigid. In case I needed to clarify...
**Brigid, she loves the water. She is a swimmer, that girl. Seriously, she kicks and paddles like a pro, and she absolutely doesn't mind getting water in her face. I'm ready to find someone to teach her how to hold her breath and float, because I'm pretty sure I couldn't keep her out of the pool if I tried, and the sooner she learns how to swim, the better I'll feel!

Ten Months

Yes, I know I'm a day late on this, but we just spent a very nice couple of days in Indiana swimming and eating and playing outside, while completely avoiding t.v. and phones and internet. It was awesome, and you loved it, so I know you forgive me for my lazy posting. Plus, I'm your mom, so you have to forgive me. That's the way these things work, kiddo.

Anyway, you turned ten months old yesterday, and we celebrated with french fries at a McDonald's somewhere in Tennessee. I think you would have preferred the french fries without the 10 hour car ride that surrounded them, but sometimes you take what you can get. Once again, you grew by leaps and bounds this month, enjoying your first playdate and spending your first weekend away from your mom and dad. I was worried that there might be some separation anxiety when your dad and I left you for our trip to Denver, but I knew it would be solely on our side of things, as you are perfectly content hanging out with or without us. And you know what? I was right. One trip to Toys R Us and a dinner at Don Pablos later, and you may have actually been disappointed when daddy and I got home.

Oh, what else happened this month?

TEETH!! You grew teeth. Two, to be exact. Just when I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever get any of those suckers in your lifetime, you popped two out, one right after the other. And the fussiness and nightly wake-up calls? Maybe, possibly, finally explained. And maybe, possibly, finally on hold. At least until the next round of teething commences. So, no hurry or anything. I'm fine with just the two, thanks.

We hit your nine month check-up a few weeks late, and the doctor informed us that we needed to work on transitioning you to adult food. And wouldn't you know? Your dad was all over that request. And you've been pretty excited about it yourself. You started off a little slow, but I think you've finally come around to the joys of textured foods. You love mushrooms and avocados and pureed cauliflower. You are all for cooked apples and grilled cheese and tofu and eggs. Spaghetti and meatballs? Yes, please. Popsicles? You seem a little tentative at first, what with the whole coldness factor, but you get over that after one taste. Pasta, peas, carrots, bananas, animal crackers, pancakes, sweet potatoes? Keep it coming. I'm impressed with the variety of foods you can put away, honestly, and I just hope you can keep it up. I think your dad would be incredibly disappointed if you were a picky baby.

You can pick Elmo out of a crowd. You can crawl up the stairs. You are walking around, using the furniture for support. You are considering stepping away from that furniture support, but you're not quite there, yet. And really, I'm not quite there, yet, either. You sing and dance and wave 'hi' and 'bye-bye' like a crazy woman. You are talking up a storm now. I'm not exactly sure what you are saying, but it seems important, so I keep listening. In fact, I have to keep listening. If you feel like we're not hanging on your every word, you give a little (LOUD!) shriek to bring our attention back to you. We found this out the hard way when we tried to take you out to dinner a couple of weeks ago. I'm not so sure our fellow diners appreciated this, and I can only hope you don't try it when we take you on your first plane ride in a month.

You tried to give Peyton a kiss (open mouthed, of course) when you got back from Indiana last night, you were so excited to see her. Riley kissed you before you could get to her because she was too excited to wait her turn. You were ridiculously excited to see your toys.

You're still the same happy baby you've always been, and I couldn't ask for anybody more fun to spend my time with.

Happy birthday, Bug!

I love you.

Let's be honest...after all of this work, I'm totally expecting the second coming of Mary Poppins here.

It looks as though the prolonged nanny search has officially come to an end! We've found someone long-term to cover our open Thursdays time slot with little Miss B! Of course, that's if, by long-term, you mean August-October, with a break in November for some full-time student teaching, then back on again in December, until we lose her to more student teaching in her final semester of school! And considering we've been going week-to-week here for a couple of months, I absolutely consider that long-term.

This is how far I've fallen.

The search, it has done me in, that's for sure. We've joined childcare provider websites. We've posted the job three times. We've had a ton of applicants. We've done several interviews. We found one lady that seemed like a great fit for us, until we discovered she'd been married five times. And I'm not sure that would have been a deal breaker for us, had her nanny profile not made it seem like she had been married to one man for 30 years. Interestingly enough, a creatively worded profile designed to hide some past life choices you'd wish to forget is not what I'm looking for when I'm hiring someone to watch my child. In my house. Without me around.

But it's all over now, at least for the next five months. We found not one, but TWO people that we liked in this phase of job postings, and I've made the offer to one of the candidates, and she's accepted, and I couldn't be happier. Except for that part where I now have to call the other person that I really, really liked, and tell her that while I really, really liked her, I just really, really liked the other girl better. And that kind of sucks. It's like having the break-up conversation, and do you know how long it's been since I've had the break-up conversation? Let's just say it's been awhile. I'm out of practice, and to be honest, I wasn't really all that good at it in the first place. I don't know how the kids are doing it these days. Can I still use the 'It's not you, it's me' and the 'I'd like it if we could still be friends' (or in this case, 'I'd like it if I could still call you to baby-sit in the evenings sometimes') lines?

Or better yet, can't I just pawn this whole thing off on my husband instead? That seems like a much better option to me...

*****

PS: Brigid and I are leaving for Indiana this week, to spend a few days at the parental compound, which is waaaay out in the country. The kind of country where anything beyond a dial-up internet connection does not exist. So...yeah. See you next week, I guess.