Handbags and sickos

Hey Wavy,

I must have this purse. Went into Target today and first thing when I walk in the door, there's a display of handbags by uber-chi chi handbag designer Rafe (he's Filipino!), who now has a for-the-unwashed-masses line for Tar-zhay, ala Isaac Mizrahi. Sure, it's not technically real leather per se, but that's why it only costs $49.99, rather than his usual $500 or so.

I skulked around the store for about an hour, winding up in front of this purse a half dozen times. I slipped it on (oooh, it felt nice). Developed a hatred for my current handbag.

returning to this post two days later, still purse-less...

Took you to your two-month checkup yesterday. You were supposed to get shots (yeah, I'm one of those horrible Mothers of the Apocalypse who thinks her children should be vaccinated), but Dr. S held off because you haven't felt well for a couple of days and you had a little fever.

She asked me if you were spitting up or if you were vomiting. I asked what the difference was between the two. Well -- I certainly found out last night. "Spitting up" is chunks flowing gently from your mouth. That's easy; that's what you've been doing all along. "Vomiting" is the high-impact gusher that you sprayed all over me this morning at about 3am.

Then -- get this:

Your brother fell asleep in bed with us last night. When your daddy came to get him to put him in his own bed, I told him that it was all right, he could sleep with us for the night. So at 5 this morning, HE wakes up moaning and groaning and spraying vomit everywhere.

So I finally got the two of you to go back to sleep and that's where you are now, asleep in your own filth:



Relax! I'll get everybody and everything washed later when you're both awake.

Jake is supposed to meet with a speech pathologist at the elementary school today, but I guess that's not going to happen.

Love you. I'll check in with you both later. Meanwhile, here's a cute picture I took of Jake yesterday in his inappropriate new nap spot: