Cheeks

This picture cracks me up. My boy is pretty skinny. Muscular, solid, but skinny. But his cheeks! He still has cute, chunky, baby cheeks and I adore them. They make him look younger, sweeter. As long as he has baby cheeks, I can pretend he's a baby (it's getting harder to do, what with the talking and the attitude and the inappropriate potty humor.)

So this picture of my boy and my Moe, snuggled on the couch. They're adorable. But it's hilarious because Jack looks soooo chunky in it. And really? It's just the cheeks.

I love these boys.

Falling

J was standing on a box. He fell off, landing on his feet, knocking over a cup of water.

I hurt me, he said in a normal voice.

Pause.

I got all wet, he sobbed.

I love this little goose. I love this little life.

My best friend

My little guy is the most magical, giggly person imaginable. He loves everything and is so enthusiastic about it all.

Saturday, we were snuggling, and he looked over and said,

"I'm playing with my best friend Mommy."

Melt.

We snuggled a lot this weekend.
My two favorite boys.

Cleaning

I've come up with this crazy idea.

I don't have to be perfect!

Wait. Hear me out. I know I'm a long way from perfect. But, see, I'm a lazy perfectionist. I don't do anything unless I can do it all and do it perfectly, and since that doesn't happen, I don't do anything.

This morning I came to a new decision.

I will work on cleaning and organizing my house for one hour most days.

Today, I got our bedroom cleaned -in a don't look under the bed or in the closet way, but still. Daniel came home and our room looked nice.

The rest of the house? Still a post Christmas disaster.

But that's OK. I'll get to it when I get to it. There's no need to stress.

Messes will wait.

Quiet

I napped and listened to the rain and Christmas music this morning. Too late night, too early morning. So I got back in bed once I got the boy to school.

He came home from school, we watched the (original) Grinch, snuggled, and now he's running around like a wild person while I read blogs.

It's been a day where nothing gets done. And we're happy.

Did I say quiet? J is now running around, naked, jingle bell around his neck, superJ cape on his back and mask on his eyes. He's SuperNakedChristmasMonkey! Are other kids nudists?

Meow

Jack is wandering around, looking for scuttles, yelling, "Kitty, Kittycat, where are you? Kitty, Kitty, meow, meow."

Moving on

I met with Heather last night. Daniel was on the premises but obsessing over work and so... It was just me. And a post-nap-cranky-monkey.
She looked at my chart (my last cycle was 75 days y'all). She discussed what I wanted (to get knocked up, dammit, now that my depression has been cured by gallbladder removal). And sent me off with the promise that she would call the doctor and tell him her recommendations.
What recommendations? Oh. Based on my chart (75 days, people!) and my weight (um, over) and my history (wacky and random cycles followed by 17 months of ttc), she thinks he should prescribe metformin for insulin resistance/probable PCOS. And possibly progesterone cream.
Fun.
Of course the phrase "insulin resistance"gives me heart palpitations as I picture my (late) obese, diabetic grandmother.
But, according to Heather, treatng now will help to ward off diabetes. God, I hope so.
So I am  sitting in a waiting room, waiting for Dr. R and hoping all goes well. Praying for so much.
We will see.