Somber Sunday: CouldaWouldaShoulda

There was a dead baby bird on the sidewalk today. More of a fetus, really. No feathers. Slimey. Fragile, tiny and sad. I wasn't sure if I wanted my kids to notice it, so I ushered them inside and promptly forgot about it.

I saw it again a few hours later and wondered if I should dispose of it somehow. But then my baby loudly reminded me that he was hungry, and I was off again.

Later this evening, as we were going out for a family walk, my 3-year-old pointed out a "pack of ants." They had found the bird. I felt terrible, especially when my son wanted to know what it was they were surrounding. Ugh. There wasn't anything I could have done to save the little guy, but I wish I would have done something to help it go out with more dignity.

Safety First

Our lawnmower tends to spit.

 

Thankfully, swim goggles protect your eyes from all kinds of things.

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Surgical Drama

I have had an annoying number of throat maladies recently.

Tomorrow, I am seeing an ENT about a tonsilectomy.

I have heard several disturbing accounts of what this can entail. 

Google it. Eek.

But if it can mean the difference between 

Me as the Ickified Strep Mom:

versus Me as the Happified Non-strep Mom:

So worth it, right?!

UPDDATE: Doc says I am a good candidate for surgery, but I've decided to wait it out, hopefully forever. If I get strep one more time though, I may reconsider. Hooray for prolonging the, in the words of my doctor: "heinous sore throat and nasty recovery time!"

MIA in REM

I thought my 3-year-old was sleeping in his bed.

He wasn't.

I checked my bed, but he wasn't there either.

But wait...

Sweet dreams are made of this.
Who am I to disagree?

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UPDATE: The above photos are actually from a couple nights ago. Tonight, my husband was upstairs working on his computer, when he heard a strange noise. He thought it was the (often loud) birds outside.

Nope.

Next Time: Fake Feathers

My son likes to get crafty. 

He was out playing in the yard. 

Then he was in the office. 

Then there was this:

It's a chicken.

I think it's a pretty good rendition.

But you might think too good, 

if you see what's tangled up in those feathers.

Zippity Zap, Somebody Busted a Cap

I love my husband.

Electronics don't.

Hence, all tv, stereo, and computer (etc) concerns
default to me.

Or at least they did.

Until this:

electrocution burn.