27
Jan

bee ee double el

I’m in Logan. At Mikelle’s.

Belly Bum has been sick. RSV.

He’d been coughing for a week and crying out in pain. Each time Mikelle called me I could hear him fussing and hurting and crying. They took him to the hospital night before last because he has been having such a hard time breathing, where they put a catheter up Easton’s nose and suctioned out his throat to clear it out and instructed how to keep his nose and throat more cleaned out. They measured his oxygen levels and taught Mikelle how suction out his throat with the bulb syringe. They explained RSV to Logan and Mikelle and told them what they need to be looking for.

But he had a good day yesterday and a good night. He is one happy little guy this morning. And believe me, we’ve sung and swung and played since 6 a.m. And then I showered with both bathroom doors shut and him laying in a little booster thingy so he could use all the steam to soften and clear all the gunk in his little chest. Then Mikelle took a long hot shower for his little chest. He fell asleep in his bouncy chair.

Last night we rolled around and sang and played jumping, jumping, jumping spiders and gave approximately one thousand raspberries on the big belly. He slobbered right back and inadvertently gave me a swift blow to the side of the head with his little punching rabbit foot which retracts back into place as quickly as it fires off a shot to the temple.

I refuse to take it personally.

Kelle’s house is spotless and she had homemade chili, an amazingly delish salad with poppy-seed dressing and cornbread with real butter and her mother-in-law’s strawberry freezer jam waiting for us. When Logan came in, after hugs and kisses and friendly welcome-home chat she said, “Honey, is that a string on the carpet? No over here closer, no, back, yes, right there. Could you please do me a big favor and put it in the garbage?” She was nursing at the moment and couldn’t get to it.

Seriously. A little thread of a string.

Later when she was changing a diaper she said, “Is that a little piece of lettuce on the floor?”

Before she went to bed she had to straighten up, have all the dishes in the dishwasher, a batch of laundry started, the bathrooms perfect. That’s how she copes. It’s a wonder she can sleep at all. I’m sure she worries all night long that something might — somehow — go askew during the wee hours.

ME? 144 on her scale [no way to know how accurate it is.] Showered, dressed, brushed, exercised, facebooked. Ready to conquer, save and shop. It’s how I cope.

So thrilled to be here enjoying the little guy, making up songs that suit, producing ridiculous noises to find a tiny smile, and blowing more raspberries than could possibly be within the law on the big bare belly. Another quick kick to the Adam’s apple.

You know the Kelloggs song:
Good Morning. Good Morning.
The best to you each morning
K E double L,
O double good
Kellogg’s best to you.

I sing it like this:
Good Morning. Good Morning.
The best to you each morning
B E double L,
Y double bum
G’morning Belly Bum!

I thought that was something you should know.