For those of you actually keeping up with my blogging, I sincerely apologize for the lack of updates. My excuse, such that it is, is that I decided not to make another post until I finished reading and reviewing the book that BloggingforBooks.com sent me. Rather than the desired effect of me finishing the book and quickly posting another spellbinding blog, the decision resulted in a wonderful delaying tactic. And I still don't have a review to post.
Now past the over-baked crust and on to the meat, cheese, sauce and grease of this pizza pie of a post. (I don't name these things the way I do for no reason)
My son has been sick lately. If any of you are friends of mine on facebook, you might have seen a post regarding this phenomenon. He was sick again today, and ended up going to bed much earlier than normal, just because he was feeling yucky. I thought of making rather a snide comment on facebook--to the effect of 'Pukey the wonder-baby strikes again,' but that would be me trying to earn a couple of insensitive chuckles at the expense of my ill child. Not cool.
I got to thinking about my son's lingering feelings of 'yucky' and that got me worried about the little guy. You hear horror stores (or maybe I'm just blowing my worry for my son way out of proportion) of little ones getting sick and never recovering, much to their parents' unending sorrow. This granted me an epiphany. I realized that I'm far more worried about my little boy being sick and not waking up in the morning (over-dramatic, I know) than I am about my own well-being. I'd rather take the proverbial bullet for my son than him even so much as scrape a knee. Now, stop me if you've heard this one before, but I'd do just about anything to make my little dude feel better.
Does this mean I'm a real parent now?
p.s.: that book review is on its way...
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