Earning My Carnation

Sick kids really make you earn that Mother’s Day carnation conferred by the cheery church greeter (in addition to the thirty-six cumulative hours of labor that qualified you for it). Needless to say, at present, the pharmacological dispensations in our home make me feel a bit like a bourgeois crack dealer. Rest assured, I speak in hyperbole and Tylenol rehab doesn’t carry the same stigma these days:)

So, in the interim of lethargic days of endless snot, I have procured a Johnny Jump-Up for my darling Caid. Save for the weight limit, I would gladly harness the infinite energy of Eowyn should she submit herself to dangling from a doorframe. Both of my children apparently disdain the serenity of simply being still. Specifically, Kincaid is circuit training going from Exersaucer to “tummy time” to Johnny Jump-up every ten minutes with regular feasting breaks to fuel his aerobics. Evidently, “Exersuacing” is his favorite pastime concurrently affording him visual access to Fox News Channel- (Don't judge- there could be far worse vices like smoking or re-electing Pelosi). So, that is as scintillating as it gets these days- Johnny Jump-Ups and mucous wipe-ups….earning my carnation with every dose of Tylenol rendered.