After a nocturnal visit by L at 3 am Wednesday morning to proclaim those little 3 words, “I have barf” and watching pretty much every Disney film we own (Thank you NetFlix for bringing us “the Backyardigan’s” so we had some variety!) I’ve actually gotten a decent amount of knitting done on my Tomato. I’m on the last row of raglan increases so we’ll see how I do on the next part.

*scary music interlude*

So here’s my great parenting story of the week. J is going through a screaming phase. Not just a tantrum stage, a screaming at the top of his lungs so loud that when asked what was going on by DH I replied, “Why I’m sticking him with hot pokers. What did you think I was doing?” Anyway, DH had to work late Wednesday evening so I had to put the kids to bed before he got home. Never an easy task. L actually went to sleep pretty easily but I figure it was the lack of food and the virus that helped knock her out. J, on the other hand, screamed. And screamed. After about 20 minutes, I checked on him to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself and he immediately stopped, gave me the big J smile, and said, “Mommy. Uppease?” So I did the mommy thing, put him back down and said, “It’s time for bed now. I love you.”. And so the screaming ensued. After about another 20 minutes, my doorbell rings. And it’s my neighbor. Not my next door neighbor. The one 2 houses down ACROSS the street. She had come to make sure everything was ok (which I actually appreciated. I think we live in such a nuclear society that it’s nice to know if something sounded wrong from my house that someone would come check it out.) I explained the whole tantrum thing and as mom herself she understood completely. But talk about awkward.

So when I put him down for his nap today, I closed the window.