Part one
see what you think about this....
Somehow when inputting info on my Facebook account, I hooked my blog up to feed to Facebook. Thing is, if you are my friend on Facebook, and don't know that CeceCantSleep feeds to FB, you might think that good ol' Clisty B has decided to post random Notes about her life. And with great detail. See, reading a Note on my FB profile, doesn't really show you that it is coming from my own blog.
And so I feel a little dorky about that. I have no problem with people reading the blog, I just want them to know that it's my blog and I am not just writing essays on Facebook.
Does this make sense?
Not sure what I will do about it. Only thing I can come up with is to have a disclaimer on the top of each blog entry. Who knows, maybe I'm wrong and people really DO know that it's a feed from my blog.
On with the show.
Part two
I am currently sitting next to Mike who is barreling into the land of crazy-sick-guy. When I arrived home this evening, I found him burying his head in a trash can. There hasn't been any drama with the can yet, but he just told me, "at midnight, it's comin out." Okaaaay, T minus 30 minutes. I reminded him to please try not to use the P-word (rhymes with fluke). I don't like it. And don't use the term 'ralph' either, because that was my uncle's name. Not a bodily function. We agreed that acceptable substitutions would be...throw up, vomit, and my favorite, toss your cookies. In his case tonite, it would be Cheerios. Of the Honey-Nut variety. I fed him a kernel of info from my pregnancy days, and told him that Cheerios were a breeze to 'toss'. I'm kind like that.
I have been asked to check the thermostat to find out why it is so cold in our room. It's 73. I was instructed to cover him with another blanket, but just from the hips down. I also had to remove some pillows that were keeping him from ambulating to his side. His back is aching. His forehead is cookin'. His requests are unusually detailed. He rarely gets sick like this. Which makes me wonder, when will it be my turn?
It doesn't stop there. That would be boring.
Gwen has had a scruddy little nose lately. Being the 1st grader that she is, she doesnt place a ton of importance on wiping her nose. <--- To my utter embarassment. Well, this evening I was holding her on my lap at the church while we watched Allison in a program....and oh-my-goodness...I saw where Gwen had wiped her nose. In her hair. I about died. How long had it been there? Of course it would have to be the day I let her keep her hair down, with nary a clip to hold it back.
Don't worry, I gave her a good talking to about why we don't wipe our noses in our hair.
Because it could catch on fire, of course.
I will be watching her hair like a hawk from now on.
I better turn in. It's after midnight now, and Mike's right on target.
