Quick update on me: I'm still feeling iffy, but I haven't yakked today. I just attempted a grilled cheese sandwich, and I'm a little bit afraid that it was a mistake. We'll find out, I guess.
And now, for the real rant.
If you have been reading my blog since the birth of my first child, Nora, in 2008, you've probably noticed that ever since Henry arrived, there's been a lot less photos and a lot less blogging. This happens to a lot of second-borns, but their parents' excuses tend to be something generic like, "We just got too busy with two to get the camera out all the time."
It's true. When you have two kids, you do get busier. You have more stuff in your hands and on your mind, and a camera (among other things) hits the back burner.
In Henry's case, however, not only are we busier, but we're basically just trying to make sure that this kid survives to his next birthday. This kid requires constant vigilance. He requires constant supervision (which, contrary to popular belief, is pretty much impossible at all points in time—especially when the kid actively evades it). I am on constant death-watch. He makes one, gigantic mess. I clean it up. Then, I've realized that he's made another one somewhere—only with more fury.
Some days are harder than others. There has only been, like, one easy day on record. That day, Henry had a temperature. The other day, Henry may have been so flipping hot (it was 97
I'm going to go lay down. My back hurts.