See who this is?

It’s the spokesperson of FWA (Future  Weirdos of America). The pink flannel, the wind jacket, the shoes. Oh, the shoes. Black patent leather lace-up boots. It really should be called Future Loners of America, but then I remembered that even Jared Leto had friends while wearing those shoes in My So Called Life.

So at least there’s that. But all I see is Ruth with raccoon eyes smoking cigarettes behind the school.

And probably still using sidewalk chalk as her drawing medium.

I’m not taking all the blame either, because she’s the one that pulled those boots out of the basket and asked to wear them.

Dang, she does make me smile, though, that weirdo of mine. I like weird. And I hope she is.

But at this moment, she’s not weird. She’s sick. Really sick. Like, she lays on the couch while Ryan and I watch back to back episodes of old Arrested Development sick. But she’s not laughing.
See? Weirdo.

It seems like only yesterday that she was reading her books, always stopping on the Bookmobile page.

And it only seems like yesterday that we rolled her up burrito-style after a long bath.

She laid there for at least three minutes without moving. I can never roll burritos right. Stuff from the middle always blow out the bottom and her legs are no exception. We only kissed that burrito stuffing though. We didn’t wipe it off our sweater and  plop it into our mouth like we do at the dinner table.

Yes, that was just a few days ago. But now she’s in day three of an all-day napping marathon. It’s been hard work for me. I’ve had to sit next to her on the couch and read,

or lay next to her on the bed reading or sleeping. Someone’s gotta do it.

But she has woken up occasionally to moan and call out for us.

Or to puke.

If there were a Mom-olypmics, I’m pretty sure I’d medal in the “Catch The Puke In Your Hand” event. You should see how fast my hand shoots out to catch it. I’d probably only get third place, because the silverist would catch the puke while changing a poopy diaper with her other hand. The gold medalist would catch it, reduce it in a skillet, and turn it into some disease-fighting tonic.

So yeah, just third, but at least I’d make the stand.

I do miss my busy little girl, but I can’t deny that spooning her for 20 hours a day has been a highlight of the season. I sure do love her.