Dr. Yogi Bear

Well for those of you who have been wondering what’s up with my husband’s health the verdict is in…we know nothing. Today we went to see Dr. Yogi Bear as I affectionately call him because I truly believe that he’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket. Truly this guy was all spazzy, asking questions about computers and shouting out “irrelevant” as I read him the long list of symptoms exhibited. I was trying to tell him what was going on (cuz my darling husband doesn’t remember things when he’s “sick”) and the guy was looking at me like I was bent over talking out of my ass like Jim Carrey. He made it clear that unless my husband was coming in with his diagnosis stamped clearly on his forehead, Dr. Yogi Bear had no interest in figuring out what was going on. Although he was terribly interested in my fertility…so I watched with a glaring eye as he examined my husband’s feet and eyes all the while thinking I was going to have to call down for a paramedic because Dr. Yogi Bear looked like he was having some sort of fit.

So I don’t know how well I trust this A-okay diagnosis from Dr. I graduated from Bedrock Medical School (before the earth was populated with fully evolved humans). All these symptoms and no clue. Maybe we’ll get a second opinion from Dr. Doolittle. This is the true health care crisis in America—boneheads like Dr. Yogi Bear who is going to charge me $400 for thumping my husband like a gourd. Well that is the one good thing that came out of today—watching my husband squirm on the table while this guy poked and thumped and danced around..Yes ,Yogi Bear danced around, after which he quickly disappeared, probably after another sandwich.

Jake-a-saurus Rex

A few weeks ago my Dad taught Jake to growl and he’s been doing it almost non-stop ever since. He growls at the cat, and at me, when I’m feeding him, when he’s falling asleep, and yes even in his sleep! Thanks Dad. J/K! His little tiny growl sounds more like a little dinosaur roar which is how he earned this newest nickname!

Coupled with these sweet little dinosaur pajamas it’s the cutest thing in the world. We love our little Jake-a-saurus Rex. And those 9 month jammies have gone extinct. Our dinobaby has moved up to the 97% for height while keeping his same weight almost (down to 70%), he’s too tall for footsie pajamas. A few more inches and the jumperoo and walker will be extinct too…then what will a mommysaurus do?

Sheep

“When you’re worried and you can’t sleep, just count your blessings instead of sheep, and you’ll fall asleep, counting your blessings…”
~Bing Crosby

When I was younger my mom told me that if you have a song stuck in your head it’s stuck there for a reason…figure out the meaning and it will go away. While I don’t know if that’s necessarily true of the Doodle-Bops song that gets lodged in there everyday, I do think there’s some truth to this!

This last few weeks have been overwhelming for me. We’ve completed our final homestudy visit, my business is taking up a lot of time and money, and i’ve had some injuries (my neck needs to be cracked so i have a constant headache and I managed to slam my arm in the van door (don’t ask) luckily i didn’t break it). To top it all of my husband has some major unknown illness that we’re trying to track down. I don’t handle my hubby being sick very well. So with all this going on I’ve been a bit of a slacker mom this week, about which i feel guilty which makes me more stressed and more tired…you get the picture.

So this morning I’m walking around like Rosemary Clooney singing this great Bing Crosby song and it hits me…it’s about perspective. Just like photography, life is about perspective. If i focus on the blessings in my life, these little things like laundry and proofing and paiting don’t seem like such a big deal. So today I did less worrying, played with my son, cooked and enjoyed an evening with my husband. The rest of this mundane world can wait…tonight i’m busy counting my blessings.