I talked here about all of the nicknames that had developed over Theo’s few short months here with us. One in particular has stuck and developed a new life of it’s own. And that name would be:
Easy enough to see how that name came from the endearing baby pet name “Sweet Pea,” combined with the common exclamation “Sweet Jesus,” right?
Well, now Sweet Peezus also gets called these names:
Sweet Peezus Brown (Sung to the tune of “Sweet Caroline”) and then there’s just…
Peezus Brown (which gets sung to the less popular theme song to “The Cleveland Show”…”my name is Peezus Brown and I’m proud to be…”)
And the newest one, Easy Peezy Fonzareezi
WHAT. IS. THAT?
And where did it come from?
Oh, Peezus. I’m sorry we’ve given you such a terrible nickname. We didn’t mean to, I promise! Maybe it won’t stick (if we’re all lucky).
I Love You, my little Peezus Brown.
Last Thursday I was packing up the Highlander for our weekend away in Pittsburgh. I needed to take Theo to the doctor for his flu shot so I was in a bit of a rush. The power was out for some mysterious reason, and this didn’t click with me that it was going to be a problem until I hit the button for the garage door opener about 6 times with no results.
So I had to call the man of the house to find out how to disengage the opener. Okay, figured that out. Not so challenging. Once I got the car out of the garage, I walked up to the door to close it. No exterior handle. Well I didn’t THINK I had the time to go inside, close it, lock it, and go out the front door, so I grabbed the door naturally where the sections separate. Unfortunately for me and 3 of the fingers on my right hand, I didn’t think about the fact that a little pull would cause the door to come flying down at break-neck speed, with my precious little fingertips still between the garage door sections.
I stood there staring at the door, which was all the way down, and my 3 fingers that were lodged between the panels of the garage door. Then I panicked. And I pulled them back towards my body. Not moving. AT all. So then I pushed the garage door up with my left hand, careful not to stick my fingertips between the sections this time. I got the door up and my fingers out. That is when I saw the horror. Sheer horror.
My ring finger had blood coming out of both sides of the finger nail and the middle finger and index finger had gnarly indentations in them where they were smashed in the door. Talk about panic. I was literally pacing around in the garage shrieking in pain, unable to comprehend what just happened and/or what needed to happen next. I went in the house and tried to turn on the kitchen faucet to rinse the blood off my hand but the electric water pump was dead. I grabbed a couple of bottles of water dumped them on my hand. Then I took this picture:
Then I wrapped my fingers up in band aids, went and got my son from the babysitter, took him to get his shot, and went on a mini-vacation. Dealing with the fingers were a pain in the butt while on vacation. If there was anything to be thankful for, at least I didn’t have to go back to work for 4 days and I had reinforcements changing diapers and baby clothes, which was pretty much impossible (as Theo likes to grab at anything and everything these days). The ring finger is still in pretty bad shape but the other 2 feel almost back to normal. Just a little sore. The ring finger is VERY sore and the fingernail is wiggly, like a Lee press-on nail. Only if I catch it on something, it hurts…bad. It is only attached about halfway up from the end. Oh, and clear goo seeps out of it randomly. Yum.
P.S. Typing is not that fun.
I don’t get it!
Monday night we put Theo in his crib and he started moaning and groaning like always. It turned into him screaming bloody murder within a few short minutes. Normally, we can go in and talk to him for a bit and then leave. At that time, the screaming usually gets a little worse before it gets better, meaning that usually after we’ve gone in and soothed him, he goes to sleep fairly quickly on his own. Well Monday night he was having NONE of that! He was crying so hard that I was certain something was hurting him and he needed to go to the ER. I picked him up and hugged him against my chest and he rested his head on my shoulder and closed his eyes. What? Yep. So I kissed him and put him back in the crib. Bloody murder. I had to leave for work so the daddy-o picked him up and held him until he was solidly asleep and then he put him back in his crib without further incident. Slept through the night.
Last night, as I was getting ready to leave for work, we were trying to get him to look at a book and finish a bottle to wind down. He wasn’t interested in either and really didn’t seem terribly tired. The daddy-o put him down as I was leaving. A few minutes later, we had a text conversation that went like this:
Him: He hasn’t made a peep since I laid him down as u were leaving. I’m afraid to go back there.
Me: Well, don’t!
Him: But he has no covers. He has to be asleep right? He surely wouldn’t lay there silent this whole time. I’m going in.
Him: Wait til you see that picture. Now I have to move him. I gotta move him right?
Then he sends me this picture:
Me: Nah. I wouldn’t
Me: Just cover him up and vacate
(Notice the big drool patch? LOL)
Anyway, WHAT THE HECK!? One night he screams like Freddy Krueger is after him when we put him down and the next night he just goes to sleep on his own without saying a word. I can’t figure this guy out. All I know is this: He sure is cute.