And we're mobile. To cough on more things.

Sitting at the computer, listening to a sick little guy cough and fuss himself to sleep.  Yes, big Hank is sick AGAIN.  He literally just finished a round of antibiotics Saturday, and by Saturday night was starting to cough.  Got up this morning, got ready for work, and went to wake him up only to find him burning up and runny-nosed.  Ben and I split the day-he went to work in the morning, and headed home at eleven so we could swap.  The kid had been so crabby that I was happy to trade him, I'm sad to say.  Not his fault, he's just feeling miserable, but man, when you're reduced to dancing and singing along to Fraggle Rock to amuse your child...well, those are desperate times.  Any longer and I probably would have let him play with all the things he tries so desperately to get to-namely all the remotes, the phone, and anything I happen to be holding.

But we did have a breakthough in the milestone department, our little guy is now mobile.  I hesitate to say he's crawling, he's more....lurching.  In a crablike sideways inchworm way.  It's pretty amazing to see.  It's funny how all these firsts are so amazing to us, but seeing your kid smile, or laugh, or taste something good for the first time just reminds you of how many simple joys there are in life.  Today we spent a good hour watching him figure out that he could work his way over to his toys, and saw him sit and contemplate how to get the toys that were on top of the ottoman, just out of his reach.  Wish I had some of his drive.

I also took him to see my family on Saturday.  Sunday was my mom's birthday, so Casey, my youngest brother, and I decided to drive down and surprise her.  I doubt we did surprise her, because nothing ever does, but she was happy to see us.  Henry got fed his first Thin Mint and was otherwise spoiled rotten by everyone-I was glad I was there because my sister threatened to give him coffee.  She said I'd done the same for her kids, but I had to point out that I never gave them coffee-just criminal amounts of sugar.  But I won't say too much about her, because she says I'm mean on here about her and mom, and told my mom I talk about her online.  Mom threatened to get a facebook page to see all the things we say about her, but she never will, she doesn't have the patience.

Shan says I should start a "Shit My Mom Says" blog.  She has had some winners.  We were laughing this weekend about her taking me to college with my dad.  My mom is not the most emotional of people, but you see that a lot with Irish Catholic families.  Yeah, they love you, and you love them, but no need to talk about it.  As my friend Skate, who comes from a similar background, once told me, "Emotions are for Italians."

So my mom is taking me to college, and as she and Dad turn to go, she faces me, and takes my hands, and takes a deep breath.  I think "Wow, this is it.  She's going to tell me she's proud of me.  MAYBE SHE'LL EVEN CRY."

She squeezed my hands and says, "Megan.  Remember.  If you get drunk, pass out on your stomach.  Because otherwise you might choke on your own vomit.  And that's a horrible way to go."  And then she just left.

But that advice has stuck with me, so maybe she knew what she was doing.