On those rare blue-sky, tinkling laughter, hormonally manipulated days where we start thinking about having another child, we'll be safe if friends or family members will only say to us "remember March 12! March 12!" or some other date that is a touchstone back to the more common days in the reality of having children.

Trying to talk on the phone with my father this morning, I lifted a screaming Sawyer up maybe twenty times, then put him into the chair next to me, then lifted him down out of the chair. "You're doing it to yourself" you're probably saying. "Ignore it." But as anyone who has borne witness will attest to, that's like ignoring a fire siren in your living room. Not conducive to phone conversations. He's fighting a cold and teething - his last four all at once, I think - and so has been grumpy. If grumpy's the word you'd use to describe those vlosa raptors as they tore through the human population in Jurassic Park.

Once off the phone, I decided I'd go ahead and give him a small dose of tylenol. He is, after all, teething AND a little sick, so I don't feel too much like an overly medicating mama. Then I turned to warm my coffee in the microwave - for the second time - and was happy a minute (lierally, it was timed by the microwave) to hear wonderful laughter eminating from my son. Carrying my coffee over to the counter, I looked into the living room to see him delightedly laughing at the way a full bottle of cherry tylenol looks on the carpet and oriental rug. What fun! At 10 I finally drank my coffee, steam cleaner finished with for these five minutes, and thought about going back to work, not just full time, but with two full time jobs... I could use the rest.