MOMMY IN BALTIMORE, DAY 1

OK, Aimee. I made it through one day on my own. No baby diarrhea, only one barf, some food on the floor, and a few fights. We made it out of the house by 7:30, and were in bed by 7:00. There is a sink full of Schmookie dishes, and I am regretting eating the chili again. Here is the video I promised:

Schmookies Say Their Names

The twins love to look at pictures of people and try to identify them. Men with gray hair are either GaGa or PawPaw. Women are Mommy. Men are Daddy. Any children who they do not know are "babies." Here they watch themselves being recorded.

Sicko

Home today with a very puny Keillor. He has more liquid coming out both ends than we put in. He also has a double ear infection. Antibiotic goes in…and comes out. Motrin goes in…and comes out. Put him down, he screams. Put him in his crib, he screams.

He just came off a 20 minute screaming jag. Could not be consoled. Upstairs, downstairs, inside, outside, red-faced bawling. Finally he started pointing to the kitchen cabinets. Point, scream; point, scream harder. In the last cabinet, he pointed to the Ritz crackers and screamed. I gave him a Ritz. Then he pointed to the raisins and screamed. I let him get some raisins. By some miracle, he stopped. Of course, I know I will be seeing these raisins again very soon, only wetter and all over the front of my shirt. Still, you know the old adage: a quiet toddler now is worth a puking toddler later.

Here I sit, Keillor in lap shoving raisins in his mouth, typing one-handed, just waiting for the eruption of partially digested raisins and crackers to ruin my laptop. And that’s all I know about that.