I'm a bit of a mess ...

So, I'm going to pack my stuff up for Girls' Camp today. It shouldn't be too bad. I should buy some mosquito repellent ... and maybe a new flashlight (Funnily enough, for power outages, we tend to be real candle-people. I can barely FIND our flashlights. And when I do, the batteries are all weak. But I KNOW where multiple candles and matches are at a moment's notice. Why is that? -- It COULD be Gothic-Romantic Llanna ... there's just something so Jane Eyre about a flickering candle in my little brass holder.)

BESIDES that, I keep hugging my children and telling them that "I'm gonna miss you SOOO much." They seem okay with everything, though. They know that Grandma is coming up (Sunday afternoon) and that they'll probably see their cousins some more. So, they should be okay. Michael's here for them ... Grandma raised five great kids of her own ... I'm just a terrible worrywart. And I totally own up to it.

(But it would help if Bruise's thumb was all better. Or, at least, didn't need to still be wrapped.)

Speaking of Bruise's thumb, four more days to vote on if I show pictures. So far the overwhelming majority is pro-gore. So if you think you might faint/throw up/whatever if you see picture of his thumb's metamorphosis, speak up now or forever hold your cheese.

Most of the blisters from his reaction have popped, so it's looking better. And since it's had some airflow with the "rocket thumb," the color looks MUCH better, too.


THAT up there is a "rocket thumb." Bruise even can say "rocket thumb." And he's very proud of his rocket thumb. As in, he cries when we take it off to rewrap his hand.

Yeah, it's not the best picture of him. As you can tell from the past photos, he's way cuter than that picture would lead you to believe.

Oh, when Bruise's thumb had the huge reaction to ... latex, the bandage, whatever ... and he cried/screamed that whole trip to the next town, Bucket started to sing. Mostly to drown out Bruise, I think.

"Bruise, it okay." She warbled. "Bruise, no cry. Bruise, BE QUIET. BRUISE, NO CRY!!!! NO MORE CRY. QUIET NOW!! NO!! CRY!! BRUISE!!!!1!"

Yup, that's my girl.


And that's my girl, pouting.



And here are my little pyromaniacs, on Independence Day.



(Hey, be nice about the last picture. I'm not a professional photographer. I so should have gotten T2 to show me the ropes. Or read some photo blogs more. ^_^)

But, yeah. Right now I'm a bit moody because I'm worried. And I'm all down on myself a good deal about Bruise's thumb, because it KILLS me when he's in pain. And he was in pain yesterday (One of those nasty blisters from his thumb's reaction burst). Poor little guy.

At least I'm not even going to be gone for much more than 48 hours. (thank goodness. I mean, I adore everyone that I'm going with ... but I'll be abandoning my BAYBEEEES! MAH PRESHHHHHHUS BAYYYYBEEEEES!!!)

Yes, there is an internal conflict. (Heck, with me, it's like an eternal conflict.)

Oh, hey, I've got to go. Bruise ran over to me with my flip-flops. "Mommy, shoes." He tells me.
"Hey, buddy. But Mommy needs to get dressed first!"
"Okay. Mommy, shoes."

(Yeah, he's a little OCD about shoes. It's cute.)

But I'd better go before there's a mutiny.