Between kevetching about Goldman Sachs and their stockpile of the H1N1 vaccine, trying to find a random priest to act as a witness to the signatures of a heathen (OK, maybe Lutherans aren't "heathen") and a lapsed Catholic (heathen, but redeemable given enough time in Purgatory) for my nephew's upcoming wedding in the good old Roman Catholic church, having a small flood in my bathroom (not the usual flood caused at each and every bathtime for Eliza) and packing for Mexico, I am tired.
I am always torn on how to pack Eliza's formula. Do I put 35 pounds of liquid into one suitcase and hope the kind folks at Continental don't rupture the entire suitcase, or put half in with my clothes and risk having my clothes coated in cloying sweet Vanilla Kids Essentials and incur a huge dry cleaning bill upon arrival at my destination? Tough call. Makes me very jealous of the people whose kids are good to go with a glass of milk and a Happy Meal. I harbor deep resentment toward those travelers who can actually use their allotted luggage for mundane things like, oh say clothes, instead of formula, tupperware containers of the four things Eliza might eat (but which are never found at our destination), one nebulizer, an aerochamber and four pounds of various medications. I do think however that once we are free of the dreaded formula, traveling should be a snap.
But Eliza gas had time to have some fun lately. Eliza doesn't really sit still, so most photos tend to be "action" photos (a/k/a "blurry"). Like this:
But I was able to get Eliza to sit still with her little man-friend William. After a few initial moments of playing "that's mine" they settled down pretty well, thanks to Aunt Carolyn's excellent supervision: