I have been neglectful in my reporting, dear ones. On June 28, 2011 The Precious ceased to be an only child. Lump is a lovely little boy. He is already smiling and cooing and doing his best to catch up to his older brother. I know that it seems that we are favoring one child over the other when we call one Precious and one lump, but I assure you that is not the case. While I was helping out with the baby when he was first home Boppy asked me how he was doing. “Well, he’s kind of a lump. He eats, sleeps, and poops. He’s kind of a lump.” Well for Boppy the name stuck and he’s been lump ever since.

Lump is doing a few more tricks now. He’s quicky becoming a real boy. We know that when he gets hungry you have 24 retro seconds to feed him. Retro seconds are the number of seconds you should have gone back in time to make sure he stayed happy. Lump loves retro seconds. He stiffens up all over when you change his diaper. His mother says that he is like a horse that swells when you put the saddle on. I’ve decided she’s right. He has a killer smile, but sometimes he’s looking off in the distance when he smiles. Unseen objects are apparently incredibly humorous. It freaks me out a litte. But all in all, he’s a beautiful healthy baby that (just like The Precious) keeps us giggling those slightly unhinged grandparent giggles.

There’s a certain degree of insanity that comes with being grandparents. We have accepted ours with grace and aplomb. Anyway…we like to think so.

I have once again agreed with myself that I should begin blogging again. Since I am very rarely wrong, here I am. I was thinking about how long it has been since I actually wrote and what has happened since then. Oh, where to begin…

Picture it…a week before Christmas 2010. I awaken…14 steps and 15 feet were between me and my morning coffee. On any other day that wouldn’t even be an issue, but on 12/18/2010 it was huge. I remember the stairs, and then I remember being at the bottom of the stairs with my left foot behind me on stair 11…and it was NOT right! I’m home alone (the Bopster is in Kansas City) and I drive stick, so I decided to call my eldest. Walking to the phone was a bit of a trick….okay, crawling to the phone, but I managed. He couldn’t take me, but told me to try the non-vag daughter. Don’t ask me why (in retrospect it is insane) but I had her take me to the podiatrist. Yup…not the ER not the family doctor…the podiatrist. Long story short, broken tibia *distally”, ruptured tendon, pulled ligaments, and strained muscles, weeks in a fracture boot. I really don’t remember much about Christmas. Thanks super strong pain killers! In fact, other than the horrible pain, I truly recommend getting buzzed on pain killers as a way to enjoy the holidays. I spent Christmas day in the ER because my leg suddenly decided to swell to twice its normal size. We were concerned about blood clots, but apparently I just hadn’t put my foot up enough. For three months I wore that damned fracture boot. The last time I went to my rheumatologist he asked to look at my foot, and (he is a lovely Asian man with a thick Asian accent) said “not healed yet.” Like I didn’t know. I still have issues with it if I’ve been up too long or if I walk too much. Hopefully, it will heal…eventually.

There are a litany of other things that have happened since then. Some of them are definitely better than others. Trust me dear ones, I will get you caught up, but you must be patient. For now you must be content with my rotten luck and miserable winter. And if you figure out how to do that, be sure to let me know.