A Day in the Life: Winter Edition

A friend in the blogging community has inspired me to record, from time to time, a day in our life in pictures and blurbs.  This is my second edition, and I'm sorry to say that unlike its predecessor, this one is not narrated in rhyme.  Because it's late, and I'm tired.  But simliar to its predecessor, it does include details of the mundane as noted on a random Sunday.  Without further ado: here's what our life looked like last Sunday.

                                                    

Good morning!  Oliver wakes up at 7:30, and we let Daddy sleep while Oliver plays and I fold laundry. 

Ollie and I eat a breakfast of champions. He's excited to have an "appo!" (apple).

First attempt at diaper and clothing change finds me without, um, diapers.  Re-stock The Basket and proceed to play and read books, now with a clean butt.

We have church at 10:30; Oliver is hit-or-miss in the nursery, and of late, we've needed to come comfort our sobbing child mid-service.  In a concentrated effort to get him in good shape before our attempt at nursery drop-off, I put him down for a nap at 9.

(Yes, this is a picture of his nursery door to represent Oliver's nap.  You didn't expect me to creep in and use flash photography cribside, now, did you?)

Getting ready for the day, I fill my tubby with warm water infused with one of my Bath and Body Works faves, Summer Vanilla: Lemon.  'Cuz anything labeled "summer" at this point, I want to immerse myself in.

Oh, Neddi Pot, how I love and hate you.  Oh sinuses, how I...primarily just hate you.  Clearing out forest green stuff from my head is such a lovely way to start the day.

Attempt #1 at waking husband: Unsuccessful.

I'm on-call this particular Sunday, and have some phone-calls to make.  Note the coffee.

This is why I have a fat cat.

After all that talk about the church nursery, often times it isn't staffed.  At those times, we end up juggling our toddler inside the sanctuary.  Mission: remove all crumbling snacks, spilling bubbles, and noisy toys from diaper bag.  Replace with books, just in case.

Getting short on time.  Run upstairs and trip on this toy truck.

Attempt #3 at waking husband: mildly successful.  (Attempt #2 made via phone call somewhere along the lines of 2 photos ago).  He is mumbling something about getting to church and running straight for the donuts.  I remind him that we do not have time.  He repeats, "donut."  Sigh.

I look in the toothpasty mirror and notice some odd oily splash-stains on my shirt.  In the interest of time and disinterest of personal put-togetheredness, decide to wear it anyway.

       Trip over that stupid truck again.  Throw it across the room. 

 Some Norske lumberjack drives us all to church.

I realize as we pull out of the driveway that I have forgotten Oliver's shoes.  No time.  We keep going.  We'll just have to look like Those Parents who don't dress their child appropriately for the weather.

     The man got his donut. 

Oliver made it the whole service in the nursery, with the exception of the occasional tear.  Back home, he watches Dada intently as he shovels the driveway.

Uh, apparently I haven't fed my kid in a while....

I hadn't fed me in a while either, so we had lunch.

Michael goes through mail...

Oliver has serious reading to do....

And I tackle this.  (It won.)

More playtime:

Then playtime ended for me: more work to do.

Oliver took another nap....

And I didn't. 

In fact, I hopped in the car due to on-call work obligations.  Because I work for the FBI, I mean because I'm a nurse, I can't tell you what I did for the next four hours...but I will enlighten you with a picture of my steering wheel.

Oh, and because I don't get to snuggle with a blanket and a nuk? 

                                                                    

Oh, yes I did. 

Later on back home, I was overjoyed to find my parents visiting us for the evening.  We had Panera and gave Ollie his neb medicine.

We had a grand time playing with Grandpa and MorMor (this is what we call my Mom instead of Grandma.  It's "Grandma" in Norwegian.  Though when we refer to her, Oliver is wondering what he's getting more of...)

Um, well actually, he got more clothes- the sweetest new outfit.  We dressed him up like a Hawaiian kiki. 

Costume change: PJs.

(And yes, I did finish zipping it up, thank you.)

Oliver in bed for the night, I finished my work for the day...

Then moved on to better studying, reading a bit of my Bible.  With a cookie and milk.  Hey, Oliver gets to wear feet pajamas, so don't judge. 

            I blogged on my other blog,

               Then went upstairs to bed, where I plugged in an alarming array of ways to get a hold of me.

                       To think that this is what I need by me when I sleep...you should see me during the day.

     Oh bed, sweet bed...

Let me tell you a little something about this blankie.  I got it for Christmas from my Grandma.  It is the softest, most luxurious thing I have ever petted before.  Michael used it the other night and said, "Um, your blanket?  That thing is made out of, like, angels!"  Seriously, all I have to do is touch it, and I'm unconscious in under a minute.  I like my pajamas, too.  I bought them just before my surgery, as a bit more of an attractive alternative to the open-butt hospital gowns. 

       Good night, sweet husband.

    Goodnight, sweet kitty.

I woke up, and it was Monday.  But that's another story.