September 25: Son's Birthday Tomorrow, No Cartoon, No Poem

My son around 18 months old

Sunday night.  Once again, I come to my blog empty-handed.  No poem.  No cartoon.  It's been a weird weekend.  I've been busy without getting too much accomplished.  Tonight, I have to go home and do some serious reading and writing.

Tomorrow is my son's third birthday.  It's hard for me to believe.  Three years ago, my wife and I were sitting in a hospital room, trying to decide whether to go ahead with a C-section or let nature take its course.  We opted for the C-section option.  My wife was miserable, had been miserable all summer.  Throwing up.  Nauseous.  Sore back.  Sore feet.  She wanted it over.  Plus, the doctor was telling us that there was a chance our son already weighed 13 pounds.  (He wasn't.  When he was born, he weighed ten pounds, seven ounces.  Still not something I would want to squeeze out of any one of my orifices.)

My son is sick at the moment.  He has a pretty nasty cold and is really cranky.  Last night, I could hear him coughing in his crib.  He sounded like an eighty-year-old man with emphysema.  I felt really bad for him.  He's not been sleeping very well.

That's all I have for you tonight.  No huge words of wisdom.  Nothing profound or spiritual.  Church this morning was awesome.  Great music.  Great message.  I'm not going to promise a poem for tomorrow.  I haven't had a great track record with promises recently.

Saint Marty just doesn't have a whole lot to offer tonight.