I was certain I would never give a poo update, even though one was requested. It felt like even writing about poo once was enough. But I should know better. Never say never, as they say. They who? I don’t know either.
Walked in to nursery last week in the evening to pick Jonah up. Melissa was off for the day. So Daisy was charged with giving me the daily report.
JONAH POOED FOUR TIMES TODAY. EVERY TIME WE SMELLED SOMETHING, IT WAS JONAH!!
Hmmm. My brain does it again. Spinning. Searching for the right response. Or at least an honest one.
Daisy, I don’t know what to say. He eats most of his meals here.
(I over-emphasize –here– because (a) it’s true and (b) maybe if they do a little soul-searching, we can cut out the poo update dramatics. It’s a baby room in a nursery. After all.)
Well, have a good night!
Now I am walking out of nursery and Melissa is walking in. This catches me by surprise because she had the day off and I know she lives far away. She explains she came to pick something up and in an effort to make pleasant small talk (because we like Melissa very much and I know who to keep on my good side in life), I say, because I know it will amuse her, “Melissa, the girls told me Jonah pooed four times today!!”
Melissa looks at me straight in the eyes, then says matter-of-factly and without hesitation:
I know, Kely texted me.
They text each other about my son’s poos.
I took no photos this weekend. I am nothing if not prone to one extreme or the other. But last weekend when the wather was sunnier and warmer and we were a little more spontaneous, we took our beloved on a walk intending to go to the zoo, but instead happened upon a free petting zoo and then a picnic in the park.
All the cricket matches being played all over the place = a thing I love about it here.
Jonah had his first bibimbap. Mmmm.
Another recent milestone: Jonah’s first professional haircut. Before and During.
I just adore our Japanese hair salon. I know with my appearance it makes total sense that I go to a salon aimed at the Japanese hair market. But I’ve written about Hiroko before and generally my loyalty to a coterie of service professionals whose English I don’t understand is steadfast. Hiroko and I were having a good-natured competition of whether white women or Japanese women were more beautiful. Trying to finally trump her in my belief that the Asian women have it, I said “yeah but Japanese women never have to get nose jobs.” Oh but little did I know that Hiroko was going to drop a bomb on me.
But Japanese women get double eyelid surgery to look more Caucasian.
New policy at work is we have to call a hotline if we’re sick and give details about our illness which then launches a procedure which includes no less than several automated emails and the involvement of some third-party provider of health and safety outsourcing processes. One of the options we can say on the phone is “psychiatric problems”. I am torn between that and “gastrointestinal issues” as what I most want to say if I ever call. Remember when you could say: I am feeling ill and not coming in today.”? I wish “snakebite” was an option.