Hi, by nabe is A-b.

The Lion King rocked...even though I managed to create one helluva head cold during the first act.

Spent the rest of the weekend in bed. Or on the couch. Which means I have nothing of any consequence to report here. After Friday night, I didn't leave my house at all until this morning, on the advice of my boss that "you better come in." Still not sure exactly why, but here I sit, patiently awaiting the big reason why I came in and wondering when my head will so fill with snot that my nose will explode off the front of my face.

It's also fun to have my coworkers make fun of the fact that I now talk funny. I can't even say my own name. It comes out "A-b." And when I realized that, I whined, "I can't even say my own name!" only it came out, "I can't even say by own nabe!" I should just stop talking, I think.

I don't know that I've ever been this stuffed up, because currently I can't hear out of my left ear and that's never happened before. In between talking funny, I get to say, "Huh?" "What?" and "Excuse me?" with regularity.

At what point do I yell "uncle" and call the doctor? I hate calling the doctor for a head cold. It's a freakin' cold, for Pete's sake, and there's nothing that can be done for it except waiting it out. I know this. I'm a firm believer in not throwing antibiotics at every little sniffle, because if you do that then when you really need 'em to work, you've built up a tolerance to them and they don't work, and then where are you?

But at the same time, I'm getting pretty sick of breathing through my mouth. M said this morning, "You snored last night." I replied, "I don't doubt it. Listen to me!" He said, "Yeah, I didn't think it was possible for someone sleeping on her side with her head buried in the pillow to still snore, but you did." "Point taken."

The best thing about the entire weekend was listening to M care for Zozo over the baby monitor. I fell in love with him all over again when I heard him sing The Lotion Song to her after her bath. The Lotion Song was written, produced (but not yet recorded), and typically sung by Mommy. It goes a little something like this:

Weeee...puuuuut...theeeee...lotion on the baby
lotion on the baby
to keep her, keep her soft and smoo-ooooooth

The lyrics are a little tricky, I admit, but once you sing them a few times you get the hang of it. You repeat the refrain for as long as necessary to, well, to put the lotion on the baby.

I have to hand it to M. He pulled an American Idol on me and changed it just a bit to make it his own. When I sing it, I pronounce baby "bay-bay." He chose to go with the more traditional pronounciation of "bay-be."

I lay there in bed, breathing through my mouth and wondering if we could hook the central vac up to my nose or if I could borrow Zozo's bulb sucker thingy, and generally wishing I would just pass out from the nasal pressure, when I heard him start singing.

It was the sweetest sound in the world.