Trysten has an imaginary friend, his name is Tariku and he happens to be Trysten's brother. When I make the kids breakfast, Trysten insists I make a (pretend) breakfast for Tariku. When I tuck him in at night, Trysten insists Tariku join us for prayers and snugglebugs. You know it's getting long when Trysten is beginning to believe his brother is just a figment of his imagination.
We got our immunizations today. So we went the "cheap" route and only got the shots that would prevent us from dying and/or making us wish we were dead. Those were Hep A, (we got Hep B at our doc's office), Yellow Fever and Typhoid. We skipped out on a few things but I was reassured that I would still be loved if I got any of the following: meningitis, polio, tetanus, etc. So, 3 shots each cost us $650. SERIOUSLY. That's ridiculous. Adoption is a pricey adventure, but one look at Tariku's eyes and I'd survive another 30 shots at $100 a pop. That's no jokes. But my arm hurting is no jokes either. The title of this post comes because Trysten was a great help when we were getting our shots. He held our hands and all. Well, I got mine first (by the way, did you know the Yellow Fever shot is shot basically in your armpit? 1) gross, 2) ow!) and I didn't bleed, nor did I squeeze his hand very tight. Well, Zach went next and he did bleed and Trysten reported later that he squeezed really tight. So a few minutes ago I was talking about how badly my arms hurt and Trysten said, "But you're strong, mommy". I'm going to assume it's because he recognizes how truly strong I am and not because of my subliminal messages I've been giving him since birth. I.e. mommy is stronger than daddy, women can beat up men if they want to, mommy can beat daddy in a leg race, mommy can beat daddy in an arm wrestling competition, mommy can squat more than daddy, etc.
I better be off to make some of my famous fettucine chicken alfredo, it is a favorite of everyone but mine; I find it's quite easy to sacrifice for the precious faces that stare at me across the table.