Katelynn wasn’t looking too well by Friday evening, so we took her to the hospital. X-rays showed her pneumonia was worse, so the doc recommended IV antibiotics.

I dreaded the IV insertion, but when the needle went in she only said “Ouch” and watched the entire process. Maybe having a nurse for a Mama helped?

Half a syringe and halfway through my reading How to Be a Grouch she fell into a deep sleep. WORN. OUT.

We were able to take her home that evening with the IV in place and bring her back on Saturday for one more dose of Rocephin.

Her fever is gone now, but her cough is terrible. Which is good I guess since she’s supposed to be coughing all that crud out of her lungs. But it sounds awful. And wakes her up frequently during the night. Which is also good I guess since she’s taking a couple of much-needed naps during the day.

Me too.

When the brouhaha surrounding the release of the seventh (and final) book in the Harry Potter series hit fever pitch this summer, I did exactly what I did when the sixth book was released. Bought the book, sat it on my desk, and declared boldly outloud to nobody-who-was-listening, “I’m going to read all the Harry Potter books.”

I don’t claim that my declaration was particularly believable, since I’ve been very good about buying the books as they are released, but very bad about actually reading them. In fact, when I bought Number Seven, I had only ever read Number One. But twice.

The first time, I read it outloud to a five-year-old Jake (now 14) who, as I vividly recall, lay still and silent under his covers listening to a-chapter-a-night. I remember thinking at the time that his brain must be on overload, busily creating the visuals to go with Rowling’s words. It was awesome.

Then, when I bought Number Six two summers ago and made My Bold Declaration (see above), I decided I’d better reread Number One, having long since forgotten the details of the story. So I read the book in stolen moments between teaching Katelynn to walk and teaching Emma the correct way to wipe her butt. Because “front to back” is a complex concept for a three-year-old. Just ask Katelynn, who is now three and screams at the-top-of-her-lungs for me to WIPE! HER! BOTTOM! everytime she goes.

Moving on.

I finished Number One for the second time, and proceeded to never even open Number Two because . . . ummm, yeah . . . four kids and all that.

Fast forward to two weeks ago. Second verse, same as the first. Bought Number Seven–Sat it on my desk–Made Bold Declaration about “I’m gonna read all the Harry Potter books.” Lather, rinse, repeat.

Except, guess what? I am actually reading all the Harry Potter books this time.

I’m starting Number Four today. And, I have to say, while finishing Number One and Number Two just left me with pleasant feelings of “Wow. That was a good book,” Number Three BLEW ME AWAY. Really.

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Insert Number Three Spoiler Alert Here (You’re Welcome)

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Because ohmygah. Sirius Black? Harry’s godfather? Hecks yeah.

And I’m not ashamed to admit I had a tear in my eye when, near the end, Harry received an owl from Sirius with a signed permission slip to go into Hogsmeade with the other students, oh and, by the way, Ron can keep the owl.

Because that shit is heart-WARMING.

Top Three Reasons to Cry that It’s August 1st:
1. Oklahoma in August = one-hundred and five degree heat for days on end.

2. Summer’s nearly over and I’m still not in swimsuit shape.

3. Only 145 more shopping days ’til Christmas.

Top Three Reasons to Smile that It’s August 1st:
1. In just fifteen days, seventy-five percent of my children will go back to school.

2. Seventy-five percent of my children will go back to school in just fifteen days.

3. Also, school starts in just fifteen days and seventy-five percent of my children will be going.