Who do You Look Like?

I find it interesting that people automatically try to determine who babies look like. Does he look like mommy? or daddy? Great Aunt Agnes maybe? Really, how do you tell? Especially with the little ones because their faces tend to be kind of mushed. Yet, people always look for it, and almost always offer an opinion.

Resemblances become clearer as the child ages, though - my son tends to favor me, and the Little Miss is definitely daddy's girl. (See, I look for it too) Interestingly, the Little Man acts like his dad and Little Miss is displaying some of my traits.

My entire life I've been told I look like my dad's side of the family, specifically my aunt. The spitting image, or so people always said. She and I neither one saw it, but there must have been something to it because I even had teachers in high school call me by her name more than once by mistake.

Lately, the story has changed. Comments have tapered off about my resemblance to my aunt , and I've been told more than once recently that I look and sound just like my mom. It's kind of thrown me for a loop things have done a 180 like that.

It's kind of made me think . . . Is it normal for a person to morph from looking like one parent to looking like the other as they age? Or is it perhaps more like when people get to look more like their dogs after years of living together? And could that actually happen to me - am I eventually going to look like Mr Me? Any thoughts on this?

Hope for Improvement

It's been a rather icky day. It caught me rather by surprise - it's the week before our anniversary vacation, and this week was supposed to be busy, but steeped in the anticipation of fun. Unfortunately, the ick just kind of oozed its way in around the edges.

I had some projects at work go south - 3 to be exact. They've been heading in a southerly direction for a few weeks now for one reason and another, but today seemed to have been the day the floodgates let loose. Never fun, and leads to "painful" discussions with clients. You know, the kind where you and the client keep from yelling at each other by using four-syllable Business Speak words in ultra-long compound sentences. Really not my favorite thing.

Today was also my first weigh-in day of my 3rd installment of Joining Weight Watchers - again! I thought I had had a great week - you know it's going well when you're able to feel like you're starving half the time and yet resist eating anything. I've also exercised almost every day as well. I was excited to weigh in and lost a grand total of . . . .2 lbs. That's POINT two, folks. WTF?

I also was assigned a new computer at work. This seems to be a good thing, until you realize that the tech geeks never reload your machine exactly as you had it. I will be weeks getting all the software and passwords and settings that I have been used to using located and reloaded and tweaked to my liking on the new machine. Argh.

Then I got home to the fam, and the Little Man - who is coming off his first fight at daycare yesterday - was feeling ill.

Oh, you want to hear about the fight thing? The fight in which my 3 1/2 year-old THREW A PUNCH at another kid? And got punched back? Yeah, that was a special moment in parenting, getting to hear about that from the daycare provider. It may have also contributed to today's malaise - we spent the entire evening last evening punishing and lecturing.

Back to my story . . .

So, my Little Muhammad Ali was feeling ill this evening. He had had some diarrhea today, and mid-way through the evening he blew chunks all over the living room. He hasn't done that for a year or so, and man, does the volume and consistency of vomit NOT improve as kids age. The silver lining here is that I was rocking the Little Miss at the time and thus Mr. Me got clean-up duty. Still, we had to light candles all over the house to get rid of the stench. Ick.

I'll be staying home with him tomorrow. Which may be a good thing, with work going the way it is. And my stomach starting to feel ooky.