Last night Charlotte and I came down after her bath and Greyson was watching TV.

Greyson: “Goodfellas is on.”

It’s pretty much understood that when Goodfellas is on, you just watch it.  I mean, that movie is amazing.  You don’t NOT leave Goodfellas on.  Right?  I stood in the living room and stared at the TV.  We got sucked into at least five minutes of Henry’s story as he met Karen.

www.posterchase.com

Greyson: “This movie is so awesome.”

Me: “I love this movie.”

Charlotte: “I love this movie too!”

::pause::

Whoops.  I scooped up my tot and whisked her away from the mobster excess.  It’s cool, the blow and pistol whipping weren’t in any of the scenes she saw.  All of Joe Pesci’s lines were made safe for TV with “freakin.”  Still, maybe the only time to not watch Goodfellas is when my impressionable toddler is around.  Parents of the year, 2013.

“You know, we always called each other goodfellas. Like you’d say to somebody: You’re gonna like this guy, he’s all right. He’s a goodfella. He’s one of us. You understand?”  -Henry Hill (Ray Liotta), Goodfellas

We had to celebrate tonight with a little treat.  We had to celebrate because those little thingys in the hospital that they put on Greyson’s chest made him psychic!  Freakin’ psychic, ya’ll!

It’s the weirdest thing.  This morning he says to me, “Amy, today is the day we’re going to get an offer on the house.”  I got to work and joked with a coworker who told me to keep my phone close, just in case.  One hour later Greyson called me to tell me to check my email.  Offer!  We got home after another showing.  Second offer!  Woo hoo!

Now we’re playing that brutally delicate game of counter-offering.  The reality that we will have to eventually find somewhere else to leave is creeping up on me.

But, for now we’re celebrating because Greyson is feeling better and went back to work today. Thank you all so much for your kind words and well wishes!  Things are looking up this week!  I think Charlotte sums up my feelings here…

You know when you get one of those phone calls, one that you don’t expect and definitely don’t want?  Yeah, I got one today.  I was on the way to work after dropping Charlotte off at daycare.  Greyson called.  When I saw the phone I assumed it was something about the house or the dog, maybe a reminder that I was picking Charlotte up this afternoon.  Nope.

He said, “Hey, listen.  I’m having really bad chest pains and I feel really lightheaded.  I’m going to call 911.”

What?  This is a man who in the 9 years I have known him has had a flu-like illness twice, a handful of colds he gets over within 3 days and a 12 hour stomach bug.  I knew it had to be serious.  The numbers 9-1-1 came out of his mouth.

I turned the corner, headed home and called work.  I walked in the door and saw my husband hooked up to an EKG machine and two EMT’s with him.  He was so pale.  His EKG was normal but the paramedics recommended he go to the hospital.

This was how we spent our day.

I watched the man I love lay pale and exhausted in a little hospital bed.  I laid my head on his shoulder and we watched some Netflix on his phone to kill the time between blood work and heart stress tests.  I said little prayers and touched his forehead and face.

Hours later it was all okay.  He was released and told to follow up with his physician next week.  They don’t know what caused his chest pains.  A “cardiac event” or a muscular thing?  They aren’t sure.

Regardless, it scared us.  It scared us into making some changes.  The last time we left that hospital we had our newborn baby in tow.  That is the only reason we want to go back there.

Here’s to healthier changes.

The past two mornings I have headed to work at painfully early morning hours. Not nearly as early or painful as my former TV morning news hours, mind you, but early nonetheless. Sunday night I set out Charlotte’s clothes, shoes, socks, hair bow and jacket for Greyson. Last night I was wiped and just told him that this morning would be “Daddy’s choice” for Tuesday’s toddler wardrobe.

I called him mid-morning to check in.

Me: “So what did you dress her in?”
Him: “Her Abby Cadabby shirt and jeans.”
Me: “Oh! I bet she loved that! You’re a good Daddy!”
Him: “Yeah, it wasn’t that cold so I just put on her jean jacket instead of her parka.”

::record scratch::

Me: “You put her in a jean jacket?!? WITH her jeans?!? Greyson! You can’t do that!”
Him: “Uh, yeah you can Amy. I did it.”
Me: “You had our baby dressed at school in unidenim?!? You can’t have denim on denim! Please tell me you fixed her hair!”
Him: “Yeah, I fixed her hair, with a big DENIM bow! Ha!”

My male coworker, also a young father, was listening to this conversation with a shrug and confused face. He obviously sided with Greyson and saw no problem with the double dungaree outfit. The women in my office were on my side.

Female coworker: “Oh, my God! She’s rockin’ a “Canadian Tuxedo!”

I had to chuckle at this. I had never heard that term, but now plan to use it liberally.

Charlotte is a two-year-old, and as such, had no interest in keeping her jacket on once she got in the house. Her tantrum was no match for my picture taking. This was the outfit. You get the picture.

I consulted my very cool and very fashionable step-brother about this faux pas. He said only someone in high fashion or a celebrity could pull it off. If you Google Canadian Tuxedo, this is what pops up.

I think my toddler wore it better.

In case you didn’t already know.  I GEEK OUT over Christmas cards. I LOVE them!  I can’t wait to display them.  They are the only Christmasy thing I leave up well into January.  I made our card this year.  It makes me chuckle.  I find myself stealing glances at my silly little family.  It’s very “us.”

I’m worried not everyone will get the joke if they haven’t seen “Elf.”  Oh, and the “2” sort of looks like a “1” now that I look at it.  Oh well.  They’re printed now. What do you think?