The Poop Chronicles

I would really love to be able to say I have more to talk about than poop.

But I don't. My life revolves around poop right now.

Potty training is going really well. Except for number two. G absolutely refuses to go in the potty. Not even for chocolate chips. Not even for TWO stickers. Not even for a chance to go to the train store.

Clearly, I'm not above bribery.

The other day while at my parents, I had the bright idea of letting him go in their raspberry patch and eat to his hearts content. I mean, there's no way he'll be able to hold it once he's eaten his weight in raspberries.

Right?

Wrong. He held it and held it and held it. He ran around the yard clutching his little bottom. He begged for a diaper.

I finally convinced him to go poo poo in the yard like a doggy. Then I followed him around with a shovel. Not one of my proudest moments.

And yes, I know this is questionable parenting. But seriously, I can't deal with the poopy undies. Beyond gross. (I did see Thea's suggestion on my last post to let G change his own poopy undies and I've taken it under advisement).

Preschool starts in about three weeks. Admittedly, I don't think we're going to have him fully potty independent by then, we may have to postpone enrollment for a month or so.

But good lord, I could really use those three hours, two times weekly to chill. And by chill I mean run around like a madwoman trying to run all the errands that are nearly impossible with two kids in tow.

And I also fully realize that if my son ever reads this post, years down the road, he will be mortified and will probably be putting me in a horrible nursing home.

But really? He really should be changing MY poopy underwear. It's only fair.

blink

Today I woke up and realized that my little girl has been here one week already.

And cue the postpartum tears...

I'm thrilled to report that thus far, many of my fears about going from one to two kids have been unfounded.

Knock wood.

Honestly, the transition has been fairly simple. G has embraced his baby sister and has been so loving and protective. He has his acting out moments...but don't all three year olds?

Baby C has been, in my opinion, and from past experience...ahem...dare I say it...easy.

I may have just totally jinxed myself.

She's a great sleeper, barely fusses and just seems to have a mellow temperament. I have to actually wake her to eat, most of the time.

I'll be honest, I've still had my moments. Don't you just LOVE hormones? Gah. Honestly, I kind of didn't want to leave the hospital last Wednesday when I was discharged. I mean seriously, they have a menu and you can sit and order room service and I got to laze around in bed all day and not worry about dinner and laundry and it was SO quiet. And I had amazing nurses who didn't even piss me off when they woke me up every two hours to take my vitals. Then I realized the hospital was like staying in the most expensive hotel ever. So, I came home, to reality. As soon as I got home, I was happy to be here, to have my entire family intact and under one roof. Plus, my husband has been really amazing and supportive. I feel very lucky this last week that he's home and able to take some paternity leave.

For the most part, I feel calm and like somehow, I have my stuff together.

Then again, I'm still on narcotics. So I'll let you know how I'm REALLY doing in a few days when I totally stop taking them. I know there will be that moment at my one week post surgery check up when the nurse asks how I'm doing, how I'm really doing, and I'll burst into tears. And then they'll offer me the happy pills.

Believe me, if I though I was for reals experiencing PPD, I'd have no problem with the pills. But by and large, I'm a happy tears person at the moment.

Like right now, I'm looking at this picture...


Totally crying. And this one...

Come on.

Then I think about how fast this is going. Already. And that? That kind of makes me sad. But I'm excited. Even a little proud of myself for soldiering through this first week. Having the realization that I might be able to pull this mother of two thing off...for reals.

Because Gestating is Not Enough...

To Do List Before #2 Arrives:

1) Play Musical Bedrooms. G's room will become the nursery. Our room will become G's room. The front guest bedroom/office will become our room. Did I mention I have to clean out all three rooms and purge all the junk? I've been chipping away at it, but I have no idea how we've accumulated so much crap in five years.

2) Decorate Said Rooms. Paint. I think that's about all I can handle. I've picked out the nursery theme after about two months of agonizing. I wanted something girly but not over the top. Mostly, I didn't want all pastel - and this is what I chose:

[Yes, it's Pottery Barn. I tried to go all indie, but PB kept pulling me back in. Don't judge.]

You see that tiny bit of aqua in the corner of the bumper? That's the wall color. I think. So yes, there's a little pink, but the red kind of toughens it up a bit. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

3) Convert the Garage into a Family Room. I'm actually laughing at myself as I type this, because I think the chances of this happening are comparable to winning the lottery. We need the space so bad. But I'm thinking this will stay firmly on the to do list.

4) Have Some Kind of Garage Sale. Or, in alternative, rent a Uhaul and make a trip to Goodwill. Or have a massive bonfire in the backyard. This last option may become more viable the more stressed and crazy I get.

5) Potty Train G. Just kidding. This is a pipe dream. I've read all the books. I've tried several methods including just putting underwear on him and watching him like a hawk. Inevitably, I turn my back for five seconds and there's an accident. Am I getting judgment? Yes. Mostly from older relatives who are like, JUST FORCE HIM. Yeah. That's a great idea. I love the idea of scarring my child for life so things can be more convenient for me. Plus? I'm guessing even if I got him 'trained' by the time baby arrives, he'll regress. So potty training goes on the back burner. I'll just keep telling myself that he won't go to Kindergarten in diapers.

6) Pick Baby's Middle Name. Okay, I don't usually put my older child's name in this blog, but I'll this one time tell you (or maybe when she's born too) baby girl's name: we're calling her Charlotte. This has been our girl name for long before G was born. So now we need a middle name. I have a few in my head, but usually my ideas are poo-pooed immediately. I'm thinking maybe I won't bring it up at all and just use the one I pick when I fill out her birth certificate info? Cunning, I know. But I'm open to suggestions. I grew up with a super vanilla middle (and, let's face it, first) name, so unusual is good. Just no crazy spellings. That drives me nuts.

7) Stock the Freezer. I did a pretty good job of preparing and freezing meals before G was born and it was a life saver. I need to do the same this time, but I need some ideas. I usually do turkey chili, spaghetti sauce and a bunch of soups. If anybody has any easily freezable recipes, sent them to me...please! I'll love you forever. Not that I don't love you already...

I know there's much more I need to tackle. Those are the biggies.

Oh. I forgot something.

8) Try Not to Lose My Mind. It might be too late...

Mother of the Year

Ugh.

I can't believe I let my little man's birthday pass with out a post!

Don't worry, at least we celebrated in real life. Which I guess is the important thing.

So, a few days late, Happy Birthday, G-Rex!


I love everything about you. I love that you're 'busy'. How you are so sensitive and always asking how I'm feeling.

How you say 'grayby' for gravy and 'eyegrows' for eyebrows.

How you will pick fruit and vegetables over junk food every day of the week.

That you love Wall-E and seem to understand it better than a three year old should.

That you watch ESPN with Daddy and know who Kornheiser and Wilbon are.

And your obsession with Thomas the Tank Engine? Oh.My.Goodness.

I just love you, kiddo. You've made me a better person. It is absolutely my privilege to be your mama.

I just can't wait to see you as a big brother and watch you grow.

Summer Here

Summer here?

It's messy, muddy, grimy. It's all boy.


Our summer is in our backyard. We spend a lot of time back there. It's not perfect. It would make Martha Stewart curl into a ball and cry 'Hold me!' Toys everywhere. Some broken. A pool my child won't go in. Grass that is in need of a mow. Half eaten dog toys.

Yeah, it's not exactly classy.


But you know what else it has? Memories. And I kind of love that. Dirt and all.

For more summer, breeze on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry for You Capture.

Nap Please

Have I mentioned that I am tired today? The kind of tired that I feel as if my eyelashes have tiny weights tied on them with tiny little strings. Serious, narcolepsy type tired. So tired I scared myself driving to and from the post office.

And? My toddler is on day four of NO NAP AT ALL. Which I hesitate to admit, but is probably a sign of the extinction of the daytime nap.

!*@*)#^&*%.

He's faked me out a couple of times in the past, but the last few days have been different. As in, I put him in his room and all he does is remove every toy from its basket, every book from the shelf and every article of clothing from the drawers. All while screaming at the top of his lungs.

Things aren't looking too promising.

I tried to get him lie on the couch with me for a rest, but all that accomplished was me being half awake, feeling even more groggy and him hitting me with books he wanted read.

Right now, he's alternately watching Yo Gabba Gabba and trying to hijack my keyboard.

I still need to work out today, clean and make meals.

Time to brew some coffee and pray for an early bedtime...for him and for me!

Black. And White.

Black and white. I just love it...it's so, well, CLEAN. Crisp.

We got out a lot this week, and I captured some wonderful moments.

At the zoo...kissing the hippopotamus statue.


At home, modeling the new big boy haircut.

Visiting Thomas the Tank engine...hanging out on the train.

For more black and white shots, scoot on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry for You Capture.

Hot Mess

Today is my birthday - I'm the big 3-2.

Woo. Hoo.

No, I'm not all freaked out about getting older. I just don't get so excited about birthdays anymore. I really can't remember the last time I did anything for my birthday except maybe go out to dinner.

Which is fine.

No, really. I promise.

But sitting here today made me think about where I was ten years ago on my birthday. England. Having way too much fun. WAY TOO MUCH. As in, if you look up pent up, goody two shoes set loose in a foreign land with lots of booze in the dictionary, there's my picture.

See?

That's me on the left. Yes, I am standing on a table (I was wearing a miniskirt standing on a table, cause I totally am classy like that). Yes, I am doing 'rock on horns' with my fingers. I can tell you that I remember that night and it didn't end pretty. Oh no.

Did I mention I drank a lot? Yeah. This drink in my hand? It's called a Snakebite and it is pure evil in a glass. In fact, many pubs over there will not serve this concoction because people end up doing stupid things after drinking a few...YOU DON'T SAY. The bartenders never had a problem serving those bad boys up to us silly exchange students.

Which brings me to this day,exactly ten years ago.

The birthday celebration extraordinaire. My twenty-second birthday fell at the end of the school year. I'd made some great friends and we were ready to cut loose.

I decided that I wanted to cook dinner for all my roommates. Nice gesture, no?

Except for the fact that I started drinking around noon. So, by the time dinner time rolled around, let's just say my knife skills weren't so great. I did not cut myself, but I'm pretty sure I grated some knuckle with the parmesan.

We hit the pub, stayed there till it closed, then hit the local disco. I remember pretty much everything that night, which is amazing, because I counted how many drinks I had and I hit 22 between 5pm and 3am. 22 for my 22nd.

Wow. Maybe I should be proud? Or not.

Here is the sole photo I have from that night. It is blurry. Kind of fitting. (OMG, I'm totally drinking peach schnapps.)


There are times I get nostalgic for that crazy time in my life. Cause I've for the most part lived a pretty down to earth, responsible existence.

But for a year (or two) I was a bit of a (FUN) trainwreck. I made it through, unscathed.

That hot mess? I miss her. Carefree, LOUD, probably obnoxious as hell.

But would I go back to that? Um, no. Not in a million years.

This morning, my husband brought my son in to me to snuggle at 7am. He got right under the covers, rolled over and hugged me and said 'I wuv you mommy'.

I'm pretty sure that no birthday party could EVER top that.

Dear Nick Junior nee Noggin

Does anybody out there watch Jack's Big Music Show? Anybody? Bueller? Bueller? *crickets*

Well, my son is OBSESSED with Jack, his dog, Mel and his 'super swell friend', Mary. Or, as he says, JACKMELMARYANDMEL! Most of his words and phrases seem to stem from this lovely little show on Nick Jr. (formerly Noggin). We only let him watch it once, maybe twice a day (on THOSE days). But there are only about 25 episodes total, so he's seen them all multiple times.

The show was canceled a few years back - I seriously don't know why they don't bring it back. In my opinion, it's probably one of the most innovative and educational shows (as far as music goes) out there for toddlers. Bonus - it's parent friendly. I honestly don't mind it at all. And that's saying a lot.

Jack's Big Music Show is basically a puppet show, focused on music (duh) - with a couple of kid friendly music videos thrown in, and sometimes a guest. Jon Stewart did an episode. And Lisa Loeb has been on it too (oh 1995, how I miss thee!).

Yeah, it's cool. I'll admit it. I kind of love it.

Except for these musical guests. I find them, well, disturbing.



I did a little research and found out this group is called The Trachtenburg Family Slide Show Players (and yes, they are a family - dad, mom and daughter) and they're from Seattle OF COURSE THEY ARE . While they have an interesting thing going - the slides they show are randoms they pick up at garage and estate sales and flea markets - I TOTALLY CANNOT GET OVER THAT GUY'S MUSTACHE. There I said it. I'm shallow. Get over it.

ANYhow.

What I really want to know is why Jack's Big Music Show was canceled? Can someone please get their shiz together and bring it back?

Cause if my alternatives are The Upside Down Show and Wow Wow Wubzy and Lazytown (okay, maybe Sportacus is kind of hot if you can get past the pencil thin mustache...yes, I have mustache issues) I might need to pop someone in the nose.

I Can't Stop

For Valentine's Day, my very sweet husband brought me flowers. Which is a very big deal, because:

a) My husband is one of those guys who doesn't 'do' Valentines, because it is a commercial, Hallmark holiday (likely story)...

and

b) Being in the nursery business, he thinks cut flowers are a waste.

But darn it anyway - he done got me flowers!


Okay, not real flowers. They ARE fake, but they are apparently a very huge seller. And, they light up.

Here they are in the light...

And the dark...


(P.S. I'm REALLY hating my new camera, so excuse the out of focus-ness. I'm working on it).

So, two years in a row, he has come through on Valentines, being all super sweet and thoughtful.

What he didn't bargain for, I'm pretty sure, is the crazy ass redecorating bug I caught as a result of his gift.

For some reason, the colors of the flowers (red with brown stems), really spoke to me. As did the Pottery Barn catalog.


I love our new bedding SO MUCH. Of course, my bedroom looks nothing like the catalog, but it sure beats the tired old sage toile bedding we had. Which was nice, but I was freaking tired of looking at it.


Now, I'm kind of obsessing over painting. I'm thinking chair rail. Or an accent wall. I brought home a bunch of paint samples. The red and the chocolate brown were not well received. I can't bring myself to do the gold...or maybe I can...

Today, the new decor received the toddler seal of approval. He climbed right up on the bed, grabbed a book, got under the covers and pulled them up to his armpits.


He's reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Such a literature fiend.

But most importantly, the bedding passed the jump test.


This was imperative.

So, that's the story of how a thoughtful little gift snowballed into a full on redecorating frenzy.

Yeah, I'm not done. I'm eying G-Rex's room and the kitchen. And the bathroom...

Mamarazzi

Last night we had a little photo shoot at bath time.

Getting smiles out of this kid (at least on demand) is a nearly impossible feat.

We can do 'surprised'.


He'll give me profile (work it).



He'll give me somber (and the signature 'I will not make eye contact' shot).


Oh! Almost a smile. Not quite.


Mom...really? I'm trying to take a bath here. I have serious water pouring issues to attend to. And squirty toys. Lay off.


Okay, fine. Here you go. Happy?

And there you have it. At the age of two, he has mastered the completely fake, almost painful photo smile.

No matter what he's doing, he's my favorite face to capture.

For more faces, jump on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry.

Like, Totally

We're working on his 80's vocabulary.


He already knows AWESOME! And GRODY!

Next up? I'm thinking gnarly...

Hey Duff, Check It.

I think I have found my new vocation.

I'm going to go work at Charm City Cakes. I think Duff would totally hire me.


Okay, maybe not.

However, I did learn a few things from my foray into cake making.

1) The professional grade food coloring is the bomb. And it also will stain your skin for a very, very long time.

2) I need a spinny platform thingy to frost properly.

3) It does not take very long to get tired of eating frosting.

4) There are a bazillion different types of decorating tips. I have a headache just thinking about it. I did manage to find one that makes grass and then found one to edge the cake and a wee one for writing. Writing, by the way, was the hardest part, by far.

5) A homemade cake - you think it would save you money - um, no. Not after purchasing all the fancy decorating tools. But at least I have them in my arsenal. They'll pay for themselves....in about 15 years.

6) Worth it? Oh, heck yes!

Look at that face! I'll go elbow deep in frosting ANY DAY for a smile like that.

Two Years Ago Today: Part II

On January 22, 2008, I started the day (or VERY early morning) staggering into the maternity ward at the hospital. But not after getting lost because we did not know where we were supposed to check in.

Did I mention we didn't take a baby class or a hospital tour? Yeah. Whoops.

Luckily, I did manage to pre-register, so when I waddled up to the check in desk, in the midst of a mind bending contraction, B was able to tell them my name and I was admitted right away.

And as soon as I got into the room, I puked. Again. Tater tot casserole. Mmmm.

There really wasn't much of a question as to whether or not I wanted an epidural, especially since I was in so much pain at 4 centimeters. I had all intentions of seeing how far I could go without drugs. For reals. But between vomiting every time I had a contraction, and the fact that I didn't seem to have any lull BETWEEN contractions (I found out later I was having back labor), I was pretty much asking my husband to draw a target on my lower back with a sharpie.

Epidural. NOW. Ahhhh.

I could have made out with the anesthesiologist.

My doctor came about an hour later and since I wasn't really progressing, he ordered pitocin. The pitocin, well, it made my contractions worse. As in I could feel them through the drugs.

Four to five hours later, I had just finally made it to an eight. They broke my water, and I was supposed to get more pitocin. But the head nurse (who was a major pain in the ass, and treated my husband like he was an idiot) made the executive decision to hold off on the pit because I was 'non-emergent'. Meaning, my baby wasn't crowning. I guess the full moon had brought in laboring women in droves. Thirteen women were admitted after I was and their babies were born before I delivered.

So, my pitocin was put on hold. And I'm pretty sure she forgot about it. Another nurse helped me roll to my other side, and then the fetal monitor sounded funny. As in, it slowed way WAY down.

I was in a haze, between the epidural and sheer exhaustion, but the look on my husbands face and the fact that my sister in law had tears in her eyes, well, I knew something was wrong.

The baby's heart rate had dropped from 160 to 80. And it wasn't coming up.

The nurses flipped me back to my other side and his heart rate came back up, slowly. Whew. But, at this point, the doctor made the decision that the baby had to come out. Immediately.

I was prepped for surgery. My mom and sister-in-law helped B get dressed in his scrubs. Poor guy - he was terrified. As was I.

The doctor who was to perform the surgery was not my regular OB, but I had met with him. And I knew I liked him - and I discovered I liked him even better when he straight off started cracking jokes in the operating room and tried to put me at ease.

It worked. Well, I'm sure being numbed from the chest down didn't hurt either. Something about being completely numb was strangely comforting for me. I know some people don't like it, but after all the previous pain, I was relieved.

Within 45 minutes of the decision to perform a C-Section, we met our little boy for the first time.


Even though the birth was disappointing, nothing could take away from the magic of the moment. He came out screaming, and peed all over the doctor. My first glimpse of him told me that he looked JUST like his Daddy.

Our George.


I can still smell that delicious baby smell, and hear the little tiny baby coos.

Today, my baby turns TWO YEARS OLD.

The sweet baby smell has been replaced by little boy smells - not bad, just different - and the little coos are now full fledged words.

'No, Mommy.'
'Mommy, watchu doin'?'
'Are you kiddin' me?' (I kid you not, he said this last week).

He's a little boy who loves dancing to Jack's Big Music Show. He jumps more than he walks. He spends a lot of time coloring at his easel...and on the walls. He's slightly obsessed with Diego. He tries to hug and kiss his dogs. He gives his Daddy high fives and is a champion snuggler. He won't eat chicken nuggets, but devours avocado, green beans and tofu with gusto.


He's the G-Rex. He's ours. He's two (Sob!).

Happy Birthday to my little man!

Two Years Ago Today: Part I

Two years ago today, I was very pregnant.

I told you. VERY PREGNANT. Ouch. Just looking at that photo makes my lower back hurt and my feet swell up.

That morning, I had a doctor's appointment where I was told I was 1 centimeter and 50% effaced.

'When?' I practically begged.

To which my doctor cheerfully replied 'Could be up to one or two weeks. We will induce you in two weeks if you haven't delivered.'

I have never been so irrationally angry in my life. I had high hopes. I'd had a weird crampy stomachache all morning - the drive to the doctor was particularly uncomfortable. Since I'd had no Braxton Hicks the entire pregnancy, I wasn't sure if that's what I was experiencing.

After getting dressed in my horrid gray velour sweatsuit (the only thing that fit me), I stormed out to my car and proceeded to call my husband, sobbing.

He didn't seem phased. I think he was used to his crazy pregnant wife at this point.

I calmed down, went and got a latte and a scone, and started feeling a little better. And incredibly nesty.

First stop, Lowes. I picked up light bulbs because I remembered we had a bunch of lights that had burned out in the house.

Next, Fred Meyer, where I picked up some totally unnecessary jammies for the baby, and stuff for dinner. I was making tater tot casserole (don't judge!), one for that night and one to freeze.

Once home, I proceeded to act like a total freaking nutjob and, on a ladder, 10 months (YES, 40 weeks is TEN months) pregnant, changed out about 12 can lights. Stupid? Totally. Did I feel like if I didn't change the light bulbs, the world would come to an end? Yes.

My mom dropped by with a glider rocker she'd picked up off of Craigslist, which was the final piece of the nursery. We unpacked a bunch of baby gear, put it away and she took care of the mountain of cardboard for me - cause if she didn't, I would have been outside in the freezing cold breaking down the cardboard with a box knife.

The whole time she was there, I was whining and crying to her. So pleasant!

She left, I cooked dinner, and froze the extra casserole. B was home soon after, and we ate - it was about 8 pm.

I wasn't feeling so hot, so I decided to sit in the tub. I got in at about 8:30. At 10:30, B came in and woke me up. The water was cold. And I felt awful.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the worst, gripping pain I'd ever had in my life. And the casserole? Yeah, that was spewed all over the bathroom.

By midnight, I had called the doctor and confirmed I was in fact, in labor. B did not know how to time contractions (we never took classes, doh!), but we figured the hospital was a good place to be, so he packed up the car, and we were off ...

Scary how vivid that memory is - but then again, I was embarking on the most amazing, rewarding journey.

More tomorrow!

Hibernation

So, yeah. We don't go outside much in winter here (the beautiful Pacific Northwest). It has poured rain for days.

What do we do during winter?

We hang on the couch in our jammies. We hibernate, till winter is over.

See? Even the dog doesn't want to go outside. It's nasty out there.

For more You Capture winter, head on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry.

My Faves of 2009: Photo Year in Review

I can't believe I've been participating in You Capture since last March. Crazy. This year was the year I really picked up my camera and made an effort to be more creative - catch different perspectives. As I click through my albums, I am so thrilled at some of the fabulous stuff I've snapped this year! Behold:


This photo is from one of my first you capture challenges. I love the photo (I still can't believe I shot this - the reflection? Wow.), but love even more where doing these challenges has brought me - I've made so many new friends, and discovered I'm a wee bit artistic - who knew (not me!)?

This was for the black and white challenge. I love all the shells! This was G-Rex's first experience at the beach. We were there for one of the lowest tides of the year. Absolutely incredible.

Last summer was the best I've ever had. One of the perks of being laid off was getting to hang with my kiddo and play in the sun! We had SO MUCH FUN. This captures our summer so perfectly!

The tea shot. I love tea. I love the colors in this photo. Now I want tea...

Hands down, my favorite shot of the entire year. A boy and his dog. And a tennis ball. LOVE.

Thanks, Beth, for making us stretch ourselves. I can't wait to see what we all capture in 2010!

For more year in review shots, head on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry.

Milestone (Maybe)

So, guess what?

I'm going to Vegas in three days! Woot! The hubs is letting me tag along to biggest nerd herd gathering on planet earth the Consumer Electronics Show. I joke about it being all geeky and stuff, but honestly? I'm wicked excited.

On the flip side, I'm kind of freaking out because we are leaving the G-Rex behind. He is staying with my parents. It will be the longest we've ever left him. I'm sure he'll be fine. I'm the one who will be a wreck.

Did I mention I haven't fully weaned him yet? This may be the end of the nursing. Again, I'm sure he'll hardly notice, but I'll be crying...INTO MY COCKTAIL, FLYING TO VEGAS.

I can't believe I've made it this far with breastfeeding. For a long time, I wanted to at least make it to a year. Then, I decided 18 months. Now that he actually walks up and tells me 'NURSE RIGHT NOWWWWW' while yanking down my shirt, I think it's time to call it a day.

And I will be sad. I won't lie - a few anticipatory tears have already been shed. The last remnant of him being a baby will be gone. He'll be a little boy.

I don't know if I'm ready.

Can I stop time? For a little bit, at least?

Please?

Adventures with Gas (Not the Methane Kind)

This morning started out beautifully. We were all in a good mood. G-Rex had a huge breakfast and was happily drinking milk out of a sippy.

B called and needed me to bring his laptop to work, which is about 35 minutes south of our home. Lucky for him (and me), I was planning on heading down that direction already. I had to pick up my Christmas cards from Costco, plus see if they have any flea medication because darn it all if Carl didn't pick up fleas at the kennel (so of course Sadie and all the cats will get them now too).

I loaded G into the car and immediately noticed the fuel light was on. No worries, quick stop and we'd be off.

The gas station was super crowded, but I got the last pump. Score!

I put about ten bucks in, thinking I'd fill the rest of the way up at Costco. I made faces at G-Rex through the window as I was pumping the gas. He was yelling 'Mommy funny!'

Then it happened.

I went to pull the pump out of my tank and the handle stuck. GAS STARTED SPRAYING EVERYWHERE. All over the side of the car, all over the ground, ALL OVER ME.

Oh yeah. Jeans? Soaked. Sweate? Gassy as hell.

I managed to stop the spraying, and surveyed the damage. I was COVERED. I put the pump back in the holster, fastened my gas cap and said a bunch of bad words before I got back into the car with my little mimic.

I was about halfway to B's work. I didn't want to go home. It would interfere with any possible midday nap. So, I decided to hit the next clothing store I saw and buy some pants. I had a t-shirt on under my sweater, so even though I'd freeze my boobies off, at least I'd be covered.

TJ Maxx was the first place I saw. I got G-Rex out of the car and hoisted him to my hip, where he proceeded to lean backwards and arch.

I ran to the rack with the sweats, knowing full well I wouldn't be able to try anything on. I figured I could deal with small, medium, large and elastic or drawstring waists without too much worry about fit.

I snatched a pair of brown fleece sweatpants. Which actually were not too hideous. Up to the checkout we went, G-Rex hanging precariously from the crook of my arm by his armpits.

And damn it all if they didn't have a bunch of toys right at child level at the checkout. There is a special place in hell for whomever designs these retail displays. For real. Within one millisecond, the trucks were spotted.

'Twuckeeee! Twuckeeeeeee!'

G-Rex turned into a full on eel child, somehow managing to dislodge all his bones and slide out of my grip.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him next to me.

And all hell broke loose. I'm pretty sure the rest of the people in the store thought I was beating my child.

Did I mention I smelled like I bathed in gasoline? Seriously, if anybody had lit a cigarette within 10 feet of me, it would have been all over.

Three people in front of me and one inept cashier later, we were back in the car. G-Rex with huge crocodile tears pouring forth, screaming so shrilly that he's literally going hoarse. Me, with my jeans off, wiggling into my new sweats. Wadding up the petro-jeans and sweater and stuffing them into the TJ Maxx bag which absolutely reeks like some god awful potpourri.

Potpourri, gasoline and a screaming toddler.

Yes, I do have a headache. Why do you ask?

Lunch, coffee and a laptop were delivered to B.

And we did make it through Costco fairly unscathed. No flea medication, but they do sell stamps. No post office for me, whoopee!

But I did have to walk through Costco wearing fleece sweats that were a bit too short, Uggs, and a white, sweaty t-shirt.

My kid, however, looked pristine.

Funny how that happens.

Home Sweet Home

We're back.

We've been back a few days, actually. The dogs are back from the kennel. Load after load of laundry is done. Summer clothes are put away.

Kauai was GORGEOUS. Relaxing? Well, it was our first experience traveling with a toddler. Let's just say I could have used a prescription for Valium. At least for the first flight. Cause seriously? I just about lost it. I spent the entire six hours trying to keep the G-Rex from kicking the back of the seat in front of him. Yes, he is that tall. He could reach. The seat in front was empty, but you know how the whole row is connected. So the whole row feels the kicking.

And let's just say the couple in front of us was not pleased. Okay, I can't blame them, really. But OH! how I tried to keep my child in line. I don't think they understood that it could have been MUCH MUCH worse. As in dog whistle screeching. Crying on takeoff and landing.

Instead, the dude in front of me gave me the stink eye every single chance he had. Looking back, I should have just let the kiddo kick the hell out of the seat. Because either way, the guy was going to be an ass.

So.

There was that. And other than THAT, our vacation was incredible. We didn't do anything terribly special, but we had a few date nights, I got some quality reading time in, got some sun and we had the chance to spend time with my parents, whom we haven't seen a whole lot these past few months.

I had a chance to decompress, and now I feel like our life and our little family is getting back to normal.

Normal is good. I missed it!

Now? I'm in post vacation let down but luckily, I have Christmas preparations to throw myself into. Granted, I'm not a huge Christmas fan, but I'm going to try this year. I PROMISE.