Our Normal

We have a new tradition in our house.

It's not necessarily about family in the broader sense like so many other people this time of year, but our family.  We live 800 miles away from the rest of our family and refuse to trek to Chicago for the week. It is ours, it is our girls.

It is a little bit maddening.

We've come to the realization that we need to do something, ANYTHING, to get us out house when the rest of America tucks away into itself. And so, we started a Christmas Eve trip tradition, and went to Hershey Park.  Bet you didn't know they were open in the middle of winter, huh? Let me tell you, they are and it is awesome.

Hershey's Christmas Candylane is a must on our holiday agenda now. At least until the girls out grow the type of ride that can function in the middle of winter.

But really, does anybody really outgrow Peanut Butter Cups?

Pictures are Deceiving

By the pictures, we had a wonderful weekend away.

There were blue skies and a sparkling lake.

Matt was able to show the girls how daddy rode up the worst road known to man.

They touched his brick for the effort in last years Savageman.

BUT

What the pictures don't show is the fact that Clare was on another tear again this weekend. The three hour drive from Baltimore to Deep Creek alone had us rethinking our weekend plans. By the time early evening rolled around, I was using my phone to see if I could rent a car to drive back home with the girls that very night.

What there are no pictures of is the fact that I was walking, seething with rage over temper-tantrums, small town rental car hours and slow 3G connections on my iPhone, and playing with my phone instead of looking where I was going. Or that I am a clutz and I always look down while walking on uneven terrain.

There are no pictures of my fall down a few rustic, nature preserve stairs, when I insisted I was fine to finish the walk down to Matt's bike drop off, or when my vision went white and I was .this.close. to fainting so I made Matt move road blocks to come pick me up in the car.

There could be pictures of the fact that my right foot is still swollen to about double it's normal size and turning the most delightful shades of purple, black and blue, but it is so grotesque, I will spare you that visual.

There are no pictures of the fact that it meant that I couldn't attend the triathlon the we had driven 3 hours to watch and cheer at. That attitudes did not improve, adults included, in our 2.5 days away.

Honestly, the best part of the weekend? The drive home.

We are headed to Chicago tomorrow. Wish us luck, and maybe send a prayer or two our way.

The Start of Summer

Some people celebrate Memorial Day as the start of summer.

We dace to a slightly different beat, patterned after arm splashes, spinning wheels and pounding feet. Our summer season starts with Matt’s first triathlon. This was Pocomoke weekend.

It was Matt’s 5th year running the race, and while he claims that the field was too slim, his endurance and ambition paid off. He placed 16th overall and 2nd in his age group, resulting in his first real metal.

While I was proud of him, my joy came from watching my girls soak up the sun and sand on the Ocean City beaches.

And our mass consumption of taffy and doughnuts of course.

It's New to Us Anyway

I single parented again while Matt went on a road trip. It was quick, a total of 55 hours (yes, I kept track). And I did have the option of tagging along, but 13 hour drives are not conducive to 37 week pregnant and 2.5 year old bladders.

So where did he go - and WHY? Well.... back to Chicago for an upgrade.

See, this was our/his car.

It was the very first car we bought because about 2 months after moving from Chicago to Washington, DC both of our cars died. Within 2 weeks of each other. Mine would no longer start, and his decided not to stop one day. (Thank God it ended its life in the parking lot of our apartment complex and not on the highway!)

Anyway.... we were gun-shy about the idea of buying another used car and all the potential problems that goes with thousands of miles already attached to a car. So we found this little number at the Saturn dealership.

The Saturn SL Spring Special. (Note - this is NOT our car - but I am encouraged that these folks think they can get $5,000.00 for the car!) I think we paid around $8,000.00 for the car brand new. It was no perks- stick shift (which I never did figure our how to drive), crank windows, CD player only because it came standard with the car- type of vehicle. But we could afford it and it was dependable.

Then we had Grace, and her car seat took up 2/3 of the backseat. We bumped her head every time we took her in or out of the car. It was small. Too small for two children to comfortably be strapped into. Add to that, that my SUV has over 125,000 miles on it and is making funny noises again.

We started talking upgrades. We started talking about what we wanted to replace our cars with. We started talking about finances and price points. And the conversations about new cars stopped.

Until Matt was on the phone with his dad a few weeks ago and was informed - sadly - he had just put a For Sale sign on his Caddy. *sniff* Oh wait, you just did WHAT? Hmmm....

Hence, our upgrade.

Sure, it's not what we would have picked out of a car lot. But it is a 1994, solid as a rock, dependable as the day is long, only sporting 30,000 miles luxury vehicle that has been kept immaculate through its succession of owners. Now it has us. Poor car.

And for all of you who's first question was, 'What color is it?', with the hopes of Pimp-Daddy ice blue or mint green, my memory had failed me. It is not the bland taupe I had remembered. I the shade it looks brown-ish, but in the sun- OH! IN THE SUN!!- it is a mocha / purple color!

Rock on!!

And, it comes from the land before CD players in cars, so we have our very own throw-back tape player!

Ummm .... does anyone have any tapes?

Dreams

I like plans. I can’t help it. I’ll say it again. I like plans.

NOTHING in Williamsburg went to plan.

We headed toward Virginia Saturday morning. As all true planners do, we had been following the weather and knew there was a chance of snow. Chance. They said chance.

When we got into our car at 8am, it had just barely begun to flurry. By the time we reached the DC beltway, it was snowing. In Northern Virginia we could barely see the roads. The farther south we went, the snow turned into rain. Past Richmond, we were safely in the rain.

The rain did not stop though. At 40 degrees, it is not cold enough to snow, but it is sure cold enough to keep sane people from bringing their 2 year old out into those temperatures with pelting raindrops.

So the weather foiled our Saturday night plans. We were going to go to Busch Gardens to see their Christmas Wonderland. We had told Gracie all about it. There will be Christmas lights all over! and hot chocolate! and carolers singing! and a choo choo train! and *guess what?* penguins!

And then it rained cold pelting drops.

So penguins were forgone and the hotel pool was adopted instead. Except she didn’t forget our magical stories of trains and penguins. She kept asking about them. All throughout our Sunday morning trip to Jamestown with its Indian Village corn grinding, Settlers Village armor wearing and cafeteria ketchup eating, she asked about the penguins.

And it became clear what must be done. Matt’s dream of seeing the Williamsburg Illumination would have to be put on hold in lieu of 2 year old dreams of choo choo’s and penguins.

You know what though, it was worth it

.

Tactical Mistake

Upon Matt's return from Boston, he presented both Grace and me with gifts.

I got Beacon Hill Chocolates and Mike's Pastry cookies (becasue he couldn't figure out how to keep the cream in my beloved Lobster Tails freash for a day in the hotel and plane ride. Personally, I think he just wasn't being creative enough :) Seriously though, these things are good enough to be the sole reason for your trip to Boston.)

Gracie was presented with a Lucy the Lobster and Her Clacky Claws and this little finger puppet. ------------------>

Despite the truly clacking claw on the top, the book was a meh for Gracie. The tiny little finger puppet though! That is a winner. The puppet ate dinner with us last night. Literally. We had to tell her several times that plush toys do not belong on your dinner plate and that the lobster does not need to eat himself. Especially not my famous, I make them once a year because they are such a pain-in-the-butt, eggrolls.

Do you hear that Grace? Toy lobsters do not eat eggrolls!

Anyway, the lobster is LOVED. And at the grocery store I made a TACTICAL. MISTAKE.

At the fish counter I pointed out the live lobster tank. Shit.

I wasn't thinking, at least not all the way though to the repercussions of what I was doing. In my small minded 5 second thought process before I spoke, I assumed Gracie would squeal with joy over sighting the real thing and we would be on our way. Nope. The fish counter is only 1/2 way though our shopping routine. The first half of the trip she ate contraband, unwashed fruit and the second half she lamented with a wayward bellow for the lobsters.

Lober, where are you lober? Mama, where is lober? Is lober OK? I want it. I want to see lober. I want it. Lober, where are you lober? Mama, go see lober?

See what I mean? Shit.

I spend the next few minutes ignoring her questions, which were increasing in volume and pitch, to come up with a story. After Matt's request for Uncrustables was fulfilled (don't ask, but if you ever need them they are located on the bottom shelf of back corner behind the tequitos and pizza snacks at my gocery store), we fought traffic back to the fish counter.

OK, Gracie. One more stop by the lobsters. But they are sleeping and they can't come out of the water, OK? We will stop by and say hi one more time, but you'll have to wait until next week to see them again after, OK? OK?!?

And so we did. It went smoothly. Mama, I see them! Shh! lober sleeping. OK, we go now. I see again though?

When we got home Grace promptly told Matt, "Shh - lober sleeping" and walked away. But now? Now an extra 5 minutes is going to have to be built into every visit to the grocery store. Stuffing Lil' Rick into his Halloween lobster costume should be a big hit this year though.

Only in New York

It always amazes me how two days can feel like a lifetime and an instant all at once, but I guess that sums up New York. A lifetime and an instant all at once.

We walked neighborhoods, peered into the zoo, shopped and ate. Oh, the eating!

The Fig & Olive is our new 'must go back' obsession. Everything we ordered melted in our mouths and was perfectly finished with a blissful chocolate pot. We followed dinner with music in Bemelman's Bar. It is a beautiful, dark, moody gem that made a killer martini.

The night was cut short though by the fact that Gracie wakes us early (can you say 5am?), we'd walked miles, with Matt adding even more with his trip to the Met during nap time and Sunday was to be filled with brunch at Tavern on the Green traffic filled trip back home.

In Central Park, we took a carriage around the park which made both my mom and Grace insanely happy. Both spent the entire ridge exclaiming, "Look! Horsie!"

Things faded into tears when the ride was over and it was time for brunch. The majesty that is the Tavern on the Green, dripping with crystal, flowers and little girls dreams, was not enough to persuade Grace into behaving though.

Before entering the gates to the wonderland, she began demonstrating her displeasure to the flower pots lining the entry. In her wake she left a trail of petals. Not even the bride and groom waiting to make their entrance for an early morning courtyard wedding would hold her attention. Although I guess the wedding does make the Flower Girl-esque trail slightly more appropriate. Once we were seated in the Terrace Room, the screaming was tempered by a balloon graciously gifted to us by the staff.

We had a few great, crazy Only in New York moments too...

- We got a ticket in a manufactured police sting for 'blocking the box' literally 30 seconds out of the Lincoln Tunnel. $115.00 before we could even get out of the car.

- Due to the wonder that is Travelzoo Top 20 Deals and overbooking we were upgraded to a 2 bedroom 1200+ square foot apartment instead of the two rooms we had booked.

- At Ground Zero I was blown on by a crazy. Picture Vincent Schiavelli a la Ghost zig zagging down a corridor blowing on tourists shoulders like he was trying to put out a fire. I at least saw him coming and veered away as much as possible. Others before me were not so lucky.

- On a very crowded subway car, an above the knee double amputee was dragging himself up and down the car panhandling and looking up dresses. I gathered my hem as he scooted by.

- We all took turns dancing with Gracie on the Big Piano in FAO Schwatz.

When you add in all these highlights and lowlights, I guess we were able to give my mom and Gracie the New York experience we'd hope for.

All in One Revolution of the World

I swear, whenever I complain via this blog things turn out ok.

The knots I had over my failed transmission yesterday? They're gone.

Turns out, lots of Vue owners have had the same problems. Turns out, Saturn knew about it. Turns out, the dealership that I originally took my car to didn't care. Turns out, that another dealership did care and they are going to fix my baby for me.

For free.

Yeah, that's right. The pissed off folks that came before me took control. Fought back and sued. I never thought I'd be giddy over the idea of a class action lawsuit. I am though. Oh, I am.

Which means New York is back on. My mom flies in tomorrow morning and we are headed up right from the airport. Via Matt's car, but that is OK. We just need to clean it out and de-stink it before then. Nothing a few industrial size garbage bags and a bottle of fabreze can't handle.

We are staying in Lenox Hill and will spend the weekend walking Central Park, 5th Avenue shopping, museums, dining (we did have reservations for Daniel, but in the name of fiscal responsibility cancelled- I'm not too worried though), and absorbing the city as possible through all 5 senses.

Ahhh.... My world feels completely different now that it did 24 hours ago.

Baited Breath

We've been holding our breath the last few days.

Waiting.

Waiting for answers. Waiting for good news. Waiting for something.

Leading up to this week, we have been planning a trip to Manhattan. My mom is coming out on Friday and the four of us are supposed to sight see for a few days. This would me my mom's first trip to NYC, something I know she's been looking forward to for ages. Details and reservations are something I've been obsessing over for weeks.

One of the little details was getting the oil changed on my car. It was overdue and starting to run a little funny. The car has been chugging, getting stuck in gears and loosing power. The mechanic couldn't check the transmission fluid in his shop so we took it to the dealership. The dealership said 'their computer couldn't find anything wrong.' We immediately got the car back and took it to the transmission shop 5 minutes from out house.

My car almost didn't make it there. My baby is failing me. Sure, she had over 100,000 miles, but I assumed the car would run forever. FOREVER. This really was my plan. The mechanic said it doesn't look good.

So now how can we justify our weekend of gluttony and expense (because what is the point of NYC if it isn't filled with gluttony?) when we have an impending, absolutely unplanned, expense that will have more zeros attached to it than I care to think about?

So we are holding our breath and waiting. Waiting for things to fall in place. It may take hours, days, weeks, but the answers are there. I just hope they are the ones we want to hear.

Sand & Sun

We're back from a weekend at the beach.

It was lovely. Normally I mean this sarcastically, but aside from a few ugly moments, it was perfect.

It took a few minutes, but Grace quickly warmed up to the feel of sand under her toes

and the rush of the cold ocean on her legs.

Then came the real fun with periodic breaks that included frantic dashes back into the ocean.

This 3rd annual family pilgrimage to the shore, did start around an event though.

This year was Matt's the 2nd anniversary of his first triathlon.

730 days, thousands of miles, 8 inches off the waist and he is a full blown triathlete.

Oh, and let's not forget to mention the fact the he was 48 minutes faster this year than in 2007.

He chose to follow this work out with a little 56 mile bike ride on Sunday

in preparation for the next big race.

While Matt burned thousands of calories, Gracie and I went on our own little walk.

Through the Prime Outlet Mall.

Yeah, we had a good time.

Freedom

My mom called with fabulous news yesterday.

She wants to come out here. (Nice news, but not fabulous.)

To watch Gracie. (Good news, but not fabulous.)

So Matt and I can escape for a weekend without her! (Yes, that is the fabulous part.)

Ahh. Vacation....

But then we started to flip through calender. The soonest this can happen, between her weekends off and Matt's triathlons is the end of June. The weekend after we were already had already made tentative plans to take a quick weekend trip as a family.

Now the conundrum - and what a wonderful one it is to have-

Do we still go on the family trip? (If so, it greatly reduces our ability to spend money the week after.)

Do Matt and I just go on a trip by ourselves? (And will we feel guilty?)

Do we say screw it all and just spend money we don't have like wildfire?? (Tempting, but not practical.)

Hmm. Like I said - what a wonderful problem to have.

Ádh na nÉireannach (Luck of the Irish)

When I went back to work today, one of Grace’s daycare teachers commented, “Huh, I thought only little kids got ear infections!”

Yeah, so did I lady.

Let me start from the beginning.

I had made plans to fly back to Chicago with Grace this past weekend to attend the South Side Saint Patrick’s Day Parade. It always makes my mom’s eyes twinkle when she talks about my picture, the quintessential daddy-daughter of me on top of my dad’s shoulders at the parade, being on the front page of a Southtown years ago. It was family tradition growing up and one I wanted to share with Grace.

Last Wednesday though, the phone calls started. I was away from my desk and told daycare to try my cell if they couldn’t find me. When I came back into a reception area, I had 7 messages. One every 15 minutes. At 2:15pm her fever was 100.5. By 3:45 she was up to 102.3. I felt horrible listening to the panicked phone calls from the daycare teachers.

Thursday morning I took Gracie to see Dr. H. Double ear infection. She’ll be better in 24-48 hours, just in time to fly back to Chicago.

Friday, Grace went to school. I stayed home. I was run down and spiking my own low fever. If I stay home today, I can just sleep it off and be all better Saturday morning I kept telling myself. Oh, and did I sleep. 19 of the 24 hours my eyes were shut.

I still felt bad Saturday morning, but got on the plane anyway. Promises had been made. Schedules rearranged. Leave taken.

When we landed in Chicago I had a fever of 99.9, but went house hunting with my brother. By the time we were done, my fever was 102.1. I was so tired I couldn’t think straight much less make plans for the next day.

So there it was. No parade. No green beer. No bagpipes. No throngs of South Side Irish (a few generations removed from the boat) singing and celebrating in one big green obnoxious mess.

*Sigh* Why did I come again?

Sunday was more of the same. I battled fever and fatigue while Gracie refused to nap.

As soon as I got home Monday afternoon, I went straight to the urgent care center to get checked out. You know it’s bad when the doctor gasps when she looks in your ears.

Diagnosis? The worst double ear infection she’s seen in ages with a case of strep throat to top it off. Oh- and don’t be kissing on your baby or planning to go to work for the next 48 hours she warned. Your highly contagious.

Ah – so it would be a bad thing if I had just spent the weekend around someone who is immune depressed, huh?

In my head, I kept thinking 'Ádh na nÉireannach'. Luck of the Irish my arse.

You’d better believe that I choked down a Guinness on St Patrick’s Day though. I didn't enjoy it, but this illness isn't going to take EVERYTHING from me.

T Minus a Few Hours

Wow. I'm looking at 7 days / 180 hours of internet free life. I mock Matt for his inability to go 24 hours without playing video games or sudoku. I guess I am just as bad because I think that is part of my nervous twitch right now.

We are packed. We are ready. The only things not in bags is my makeup, which of course I need at 4 am tomorrow morning, and various baby related items. I have been forbidden from adding a single shirt more to my suitcase. Hmm. That one may be hard to follow.

I will miss you. My family, my friends - which frankly, are one in the same.

No worries though. I will keep notes in the pilfered, have-used memo pad I stole from work. I guarantee you, there will be stories.

Until then ....

The Cubs Game

There is something amazing about Chicago sports. I’m sure other cities are like this, and I know that I am biased, but an outsider just doesn’t realize the passion of our fans. 100 years of disappointment folks. 100 Years!!

So despite the Cubbie loss on October 1, and eventual sweep, it was a good game and an amazing time.

In the true spirit of Chicago’s ‘we travel well’ motto, pre-game we meet folks in the exact same boat as us. Some had actually just gotten in – straight from O’Hare – from Boston. After sharing why we moved stories and spill $3.50 of my $7.00 beer on their coats, it was time to head into Wrigley.

Once inside the ballpark, we spilt for pee breaks and beer purchases.

On the way back to find Matt, I got sidetracked. Through my goggles of a slipped contact and 2.5 beers, I spotted a super cute guy a few feet ahead of me. Then he called my name. Who knew my hubbie was so toned and tanned from all the running! I guess I just had to slow down and literally see him though different eyes to really appreciate it!

The game went well until the grand slam in the 5th inning. Then things got ugly.

Right behind us we had hecklers, the funny kind, who also gave me sips of his Mai Tai, so they were cool.

Up above him though, we had a cynical, pissed off Heckler. Not so cool.

And up above him seemed to be the only Dodgers fan in the whole stadium, a 20-something chick that just could not keep her yap shut. Really not cool.

Well… the cynical Heckler got into it with the Dodgers fan. She got removed by ushers, as she was the opponent, so she must be in the wrong. The Heckler did say he felt bad that she got tossed, but that he wouldn’t have minded being able to shock her to get her to shut up.

I’m assuming she heard this on her way out, but cause a few innings later she was back. With full beers that I’m assuming were purchased with retaliation in mind, as she threw them all over the Heckler.

There was a lot of splash. Two full beers and all.

¼ of our section wound up leaving due to soggy pants. Eh, the Cubbies were way down anywho at this point.

During our trek back to the car, we stopped at Portillo’s and consoled our aching hearts with the most delicious hot dogs on the face of the planet.

Which brings to the most telling thing about our 48 hours in Chicago.

All I ate during that time was: Slim Jims, pizza, a hot dog, a burger, french fries, chocolate and beer. I might have had a Diet Coke too, but can’t recall.

In the end, it was the best trip back we’ve had in awhile.

Is That an Elephant on Your Back?

We are off to Chicago this afternoon for a 48 hour whirlwind adventure.

Being true to my nature, I am more tense about it than excited right now. It feels like an elephant is dancing a jig on my lower back. Though this time for slightly different reasons than the last trip.

My anxieties:
1) Missed naps.
2) Loss of baby infrastructure.
3) Containment of baby in the un-baby-proof house.
4) “Strange” people trying to put Grace to bed.
5) A cold and raining game.
6) Not getting to sleep until late, with an early morning baby wake-up.
7) Just trying to cram way too much into the time there.

The list could just keep going too. Even ignoring the obvious things I can’t change, like the weather, I feel like I can’t change anything on the list. We are not going to go buy $200 worth of baby crap for 1 day. We are not going to get back to my parent’s before midnight. We are not going to be able to cut essential activities out of the trip.

And so it is. I'll just have to suck it up. Our adventure begins at 1 pm this afternoon.

Damn Cubs better not disappoint. Or I’d better get drunk enough not to care.

Stretchy Fabrics Are My Friend

It is amazing how self perception can affect your mood.

My clothes are still in the ruins of vacation. While the majority of them did get cleaned, nothing was hung up. Everything is wrinkly again so it is easier to just rewash than iron. My work clothes had been piled up in the dirty laundry basket for a week sharing their smells with each other too.

Given this, I was down to the dregs of my wardrobe yesterday. This translates to only being left with items in my closet that I have a problem with. Too small, too big, too short, too stretched out, too casual, too ugly (why did I buy this in the first place?).

So I went with the best of the worst. Which was a combo of too big (shirt that makes me look even heavier than I am) and too short (pants that look like I am expecting a flood, especially when worn with socks, which I did, and were frankly borline too small.)

I was miserable all day. I have no idea why other than I felt schlumpey.

The fact that I really did gain 5 pounds while back in Chicago doesn’t help either.

I pulled out one of my favorite, most comfy outfits for today though. Straight out of the wrinkled clean bin, but I don’t care. It fits well and I feel good in it. Plus most of the wrinkles have already fallen out.

The point of all this?

An explanation of the irrational before my apology to Matt.

Sorry I’ve been moody honey. Things are much better today. As we both know, a new wardrobe does wonders for my world.

The Trip

Matt and I both repeatedly say, "We are from Chicago, but Maryland is our home." We mean it. Our family is often incredulous when we say it, like it is some kind of blasphemy. It is the truth though.

THE TRIP REPORT

The flight out:
It was actually fine. We arrived at the airport 1 hour 45 minutes early for the flight. We were past security exactly 15 minutes after arrival.

Hmm… now what? McDonald's of course. A Sausage McMuffin for me and a Fruit & Yogurt Parfait (sans strawberries) for Grace. On the flight she never really cried, and fell asleep 1 hour into it and woke just before landing. My ride was actually waiting for me at the airport. All was well in my world.

The triathlon:
The precursor to the tri was a trip to Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder. Not traditional Chicago fare by any means, but still our favorite.

Matt's mom, whom we haven't heard from since May, attended the event. (The lack of communication was due to her announcement that she would not be attending Grace's Baptism because she sprained her wrist 4 months earlier and it still hurt, therefore she could not endure the air travel.)

The highlight of the lunch was Matt's mom church voice singing and pantomiming the lyrics to the Chicago Bears fight song in the middle of the crowed restaurant, after her announcement that she would like Matt to take her to a game someday. Matt is a stoic individual who was able to maintain a straight face, but I did see at least one case of wine-being-shot-out-the-nose-because-of-stifled-laughter.

Matt finished the triathlon with a time of 3 hours 11 minutes and Jeanine did 3 hours 44 minutes. Matt was upset with his time, Jeanine was happy. I on the other hand, walked about 6 miles with a baby who refused to nap and a woman with a bad knee and glass in her heal. Matt says he is unhappy with how the event was run and will not participate again. I am glad.


Wisconsin:
We drove 8 hours- 4 up and 4 back- listening to Chipmunks CD's. Matt was playing the songs off You Tube tonight. We can't get them out of our heads & Grace baby dances to the most annoying one now.

To all the folks who say global warming is a government conspiracy, I might begin to believe you now. It was 40 degrees every morning up there and never got up past 82. Sure, it's north of Green Bay, but still, it's August!

We drank a lot and never really slept.

Matt is a very light sleeper, so he automatically went to the couch every night. While that means he didn't wake up with every squawk from Grace, even with Ambien he woke several times a night. I am a heavy sleeper and I don't think I ever slept more than 3 hours at a time. I often could only get Grace to sleep by draping her on my chest, with her feet kicking me in crotch and her head against my windpipe. It was lovely.

Despite those complaints, it was great to watch Gracie play with her cousins, Jack & Abby. It is always in those quite childhood moments that I am sad they don't get to spend more time together.


Lemont:
My parent's house is always the same. There is no plan. It drives me nuts.

Friday my mom watched Grace so we could go see The Dark Knight. I was thrilled.

On the way home I called to ask if she needed anything from the store for dinner that night before relatives arrived. She said no.

Five minutes after arriving at the house she announced that her plan was to go up the grocery store to buy bread AFTER company arrived so it would be fresh. I freaked and sent my brother to go
buy the buns and more beer.

Seeing my cousins was great though. My cousin Meg has kids
that are 1 & 2 years old. My cousins Gina & Kat are 17 & 15 years
old. It is always so surreal to see the changes in people when you are apart for extended periods of time.


Flight home:
I realized the night before flying home that I had no ID. Gracie's passport had been sent back with Matt in the car and my driver's license was (and still is) MIA. I had a mini meltdown and called the airline. They said it was OK, that I would just have to go through extra screening, so I should arrive early.

We got to the airport at 6:45 for a 9:25 am flight. (Making my brother 1/2 hour late for work.) Despite the extra screening, we were through security in the same 15 minutes as coming out.

Great.

2 1/2 hours with a kid at the airport. At least Midway is entertaining. We ate, we shopped, we listed to the guy with the thick Chicago accent (a la Blues Brothers) make announcements.

"The Cath-o-lick mass will we held in the Mezz-a-teen la-vel a-tree-um at 9 a.m. The mass la-asts one half of an hour. Thank You."

Then we got an the plane, where Gracie immediately fell asleep and woke to the sound of her daddy's voice greeting us at the baggage claim.

Ahh. We are home.

The Countdown

I am at the point where I am so tired that it is hard to think.

I was at this point on Tuesday. It is now Saturday. (I just had to stop for a few minutes to figure out what day it was.) I AM READY TO GO HOME.

Instead of writing in complete sentences I am going to just throw out numbers.

Here is the countdown:

10 - Number of bottles of wine consumed over the trip.
9- Number of mosquito bites on my legs. So itchy.
8 - Number of hours we listed to a freaking Chipmunks CD in the car. Damn songs are still in my head
7 - Number of times I became so irritated with conversations / circumstance that I left the room.
6 - Number of White Castles I consumed.
5 - Number of times I've checked my work email in the last 24 hours.
4 - Number of serious discussion I had with Matt about changing flights to come home early.
3 - Number of nights Grace slept on my chest like I'm a giant air mattress.
2 - Number of days I lost my flip flops, only to have them found under my luggage. (See #1 & 3)
1 - Number of nights out of 8 that I slept though the night.

More to come.

The Journey Begins

The journey begins.

It is starting with a brain that won't turn off to go to sleep, a back that is playing fun with spasms and my realization that the 1/2 glass of wine we have isn't enough to shut them both down.

I just want to get on the plane without incident. Then I just want to get off the plane without incident. Finally, I just want to get through our hotel stay Saturday night without incident.

Then let the incidents roll because I know if we can get over those three hurdles, everything else will be fine.

My ride to the airport informed me the other day that he thought I should get there at 6 am for our 8 am flight. I said I would prefer to leave the house at 6 am. That was two days ago.

Apparently my wishes fell on deaf ears, for tonight I was informed that he made a 7 am tee time at a local golf course. Which means he needs to drop me off BY 6 am.

Yeah well, I need you to entertain a 10 month old baby in a freaking airport terminal for 1.5 hours then buddy.

That's what I wanted to say anyway. Of course I didn't though.

He's doing us a multitude of favors this week. They are all owed to us though. Is it bad Karma to state that someone "owes" favors? I dunno, but he does.

So I am tense. I am setting up mini goals. First security. Pre-flight. Flight. Post-flight. Parents. Dinner. Hotel.

After hotel I am golden. I will keep you posted.

The Best Laid Plans

We were on our game last night.

By the time I got home with Grace, Matt had the kitchen straightened and most of his clothes for the week packed. We quickly ate our microwaved dinner of left over Chinese - part of my brilliant plan to order too much so I didn’t have to cook - went even more smoothly than I could have imagined.

I pulled out the list of baby supplies I need to pack and efficiently gathered them from around the house, managing to neatly pack everything into one easy-to-carry laundry basket to haul into and out of our many destinations.

By 8 pm we were completely packed, loaded into the car and sitting on the couch with a glass of wine.

This morning however was a different story.

Matt woke at 3 am to be driving east by 3:30. Ironically, the sound of the shower didn’t wake me, but the smell of the Dial soap did. Go figure, couldn’t hear him, but could smell the fresh, crisp scent of his soap.

Grace also slept through the shower, but woke to the faint click of the front door closing. At 3:35 am she was awake and crying.

I brought her into bed with me in the hopes that she would sleep a little longer. After using my stomach as a pillow for 20 minutes she laid back and snuggled against me.

UNTIL MY FREAKING ALARM CLOCK WENT OFF!!

I don’t like my alarm. It makes me angry every morning, but I keep it because it is so obnoxiously loud that I actually get up.

Grace doesn’t like it either apparently.

Before I could even get my hand close to the beast, she was screaming. I mean SCREAMING.

No matter what I did I couldn’t calm her down. After about 15 minutes I decided that she would just have to scream on her own, so I put her in her crib with every toy I could find. 30 minutes later she was still screaming.

Finally a warm bottle and lots of hugs did the trick. I’m sure the 45 minute nap she got on the ride to daycare didn’t hurt either.

Do I get a nap today?