I Rocked The Boat

Today started in a flurry. Our polling place is between our house and daycare, and I very much so wanted to vote on my way into work. So Alexis and I rushed through our morning routine so that we could leave extra early. However, after twenty minutes of standing perfectly still in line at the polling place, I decided to bail. I figured that given the proximity of the place, it would be no problem to get back there later in the day, and there probably wouldn't be a wait.

I was right on that account. After work, I pulled into a nearly empty parking lot with Alexis in tow. I hauled her butt up into my arms so we could rush through the poorly maintained parking lot, working hard to keep her from flailing with one arm while the other tried to dodge toddler kicks and shove my keys in my pocket. We needed to hurry if we wanted to make it to gymnastics on time, so I was happy to see that there was no line outside the building. As we neared the door, a woman stood from her orange plastic chair. I assumed she was a kind soul and was either going to assist me in getting to the correct line, or was going to be super-polite and open the door.

I was wrong. Instead, she reached down and grabbed a stack of brochures, flyers, and other assorted versions of dead trees. She tried to thrust them into my already occupied hands as she "recommended" that I vote for her candidate of choice (it's irrelevant which candidate that happened to be). Without any hands available to grab her pointless literature, I simply said, "No, thank you" and tried to walk around her to get to the door.

She slid over. She blocked the door. She then set into a lecture about how I really need to vote for the, "right candidate. The only man who will protect woman and children."

A string of perfectly justifiable obscenities floated on the tip of my tongue, but the lack of earmuffs for little ears meant those words really couldn't take flight. Instead, I muttered, "Excuse me, I'd like to vote now."

The little ears were in fact paying attention because Alexis chimed in, "I want to go to boat, too!"

I hesitated. Normally I would repeat the word the correct way, but frankly the vote/boat confusion sort of amused me. So instead I asked Alexis, "Would you like a red boat or a blue boat? Totally your choice tonight."

It sure was fun watching the rude, overbearing roadblock process the question, Alexis' response, and then seeing her head explode when I agreed to vote for the Toddler's boat.

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Note to Alexis: At the precise moment that the National news was officially declaring that we had elected our first African American President, you were wide awake. You were standing in your room, screaming at the top of your lungs. I'm betting you weren't the only American to poop their pants after hearing the news. ;-)

A Doting Mother

Have you ever met one of those crazed Must Cover the Baby people? You know, the ones that dress their newborns in five layers of clothing, then stuff them into a snowsuit, wrap them in blankets, and shove them in a car seat with one of those Nifty Covers? They are the same people that lose sleep trying to make sure that the kid stays swaddled 24/7 then fuss every time the temperature drops below 50 degrees, constantly worrying that the kid is not warm enough.

I am not one of those people. Alexis just has never been the kind of kid that wanted to be covered. She fought swaddling tooth and nail which was fine by me. So what if she wanted her arms out? When Alexis was born in late January 2006, we didn't even have a winter coat for her. She went home from the hospital in a sweater, and the lack of a coat issue wasn't resolved until the next winter. I just didn't see the point in buying a winter coat for a month or two. I figured the nifty cover for the car seat was sufficient, and the fact that Alexis was always a sweaty ball of hot fury just reinforced for me that I didn't need to bother with several layers. To this day the kid sleeps in sleeveless night gowns that tend to flutter up around her waist and positively refuses to keep covers on herself. I figure if she's cold, she'll seek out a blanket. Not worth my stress.

So, you see, I am not responsible for this:

No, it is not me who is the Heat-Conscious Helicopter Mom. That dubious honor would belong to none other than the stalker formerly known as Alexis. She is CONSTANTLY monitoring Cody to make sure he is adequately covered. If he so much as twitches, Alexis rushes over to adjust his blanket. The poor little guy doesn't seem to mind the never-ending doting. It's a good thing, too, because Alexis isn't willing to listen to the voice of reason. You know, the voice that keeps telling her he has a fur coat and REALLY doesn't need a blanket. Or, for that matter, a pillow. I'm also pretty sure he doesn't need tucked in with his stuffed dog.

I think it's safe to say that Alexis will not have to admit to turning into her own mother. Not yet, anyway.

What Happens When Six Little Eyes Plead with Me

Introducing Cody (or at least that's his name today), a 13-week old Havanese.

Heaven help me.