Just Cause for a Shy Streak and Some Fun

Last night Alexis and I were flying solo as Mr. Husband had to attend an alleged work event until way late in the evening. Of course, we did what any intelligent women would do--we went out to dinner and then did some shopping. It was the first time we've done that in quite a while, so it was startling to realize it's actually, dare I say, enjoyable to have a girls' night out with the kid.

I figured I would make it all about the Toddler, so I asked her what she wanted for dinner. Always one to dream big, she said peanut butter and jelly. So, off we headed to the nearest Panera for a pair of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. But when I got there, I realized that there was a new Mexican joint in the same little complex. I have never met a burrito I didn't want to inhale, so I overrode the Toddler's choice, knowing that she has never met rice and beans that she didn't want to shovel at top speed.

I was very right on that account. The Toddler shoveled that rice and those beans so fast and so furiously that it looked like a herd of wedding guests throwing Mexican rice at a bride and groom. I was actually feeling bad about the disaster zone until the server made a face when she saw it, then I started helping Alexis throw more food to the invisible dogs on the floor. I seriously would have cleaned up what I could if she hadn't gone all sourpuss on me. Now I figure that's what they get for only having forks bigger than my head. It would take a brain surgeon's precision and a crane to lift one of those forks full of beans neatly to a little pie hole.

Midway through the floor re-texturizing project, the REALLY drunk lady at the next table over suddenly took an interest in my little interior decorator. She came stumbling over, slathered herself across the table, and LOUDLY asked the Toddler about the Minnie Mouse on her shirt. I don't know what scared the Toddler worse--the giant uncovered boobs that were right smack in the middle of our table, the smell of half a box of wine radiating from the lady's pores, or the WICKED LOUD VOLUME OF HER RANTS. The Toddler leaped from her chair, landing right smack in my lap. She buried her face in my neck and didn't come out for a good ten minutes after the drunken whore finally stumbled back to her dinner with clients (no lie, she was trying to sell them something or other).

The Toddler has always had a Michigan J. Frog sort of quality about her. She loves to make people laugh and lives to entertain, just so long as nobody makes eye contact with her. Seriously, she will be laughing and jabbering and generally being a little clown, but if somebody so much as says "BOO" to her, she goes running to her mommy or daddy and hides for ten minutes. I've noticed that her shy streak is getting worse as she now won't say "please" or "thank you" or "bye bye" to strangers (she consistently did just two months ago). I'm thinking drunken whores have scared her shy.

Once we escaped the drunken whore, we managed to hit quite a few stores. I must have missed the memo, but apparently kids actually outgrow that whole "I'm going to run around like an idiot, bouncing like a ping pong ball off the walls, and I really don't care what you do. BYE!" phase. Six months ago I would have been lucky to make it through one store with the Toddler in tow. Now that she SUDDENLY is willing to hold my hand? We hit like ten. It was weird, and yet, delightful.

As we wrapped up the shopping spree, the Toddler turned to me and said, "This is fun." I think that means we need Daddy to have more alleged work things so we can enjoy more girls' nights out.

Make it happen, Mr. Husband.





(Just in case you thought I was the only cruel one in the house, here's proof that the Toddler enjoys inflicting pain on Baby Shell.)

Yup, She Was a Breastfed Baby--I Have the Mileage to Prove It

I don't usually participate in this sort of thing, but Sarcastic Mom encouraged peeps to share their breastfeeding stories today, and I thought it seemed like a good opportunity to throw a little something under a nice big bus. I've always been pretty quiet about my biggest challenge associated with breastfeeding because it seemed just so plain ridiculous. Well, that, and I didn't want to give any hints as to how I was managing to lay low.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

Right from the start, Alexis was a breastfed baby. I was home with her for essentially the first six months of her life, and while I wanted to use her head as a hockey puck a whole slew of times in those early days when latching felt like an alligator clamping down, we really didn't have any major problems. She never had a single drop of formula and I was able to build up a decent stockpile of frozen liquid gold. Then I started working. Along with that, of course, came the need to pump at least twice per day.

That topic was one that I had discussed with my future boss when I interviewed, so I wasn't really expecting to have any problems with it. I was very, VERY wrong in my expectations. At first, I was told that I could just use a vacant office for those two brief disappearing acts. But midway through my first week, I learned that the office was slated to get an occupant. My supervisor didn't have any ideas for alternatives, so I emailed the Human Resources Department. Nothing. So I emailed again, this time copying the HR Representatives supervisor. I got an answer quick, but it basically said, "Use a restroom or reserve a conference room. The end."

Now, I don't know about you, but I'm not game for making my own food in a bathroom, so I wasn't really game for making my kid's food in a bathroom. Besides the fact that it's a gross idea to me (I compare it to taking the Foreman grill in there and cooking up a hamburger--would you do it?), it was a logistical impossibility. The restroom housed two stalls, neither of which had an outlet. The only outlet happened to be right by the door. Silly me, I've never had aspirations of putting on a peep show complete with wondrous sound effects. So, the bathroom wasn't happening. The conference room idea was just plain dumb given that there is a major shortage of conference rooms in that particular building, so they are impossible to get. Oh, and there's the small manner of most of them having windows in the hall and none of them having working locks on the doors. Again with the discrete issue.

Maybe now would be a good time to mention that my former employer was a very large hospital system. As in, one of the twelve largest and one of the most profitable in the United States. There are over 45,000 employees, including over 4,000 physicians. Last year, that particular non-profit organization reported NET profits of well over $500 million. I worked in the Corporate Headquarters, just a few stories down from one of the best paid CEO's of a non-profit in the nation. Anybody else see a wee bit of a problem with the lack of appropriate accommodations?

Anyway, when it became clear that the Human Resources Department was full of useless idiots, I devised a plan. I would go down to my SUV twice a day, every day, and sit in the back seat and pump. It was an underground parking garage, so it was relatively dark and my tinted windows afforded for a small amount of privacy. Of course, I can tell you that at least four people saw things they probably wish they hadn't, but it was a livable option.

Then I was told I needed to move over to a different building. It made a fair amount of business sense, but the new building was a warehouse. With even less in the way of accommodations. And no parking garage. The only viable answer was still the car, but this time there was an outdoor lot complete with LOTS of traffic (for you Pittsburgh folks, it's on the South Side right between the FBI building and Carson Street--yeah, high traffic). Obviously, I couldn't just sit in the parking lot with my boobies hanging out and various machinery hooked up. So, I went cruising for options. I ended up finding a car wash where I could park my SUV in a stall and only have potential traffic on one side of me. So that's what I did, every day, twice a day, for months. Four months in fact.

The lack of accommodations severely hindered my ability to be efficient in my breaks, I was less productive at work, and I was constantly stressed. Trying to maintain a professional schedule and needing to drive ten minutes just to pump milk really put a strain on me. I skipped lunch to make up for the lost time, I pumped in the morning before leaving for work, I pumped in the evening after work, and I nearly always brought work home with me in a feeble attempt to balance it all. I can tell you that many important people at big giant hospital system were aware, and not a single one actually gave a crap. Not a one made any attempts to make some sort of accommodation. In fact, when Alexis was nine-months old, a high-level manager told me, "Isn't your daughter almost a year old? It's time for her to quit getting breast milk anyway."

Moron.

*smoke comes out of ears*



*deep breaths*



*more deep breaths*



OK. ANYHOO, Alexis and I made it to 13 months. She never once drank a single drop of formula, and overall, I'd say we had a very positive experience. Our only real challenge was making sure she had ample supply while I was at work. THAT was a significant struggle every.single.day. Looking back, I have no idea how we made it, other than to take it one day at a time. It sure wasn't with the help of one of the nation's leading health care systems.

Roam Around the Dinner Table

As residents of Pittsburgh, we are required by law to venture to our local dive restaurant, Primanti Brothers, for a meal at least four times per year. I'm pretty sure that failure to do so will result in us losing our Cool Burgher licenses. So tonight we fulfilled our civic duty and went to indulge in sandwiches piled high with fresh-cut french fries, eggs, cheese, tomatoes, and coleslaw. (For you non Burgh-type people, yes, you read that right. A sandwich can hold all that stuff in between its two slices of bread and you can even throw some meat in there, if that sort of thing makes you happy. While your arteries may want to explode just looking at it, you belly will be screaming at you to eat! faster! already!)

For whatever reason, the Toddler was being extra-cute as she went against the laws of Pittsburgh and dissected her sandwich (Fellow Cool Burghers, do not fear for she was also eating Pierogies. I think that means she gets to stay in the Cool Club, in spite of her obvious faux paus.). I carry my handy dandy little camera in my purse, so I whipped it out and took a couple of shots. Behold the cuteness:



As I was taking the photos, it occurred to me that something was amiss. I have tons of cute pictures of the Toddler eating, but every single one of them is more deceptive than a campaigning politician. All of my photos of the Toddler eating show her sitting down and actually placing food in her mouth. Uh, that happens approximately 2% of the time. Here's what really happens at mealtime:



Way back in September when Alexis kicked her high chair to the curb, I didn't realize that she was also kicking my happy little rule where we all sat at the table while we ate to the curb as well. Mr. Husband and I ate sitting on the couch for years, but when Alexis started to eat real food, I decided I wanted us all to eat at the dining room table, together, and with the TV off. It took me a few days to clear all the crap off of the table we had never actually used for eating a meal, but it was worth it. We acted like a family. I know! Amazing!

My happy little world was shattered when the confining beauty of the high chair became more of a battle than it was worth. It didn't take long before Alexis decided she didn't want to eat at the big person table at all, she preferred her little craft table. I let it go since she was at least sitting nicely somewhere. But that didn't last long. Before I even realized what was happening, she turned into a roaming eater. I don't think she is capable of chewing food unless her feet are moving. Really, it's like she's a goat or something. She pauses long enough to shove some food in mouth then goes back to grazing around the house.

The only time I see her consume what I consider to be a reasonable quantity of food is right after she gets home from school. Every day, she inhales a bowl of raspberries or blueberries. She is always running to and fro, all over the house, dragging out every toy she can find whilst balancing her little bowl in one hand and sucking the berries down faster than a Dyson. I usually follow her around to make sure she doesn't drop one of those $15 berries on the floor (Have you seen the price of raspberries lately? And why can't the kid eat cookies like everybody else?). I don't know how one manages to inhale berries while playing, I just know that she does.

At dinner, she rarely manages to swallow more than a bite or two of my gourmet cooking, and her little feet are in motion the entire time. If she's not walking back and forth between rooms and adults, she's dancing while balancing a macaroni noodle on her spoon. I honestly don't know the last time her bum actually sat in her chair. As for meals out, she usually manages to sit like a normal human being for 7.6 minutes. If food arrives in that time frame, she will sit and eat it nicely, sometimes even giving the mistaken impression that she is perhaps a bit lady-like. But once the timer in her head goes off, she's up and doing her best to roam like a B-52. (Do you have the song stuck in your head now? I do. Rooooam if you want to. Rooooam around the world . . .)

I know I should be glad that at least she's not playing Duck Duck Goose, but would it kill the kid to sit down and eat once in a while?

(I just know Miss Michelle from daycare is currently thinking that Alexis always sits and eats nicely at school. I am convinced that y'all drug or beat the kids in order to get them to do it. It's not normal for 20+ kids to sit in a chair at the exact same time. I refuse to believe othewise.)

Things I've Learned in the Past Week

- If you thought it was a wee bit embarrassing when your Toddler screams "Mommy potty" while using a public restroom, it will be exponentially more embarrassing when she yells "Mommy pooping" and someone a few stalls down, as if on cue, unleashes some sounds that you didn't know could come out of a human being. And then everyone sees you with the Toddler at the sink and thinks you are the disgusting person.

- You should never, ever step on the crack between an elevator and the floor outside. Instead, grasp tightly onto the wall, as if hugging it, and carefully step as far as you can across the threshold. Don't worry about the door closing because Mommy will hold it, thus irritating all other elevator passengers.

- If you thought it was gross when your Toddler went digging for buried treasure in her ear then promptly stuck the shovel/finger in her mouth, wait a few minutes. She will wait until you've forgotten all about the incident, start sticking her tongue out at you in hopes that you will follow suit and then will swipe her nasty little earwax-covered finger down your tongue. Mmmm . . . I know you're all jealous you didn't get some of that.

- Bulldogs do not like to wear coats, but they will if it means they can stay warm.



- Restaurants do not give out purple crayons. I know this because I save all the crayons Alexis gets when we eat out and stuff them in my purse for future use. (The girl LOVES to color.) After months of doing this, we still don't have a purple. I realized it yesterday when I really needed purple to finish my pretty picture.

- It's not a good idea to allow your Toddler to fall asleep in the car then wake her up when you get to the hotel. If you do it four nights in a row, she'll think that she's supposed to wake up in the middle of the night and will continue to do it long after you return home.

- It's really fun to run through the halls of a hotel. It's even more fun to yell while you run through the halls. Mommy will join in because if you're going to pay to be somewhere, you might as well have as much fun as possible doing it.



- Whatever this thing is that Alexis has caught, it's kicking her little butt. If she's not fever free all day tomorrow, she's going to have to go to the doctor. Germs suck.

- You can read Ten Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed as many times as you want, discussing the dangers of jumping on a bed each time; it won't make a difference. When you put cousins together, they will jump on the bed. Repeatedly. At least none of these Monkeys fell off the bed:








(Thanks, Ashlee, for the Monkey photos!)

Halloween in Review

Happy Halloween! I bet some of you are here thinking you would get to see cute pictures of one little Toddler wearing the Halloween costume that she picked out all by herself. You would be wrong. I took her to the mall to have professional photos taken while wearing the costume (which I'm almost afraid to admit went really well) but they haven't emailed them to me yet. Since we returned, we have asked her about 15 bazillion times if she wants to dress up again and she says "NO!" We are talking about a kid that has worn that costume every day since she got it, sometimes for hours on end. But, hey, why wear it when it's time to Trick or Treat? Just because Daddy offered to take her around the neighborhood doesn't mean that she should cooperate, after all. And for those of you who haven't had the pleasure of meeting the man, he could have sincerely offered to house monkeys in his butt and would have gotten less of a shocked reaction from me. The man does not do holidays, especially ones that involve knocking on strangers doors and begging for candy. I fear Alexis may have missed the one and only time he will make that offer.

While I do not presently have photos of Alexis in her costume, I do have other photos worth sharing. First, here's the lovely decor in the front yard, including my Uncle Larry:


You know you think Uncle Larry is a sexy beast. Don't try to hide it.


The Toddler who would not go Trick or Treating did assist with the candy distribution. It was probably only so she could make sure nobody stole her Kit Kats. By the way, you don't need someone to unwrap a Kit Kat before you eat it. It tastes just dandy with the paper left on it.




After the candy distribution came the pumpkin carving. Apparently, if you are suffering from a wicked sugar high, you need to climb way up high, on top of the table, in order to assist with the carving activities.



To be honest, though, the scariest part of this Halloween was at lunch when I made the critical error of feeding the Toddler a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.


Who knew she would try to lick the jelly off the bread?

Happiness by Any Other Name Should be Chocolate

There are times when I'm not entirely sure that Alexis is genuinely my child. When she eats an entire can of lima beans in one sitting, I suspect some foreign DNA must be involved. But then the kid who was too busy sliding out on the deck to acknowledge that I've been calling her for ten minutes will magically hear the muffled crackle of a candy bar wrapper and come running, and I'll know that's my girl. Honestly, I'm far more likely to pay attention for chocolate than I would be for my Mother, so I understand where she's coming from. And I find myself disturbingly relieved that chocolate has finally caught her attention.

Alexis has been a health food kind of kid for as long as I can remember. One of the first signs I had that I was pregnant was that I suddenly had zero interest in ice cream, french fries, and chocolate. And for those of you that know me, you can attest that pretty much all I eat is ice cream, french fries, and chocolate. I went through most of pregnancy unable to stomach the mere thought of junk food, let alone the taste. Clearly that weirdness was because my body had been invaded by a foreign object, and that foreign object prefers healthy food. Give her a choice between cookies and lima beans, and the girl will take the lima beans. While I'm all for it, I can't claim to understand.

So it came as a bit of a surprise to me when Alexis started to become a chocolate thief. Really I had no business buying Halloween candy over three weeks ago, again last week, and again today. I knew I would end up eating it at every available opportunity, but I didn't expect Alexis to start toddling up to me with her Frankenstein arms, pleading for a little piece of chocolate heaven. I have created a monster, and I think I'm proud of it. The smile in this picture? It's in celebration of the Kit Kat that is making it's way to her happy little mouth.

The More You Know

Allow me to impart some very valuable knowledge . . .

* Cheap crayons SUCK. Stick to Crayola.
* If you leave the water on long enough, the garden hose will explode. The Husband will probably explode as well, however, so you may not want to try this at home.
* A one-year old can figure out how to unlock a deadbolt, open a door, and run like Forrest straight into the street. Lather, rinse, repeat.
* You can survive on funnel cakes alone. It's easier to do if you have strawberries, ice cream, and whip cream handy.

Random

1. Recently I have taken to wandering the streets of a certain part of the Burgh that is chock full of college students. I find them fascinating, what with their young and oblivious ways. Take, for example, the lovely blokes who are currently camped out protesting the Iraq war. At first I thought it was all very cute. I personally never went through a phase where I thought going on a hunger strike would change the world, but I think it's just adorable that these four kids do. I imagine that they have pictured the results of their hunger strike as follows:

W is sitting in his big, white house talking to one of his drones and asks to see the live camera action from all over the US. (What? You don't think he watches us on super-top secret video cameras? Whatever, let's pretend that he does.) He pans down on Oakland, PA and spies four bewildered college students and reads (Yeah, yeah, yeah, pretend he reads, too. It's needed for the story I'm trying to tell.) on one of their signs that they are on day 11 of their hunger strike. He looks to his advisers then proclaims, "By golly, those kids are right! End the war now!"

Somehow I don't think that's how the story will end, but good for them for trying to make a difference. I do have one request for them while we're at it: just because you're not eating doesn't mean you shouldn't bathe. I'll think you're even more adorable if I can't smell you from down the block. Thanks!

2. I have a bye week in Fantasy Football this week. Try to hide your disappointment.

3. Alexis has FINALLY added the word "down" to her vocabulary. I taught her to say "up" in about 1.2 seconds a few months ago. The problem was that she decided that "up" is used for any change in position. So she was saying "up" to get up, and "up" to get down. That was all fine and dandy for a few days, but then it started to irk me that she can say "Everybody Awake!" (thanks a lot, Rachel), but not down. So I started trying to teach it to her. I'll be damned if she couldn't figure it out. Finally, within the past few days, she has started to say "down." Anytime "up" doesn't get her the immediate response she was looking for, that is. Up Down. Up Down. Up Down. In rapid succession. That's 90% of what comes out of her mouth these days. I do good work, don't I?

4. If you think I'm done being salty about this Starbucks thing, you are WRONG. Fall is ruined, RUINED I tell you, because of that 11 cent price hike. (What's that Starbucks? You didn't think I remembered how much a Grande Nonfat with Whip Pumpkin Spice Latte cost last year? Oh, but I do remember. $3.96) I know 11 cents probably doesn't sound like much, but that little price hike adds up fast. Really fast. You see, we donate all of our change to Alexis' piggy bank. She has accumulated quite the chunk of change that way. So last year she got 4 cents every time I bought my latte. This year, if I were to buy one (which I won't), she would be getting 93 cents. So really, that latte would cost me a whole extra dollar. Times five days in a week=$5. Times a whole lot of times that I would drink one=way more money that I'm willing to add to my coffee budget. Grr.

Did I mention that I'm just going to buy my Nonfat Caramel Macchiato every day to make the Pumpkin Spice Latte pain go away? It costs $3.75 to melt away the hurt. Perhaps I should go on a coffee fast and see if Starbucks will lower their prices. Or perhaps I should just shut up and show you a cute picture of Alexis sitting on a giant turtle statue at the Zoo. We'll go with that.

I Will Not Pay $4.07 for a Grande Nonfat with Whip Pumpkin Spice Latte

I am Poor.
I am Poor.
Poor I am.

That Poor-I-Am!
That Poor-I-Am!
I do not like
that Poor-I-Am!

Would you pay that for a latte?

I will not pay it,
Poor-I-am.
I will not pay it
Poor-I-am.

Would you pay it with some cash?

I would not pay it with some cash.
I will not pay it with my little stash.
I will not pay it, Poor-I-am.

Would you pay it with some credit?

I would not pay it with some credit.
I will not pay it with my debit.
I will not pay it with some cash.
I will not pay it with my little stash.
I will not pay it, Poor-I-am.

Would you pay it with other means?

I would not pay it with other means.
I will not pay it in your dreams.
I will not pay it with some credit.
I will not pay it with my debit.
I will not pay it with some cash.
I will not pay it with my litte stash.
I will not pay it, Poor-I-am.

Would you pay it in a loo?
Would you pay it in a drive-thru?

I would not pay it in a loo.
I will not pay it in a drive-thru.
I will not pay it with some credit.
I will not pay it with my debit.
I will not pay it with other means.
I will not pay it in your dreams.
I will not pay it with some cash.
I will not pay it with my litte stash.
I will not pay it, Poor-I-am.

Would you? Could you?
In a rush?
Pay it! Pay it!
Here and now!

I would not,
could not,
in a rush.

It's not so bad.
You will see.
You can pay it
with a fifty!

I would not, could not with a fifty.
Not in a rush. Now let me be!

I would not pay it in a loo.
I will not pay it in a drive-thru.
I will not pay it with some credit.
I will not pay it with my debit.
I will not pay it with other means.
I will not pay it in your dreams.
I will not pay it with some cash.
I will not pay it with my litte stash.
I will not pay it, Poor-I-am.

A gift card! A gift card!
A gift card! A gift card!
Could you, would you,
with a gift card?

Not with a gift card! Not in a rush!
Not with a fifty! Let me be!

I would not pay it in a loo.
I will not pay it in a drive-thru.
I will not pay it with some credit.
I will not pay it with my debit.
I will not pay it with other means.
I will not pay it in your dreams.
I will not pay it, Poor-I-am.

Say!
In the cold!
Here in the cold!
Would you, could you, in the cold?

I would not, could not
in the cold.
Not with a gift card. Not in a rush.
Not with a fifty! I said let me be!

I would not pay it in a loo.
I will not pay it in a drive-thru.
I will not pay it with some credit.
I will not pay it with my debit.
I will not pay it with other means.
I will not pay it in your dreams.
I will not pay it, Poor-I-am.

I will not pay that for a latte!

Overheard in the Burgh Baby's House

Alexis: I'm hungry.
Me: Do you want a snack?
Alexis: Yes.
Me: Do you want strawberries, grapes, cheese, or crackers?
Alexis: Grapes, please.
Me: Here you go.
Alexis: Thank you.
Me: You're welcome.

Pretty mundane, right? That's what I thought at the time. But a few minutes later, while our 18-month old sat in her chair in the living room eating her grapes, I realized something. That was like an actual conversation, complete with good manners. It's almost like Alexis is a real human being or something. A polite human being. A year ago at this time she still wasn't crawling, and now she's nearly human. Amazing!

Random is Fun!

1. I have graduated to Mummy status. It's not quite Mommy, but I've still decided to start allowing olives again. I am the nicest Mummy of all time, I know.

2. When I put Alexis to bed, she's all "I would like to go to sleep now, please." When Daddy tries to put her to bed, it's "Well the $#%^ do you think you're doing? Hold me! Where's Mommy? I HATE YOU! Where's Mommy?" I had a work event this evening, and I'm still trying to pick up the pieces from the calamity that is Alexis + Daddy alone at bedtime.

3. A certain little narcissitic one-year old was looking at pictures and videos of herself on the computer earlier today and came across this oldie. There are about ten more animals in that book (whose pages she didn't land on that day) and she knows the sign for every single one. I'm not proud or anything.

Best Phone Call Ever

I still hate phones, but daycare just called me and I must admit, I'm so glad they did. For that call was the most amusing of amusing calls of all time.

Me: Hello? (Much hesitation in voice because wise and cherished caller ID already warned me it was daycare -- that can't be good.)

Daycare Owner Lady: Hi Burgh Baby's Mom. It's Daycare Owner Lady. Nothing is wrong with your baby.

Me: OK. (Much confusion in voice because if she's not sick, then this really can't be good--did she beat somebody up for touching her Play-Doh?)

Daycare Owner Lady: Can you pick Lexie up by 5:00 today? We're calling everybody because babies are throwing up all over teachers and teachers are a mess and we need to close early so that we can clean up and can you pick her up by 5:00?

Me: No problem (Still confused--I always pick her up before 5:00. Is there some sort of traffic disaster in my future that will prevent me from driving 11 miles in under 1.5 hours? Is there? Because if so, I'm leaving now. Oh and there's a little annoyance in my voice as well because I'm thinking "Freakin' frackin' don't call my kid 'Lexie' for goodness sake, you can call her Lex, Alex, Ali, Kinnley, A. Mac, or Poopsy for all I care, just don't call her Lexie. Grr.")

Daycare Owner Lady: Oh, good because it's really just such a mess here and wow the teachers are really just a mess and kids are throwing up all over the place and . . . (There was more, but my little brain lost the ability to focus on the run-on sentence and promptly shut down.)

Awesome, for -oh- so many reasons.

1. If I have to get puked on, everyone should get puked on. Yay!
2. Nobody bothered to tell me this thing was going around daycare last week. So take that! teachers and Daycare Owner Lady who didn't think it would be appropriate to tell me the flu was making the rounds. It circled right back to you, now didn't it?
3. That was the first time Daycare Owner Lady called and I actually got more than three words in. I consider that a personal victory.
4. My kid is not one of the sick ones. Oh wait, that's because she already had it. Darn.
5. The call came at 11:00 am. That's lunch time at daycare. Picture the scene as 50 maybe 60 kids all sit down to eat lunch then they start to get sick, one after the other. While I really do feel bad for the kids, that is still an awesome little image in my head.
6. There will likely be lots of absences at daycare tomorrow. Yay! More attention for Alexis!

Randomness (Again)

1. I don't know what everyone was freaking out about yesterday. I picked Alexis up at 4:30 and she was totally fine the entire evening. No whining, no cranking, no Tylenol, just her usual self.

2. We went to the Pittsburgh Children's Museum today. I can now say the Indy Children's Museum sucks. I downgrade it to a C.

3. After the Musuem, Alexis achieved greatness by throwing up all over herself and her car seat. Mmmm . . . my car now smells like grape Yogos. After dinner, she tried to shoot her dinner at me, but missed. Mmmm . . . chewed up grapes. The best one, though, was after I cleaned her up from dinner and was putting a new pair of pajamas on her. She didn't miss that time.

UPDATE: Daddy made popcorn. Alexis saw the popcorn. Alexis installed an extra stomach in her little body specifically for the purpose of holding popcorn. I'm really hoping that extra stomach isn't feeling as cranky as her other one because I'm really, really tired of cleaning puke off of Alexis and me.

ANOTHER UPDATE: The popcorn stomach wasn't happy either. Poor kid :-(

My Hero's Name is Motrin

Dinner out with the one-year old who is currently mastering the art of channeling her inner Linda Blair was fantastic. Oh, and how! First, on the way to my favorite pizza place of all time, I made the critical error of looking at Alexis. Oh. my. god. I. will. never. do. it. again. Unless Alexis wants me to. In which case I don't know what I'll do because she might go all le freak on me again. So I tried reattaching my head as we pulled into the parking lot and OH NO THEY HAVE THE WINDOWS OPEN. Yeah, last time I checked, it was like 95 degrees and like, it was so humid you could swim through the air and like, Yay! the air conditioning is broken. Because Pepporoni's is that good (and there isn't anything else we like near by, unless McDonald's suddenly counts, which it doesn't), we went in. The pizza was fabulous, the salad was yummy, the service was spot on, the one-year old was bipolar. Up. Down. Mommy. Daddy. Hungry. Not Hungry. Thirsty. Not Thirsty. Up. Down. You get the picture.

Sweet Thang kept up this act all night and all through the morning. I responded by pumping some Motrin down her throat and sending her to daycare. They get paid to deal with teething lunatics. I get paid to deal with grown-up lunatics. Sounds about right. And I should be getting the "Alexis isn't feeling like herself" call right around 1:00 when the Motrin wears off and our child is repossessed by the Molar Teeth Ripping Through Gums Demon.

Obviously, Burgh Baby has lost her head.

Diagnosis: Teeth

Oh. My. Lord. Alexis woke up this morning and decided she is 2. It is not pretty.

Alexis: "Up"
I pick her up.
Alexis: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" (Allow me to translate. That means, "What the hell do you think you're doing? PUT ME DOWN NOW.)
I put her down.
Alexis: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. UP. UP. UP." (Translation not necessary.)
I pick her up.
Alexis: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH" (I would translate, but I have no freakin' idea at this point.)

Later . . .

Me: "Do you want something to eat?"
Alexis: "Yes."
Me: "What do you want?"
Alexis: "Cracker."
I hand the kid a cracker. She promptly launches it at me with enough velocity to take out an eye. So I open the fridge for her.
Me: "What do you want to eat?"
Alexis grabs a container of yogurt and starts laughing like a mad woman. She laughs so hard and for so long that tears start to come out of her eyes. I try to give her a spoon and open the yogurt. Let's just say I'll be cleaning up the yogurt spatters all over the kitchen walls for the next six weeks.

Best part? We're going out for dinner tonight. THAT should be great fun.

Random

1. Daddy woke up in the mood to clean. Four hours later, the house was spotless. He rocks.

2. I would like to publicly apologize to the fine shoppers of the Robinson Giant Eagle. You see, I was looking for apricots when it all transpired. I was not present for the Gala apple shopping with Daddy and Alexis. I tried to find all the ones with Alexis bite marks in them, but I'm sure I missed a few. Sorry about that.

3. I taught Alexis a very, very important word tonight: Steelers.

4. Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeelers! Football!



5. One last thing, I'm very disappointed in y'all for not commenting on yesterday's video. Grandparents, I'm talking to you.

Homage to Pukey Head's Dad

I should mention that I did very little clean-up after the Pukey Head incident last night. And for that, I say that Daddy rocks. Or has a stronger stomach than me. Or is a sucker. You decide.

Mmmm . . . Spinach and Artichoke Ravioli with a Side of Milk

Pukey Head managed to convince her teachers at school today that she wasn't really a pukey head so she didn't get sent home. But since Pukey Head just projectile launched her dinner across the dining room, I'm thinking maybe Pukey Head should have spent her day at home. She and I have a date with a toothbrush, so enjoy this new family portrait.

Random Conversations

Daddy (to Alexis): Quit eating my watch. One--it's not very nutritious. Two--I don't want you eating my watch.


Me(to Alexis): Quit eating the dog food. It can't be good for you.


Me(to Alexis): Don't eat those baby wipes. Here, have some blueberries. They're better for you.


Daddy (to me): Alexis ate a strand of your hair. Want to know how I know?
Me: NO! . . . That can't be good for a kid.


Detect a theme?

Enjoy the Silence . . . if You Dare

All parents know the Moment. You know, the Moment when you realize that you are about to walk in on something you probably don't want to see. I had one of those this morning.

I was trying to pack for our return trip to the Burgh (we are back, by the way). Alexis was "helping" me by grabbing things out of the suitcases and delivering them to various parts of the house. This had been going on for about twenty minutes when, suddenly, she didn't return to load up on more loot. I knew at that Moment that I should go exploring for the Kinnley Bear, but I waited and instead enjoyed a few moments of things actually going in the suitcases and staying there.

But then there was the sound. Or rather the lack of sound. All you parents know that total silence is never a good thing. My silence was followed by a slurping sound. At that point, curiousity got the best of me and I decided to go find out what had occupied Alexis. Fortunately, there was a camera nearby so that I could capture the moment.






Clearly, our daughter has spent way too much time around dogs. Oh, and that was was used water that she was drinking like a dog. In fact, it was Meg used water, so that's probably a special blend of water AND slobber on Alexis' face.