Happy birthday to....

...Me! Yes, I turned another year older yesterday. I won't directly reveal how old I am, but let's just say that someone got invited to her 20th high school reunion this year. Yes, that someone is getting old.

Birthdays used to be a big deal to me when I was younger--I would take the day off and plan a night out. But as I age, I'm finding that it really doesn't take a whole lot to make my birthday.

Take yesterday for example. It was a work day for both K and me, so we decided to keep it relatively low-key. In the morning, I went to Starbucks to redeem my free birthday coffee, and was completely tickled when I saw the birthday greeting scribbled on my cup:

In the afternoon, I opened up my Facebook and was delighted to see a bunch of birthday wishes from folks from many different facets of my life: best friend, acquaintances, high school, college, grad school, work; you get the idea. It makes me realize at how little effort it takes to brighten up someone's day--just a simple, What's-up-saw-on-FB-it's-your-birthday-so-have-a-good-one message is all it takes. And it takes probably all but 3 seconds. So note to self, I will definitely be giving regular b-day shout-outs to folks going forward.

At night, we went to grab dinner at a kid-friendly restaurant, followed by a visit to the ice cream shop, where BBoy proceeded to feed ice cream to everyone at the table.

Then after the kids drifted off to bed, K and I settled in front of the TV to catch up on another episode of Mad Men.


It was a very good birthday, indeed.

My advice to parents who want to take their very young kids camping...

...don't. Hellz no. Unless you are a glutton for punishment, like K and I.

Back in our childless days, K and I camped a lot. We loved waking up to crisp, morning air (think Maxwell House commercial, the one where the couple emerges from the tent looking well-rested, smiling at the prospect of having the best cup of instant coffee ever). And at night, we love lingering by the campfire under the stars, sipping on wine, feeling completely at peace.

K and I had not camped since EB was born over six years ago. But lately, EB started talking about camping quite a bit. We suspected that BBoy was a bit on the young side, but we didn't want to deny EB the experience, so we decided to give it a try.

So what went wrong, you ask? It wasn't one particular thing but a slew of little, annoying things. First, it was the prep process. Since we had not used our equipment in so long, it took us days to get everything ready: take the equipment out of the attic, air it out, figure out what was missing, struggle to remember how to setup the tent, pack up the food items, etc, etc, etc. And since we were only camping for one night, our whole preparation-to-play ratio was completely off-kilter.

Regardless, everything looked very promising on the day of our trip. We loaded up the car and drove for an hour in sunny, 68-degree weather. We sang during the car ride, played "I spy," and upon arrival, took a few happy, silly pictures so we would be able to prove remember later just how much fun we were having.

We are having FUN, I say!

For dinner, I  made Frito pie with our portable gas burner, but I had forgotten how hot the burner could get. Within a matter of minutes, I ended up charring the ground beef, thereby infusing our Frito pie with an essence of cigarette ashes--it was quite the exquisite dish. While I was burning making our dinner, K was busy pitching our tent and getting everything ready (again, the prep-to-play ratio thing). During this time, EB decided to gather firewood and basically ignored BBoy. Poor BBoy wanted to keep up with EB, but his little legs weren't coordinated enough to negotiate the branches that were sticking out all over the place. He kept falling and breaking into frustrated tears and tantrums.

The one time that EB decided to pay attention to BBoy was
to torment him with her yellow flashlight

Charred dinner--complete. Tents--pitched.
The kids look happy, but Mom and; Dad need wine...

Our nerves were rattled, so after we were done with dinner and s'mores,  we got the kids in the tent and prayed for them to quickly drift off to sleep. For awhile, we heard giggles coming from the tent, and as K and I sipped on our wine in front of an open fire, we felt our nerves calm. All was good.

But then 15 minutes later: "Mommmmmm....B keeps on jumping on my head!"
Another five minutes pass: "Mmmmoooommmm...his butt is in my face!"
1 minute later: "Mommmm! I just want to go to sleep!
1 minute later: Tears from both kids.

K and I sighed, put out the fire, and turned in. We managed to separate the kids, calm them, and eventually, all of us slowly drifted off to sleep. Only to wake up in the middle of the night with our air mattress sinking to the ground. K and I wanted to pump up the mattress, but since the kids seem to sleep through it just fine, we decided to rough it. K and I barely slept from that point--we felt the hard, cold earth against our backs, which made the 42-degree air feel even that much colder.

The next morning, we decided to go for a quick hike. Both K and I were like zombies, which made us ill-equiped to handle the tantrums that the kids decided to throw during our hike. At that point, we knew that we were done; it was time to pack it up.

We got home that afternoon exhausted and cranky, with a car-full of equipment and dirty pots/pans/utensils to be put away (again, the prep-to-play ratio complaint). To top it off, EB received a little send-off gift--a tick that decided to burrow itself under her arm (would would've thought that ticks would thrive in sub-50 degree weather....)

So in summary, here are our learnings from the excursion:

• Camping truly makes for a fun family trip. Just wait until all of your kid(s) are old enough to be reasoned with, say 6, 10 or 35 years old.
• If you are going camping, make it longer than one night. Otherwise, the amount of time spent on packing, planning, putting up and taking down a camp site would not be worth the short visit.
• Make sure your air mattress is full and leak-free. Otherwise, you will have a rather cold night.
• No matter how cold it is, spray your kids down with DEET before sending them out to the woods.
• And bring more than one bottle of wine. It makes the camping trip better.

My Version of "Seven Up!"

Here is a picture of EB's latest masterpiece, descriptively titled: "My Favorites Wheel." In it, she documents her absolute favorite items in several categories.

As you can see, her handwriting skills are still a work in progress. To translate the scribbles, here are her favorite items as of January 2013.

• Favorite book: Captain Underpants
• Favorite animal: Lion
• Favorite food at McDonald’s (kind of a narrow, specific category): Chicken nuggets and chocolate milk
• Favorite food: Spinach (NOTE: For those keeping score at home, spinach has been displaced as of mid-March for a food to be named later.)
• Favorite color: Blue and black
• Favorite game: Angry Birds
• Favorite jewelry (not sure where this one stemmed from): Diamonds and silver
• Favorite funniest thing that happened: "When I put the 'hit me' sign on Daddy's back and I hit his back."

I think it would be interesting to have her update this every year so that I can track her changes—kind of like an annual version of the “Seven Up!” documentary series that has been tracking the development of a group of British people every seven years. Except, of course, my documentary would not really be a documentary—just a short little blog post on one girl's interests. And while my subject (singular, not plural) is infinitely interesting to me and K, it is just mildly amusing to our friends, and about as interesting as an ant on the sidewalk for strangers.

Binky in the Bottle

In the past few years, I have become more and more lax about list-making and "control" in general. The reason for this regression is that I've wizened to the fact that the concept of control is mostly an illusion. Sure, I can drive myself crazy and be all sorts of control freak--making lists, fretting, obsessing--but in the end, it really makes not an ounce of difference.

Besides, for the most part, K and I are pretty good at improvising when things go awry. As a case in point, we recently took the kids to Branson, MO for a weekend getaway. A few hours before we left, we ran around collecting various toiletries and last minute items. We were pretty proud at how quickly we were able to round up all of our things (and with two kids, we certainly had lots and lots of things), until we realized, upon reaching our destination, that we forgot to bring B's pack-n-play. And of course, this particular hotel did not lend out any sleep furniture for the kids-- no cribs, no pack-n-plays, no cages. We were left to fend for ourselves.

K and I scratched our heads, but figured we'd make do. We surveyed the room, and decided to surround the bottom of the kids' bunk bed with three chairs and a couple of suitcases. The effort earned us A+ in efforts but D- in safety. B was ecstatic; he thought that we had built him his personal jungle gym. Instead of sleeping, he climbed around the chairs, laughing like a drunken little troll. After an hour of cajoling and a near-nose dive from his bunk bed, K ended up driving to the nearest Walmart, where he become the proud owner of yet another pack-n-play.


Despite our minor memory lapse, we did remember to bring this:

...along with a couple of bottles of this: (it's the important stuff, right?)

Later that night, we realized that we forgot to bring a cork stop to keep our remaining bottle of wine fresh. But fear not, as K managed to improvise with this:

Gives a whole new meaning to the concept of nightcap.

Disney Delayed

OK, so this posting is, like, four months late, but there's no way I am going to let the kids' first Disney trip slide without documenting it for posterity. After all, if we are going to spend all that money traveling to the Happiest Place on Earth (TM), we need to be able to brag write about it.

Let me preface this posting by stating that having kids who are five years apart has both distinct advantages and disadvantages. On the plus side, we have quite easily adjusted to a life with two kids since EB was already somewhat self-sufficient by the time B came along. On the down side, it's nearly impossible to find activities that are compatible for both. That's why when EB expressed an interest in going to the Disney World early last year, my first thought was: Hell, no. I imagined having to simultaneously deal with EB's whining AND B's multiple meltdowns/diaper explosions. And what's worse, we would be surrounded by a sea of whining, germ-y kids with their cranky parents who had financially overextended themselves by wanting to make their precious ones' dream come true. But you can only hold out for so long, so when my parents offered to meet us in Orlando so that they could watch B while we took EB to Disney, we knew that it was finally time for EB and Mickey to meet.

We rented a condo near the theme park and for three days, B got exclusive rights to grandpa/grandma doting sessions while the rest of us--K, EB, me and my brother (he decided to tag along at the last minute)--zipped around the theme parks. We were determined to get most out of our Disney investment, so our moves were plotted with military precision: "OK-- I'm going to run ahead after this log flume ride and get the Fast Pass tickets for Magic Mountain. You guys go to Hall of Presidents to see the talking wax figures and I will meet you back there. If the show starts before I get back, text me and I'll go to the nearest gift shop to wait until the show is over. Now let's fan out--GO, GO, GO!!"

A bit stressful some would say, but I say, given the cost of the tickets, a queuing strategery was a requirement. Yes, we were that family at the park, and we had a blast, so there. We were able to get on most of the rides with very little waiting, which is important because on an 85+ degrees day, waiting and happiness very much have an inverse relationship .

Smile! You're at the Happiest Place on Earth (TM)!

"Hi. I'm five years old."

Ten-hut!

EB had an absolute blast, and managed to keep her whining down to a minimum. The only times that she got grumpy was when a Disney staff called her a "princess," as in:   
   "Well, hi there, Princess!"
   "Is this your first trip to Disney, Princess?"
   "See you later, Princess!"

In fact, every time a Disney staff used the dreaded "P" word on my little tomboy, she would go all teenage on me and give me this sullen, indignant look:

Don't call her a "Princess." Ever.

On day four, B got a chance to join us at the MGM Studio (read: grandparents had to fly down to Miami to catch their cruise). It was definitely more challenging to tote around a one-year old, but by then we had had worked most of the Type-A Disney impulses out of our systems. Meaning, we were pretty exhausted, so we were relatively content just strolling around the park at a leisurely pace.

Look Mom, I'm at Disney World!

Hands on experience at "Honey I Shrunk the Kids"

The little dude had no idea what was going on.

Having a blast on "A Toy Story" ride

Overall, it was a great trip: quality time with family, lots of sun and a zip-a-dee-doo-dah of a good time at Disney World. Who could ask for anything more?

A Way With Words Year 3 + Season Premiere

This is my third annual installment of capturing funny little EB-isms. She's growing up so fast, I'm hoping that I have another few years before these funny little EB-isms become full-on bratty, ungrateful EB-isms (did I tell you that I'm a bit fearful of the tween/teenage years?)

While I'm at it, I thought I'd start throwing in some B-Boy-isms for a good measure.

The Latest EB-isms

"Jesus of God"
EB is in awe of the mightiness of God and the all-loving figure, Jesus. So much so that she goes around calling Jesus: "Jesus of God." Technically speaking, his name is Jesus. And he is the son of God. So by deductive reasoning, it probably is not inaccurate to refer to him as "Jesus of God."

"Georgia Washington"
If EB were a historian, we would all think that one of our Founding Fathers was actually a Founding Mother.


"I will wear it when we go to church"
Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been...uh, never since I've had my last confession. And it's been over a year since I last went to church. My little tomboy knows this all too well, so whenever I try to buy her a twirly, girly skirt, she looks up at me, smiles and says: "Looks great, Mom! I'll wear it when we go to church." Translation: at the rate we are going, it'll be another year or so.

"Cheese grill sandwich"
Like the French, EB sometimes puts her adjectives behind the described noun. For example, instead of saying: "blue sky," the French refers to it as "le ciel bleu" (direct translation: sky blue). So instead of "grilled cheese sandwich," the girl is going all Francophone on me by calling it "cheese grill sandwich."




Season Premier of B-Boy-isms

"Go!" (pronounced "Gah!")
He likes to repeat this over and over as he climbs up our stairs, as if he were a Little Engine that could.

"Uh-oh!"
Uttered when he purposely throws his sippy cup, bottle and food onto the floor.

"Na-na" (banana)
Self-explanatory

"Geh?"
When uttered while pointing to grapes, it means: can I have some grapes? Otherwise I will scream my head off. When uttered while pointing to my iPhone, it means: can I hold it? Otherwise I will scream my head off. And when you give it to me, I will test gravity and drop it on the floor.

"Ma-ma!"
Uttered when he is in a cuddly mood. This one always melts my heart:

Six-Years Old!

My baby girl turns six today. Six! At six years old, am I still allowed to call her my baby??

Happy birthday to a little girl...

...Whose imagination and ingenuity always brings a smile to my face. Here is her solution to battling the wind on a particularly blustery day: a mask fashioned out of an old colander and a pair of work goggles. A bit Friday the 13th-ish, but my little Jason is adorable all the same.
 

  
...Who has a strong (read: stubborn) sense of style. Did you notice that in the above two photos she is wearing the same sort of outfit? I assure you that we buy her plenty of clothes, most of which she will have none of. Here's a rundown of her daily "uniform":

• T-shirt. It's always a t-shirt. If it's cold, she will wear a long sleeve shirt with a t-shirt on top. If she wants to shake things up a bit, she will wear a zip up fleece over her t-shirt. But, it's always a t-shirt.
• Jeans. This girl is forever in blue jeans. ("Because they look cool")
• No buttons, ever. Unless it's on a pair of jeans. She has a serious fear of buttons. Kinda odd.

   ....Who is turning out to be quite the little artist.

  

...Who doesn't quite get the art of a good punchline yet.

Her most recent joke went something like this:
 EB: "What did the cat say to the mouse?"
 Me: "Not sure. What?"
 EB: "I'm going to chase you!  And then, the mouse says, 'No, please don't chase me!' And he runs away from him, across the street!" Uproarious laughter ensues.


 Happy Birthday, EB! I love you!