Woven and Spun

I usually never post twice in one day – lately, I’m actually lucky to post twice in one month, but I had to get down the experience of this day. It started off very well, which should have been an immediate indication that something harrowing was right around the corner. I, however, skipped about in blissful naivete…until it all unraveled.

During the school year, I am/will be babysitting for a friend who has a six month old little girl. It helps them out and us out, and it gives Drew a chance to try out the sibling experience. Right now, he’s not doing so well…but I’ll save that for another post.

Anyway, back to my harrowing tale -

Both babies took a gorgeous two and a half hour nap this AM, so I figured they would be well rested and happy to take a quick jaunt to the store. Although going out with two is much more difficult than just one, I’ve determined to occasionally attempt it in order to maintain my sanity, give them a change of scene, and to practice before any potential offspring arrive. So, we headed to Toys R Us to pick up a few things for the Birthday Boy (Drew turns one tomorrow!).

Shopping went fairly well, even though I couldn’t decide between some things. I solved that dilemma quickly by just purchasing all conflicting items. It was the obvious thing to do…of course. When we hit the checkout line…bad things began. One cashier open, three people in line all being held up by one couple arguing over a sale. Is there a manager in the house?? The poor cashier called for one three times before someone finally responded. During this time, Drew tried to push little Ana out of the shopping cart – what a good big brother he’ll be someday, don’t you think?

I grabbed him quickly while the woman in front of me checked out. Then it was my turn. Ana was in her infant carrier in the back of the cart. The toys were piled below, and my diaper bag with wallet was below Ana – and Drew was in my arms. Thus began a juggling act worthy of Barnum and Bailey’s, complete with a briefly misplaced wallet and price check on a set of plastic construction trucks. Finally rung up and loaded, I headed for the door only to discover that Tropical Storm Faye-that-won’t-go-Away had chosen to drop another lovely rain band on our area. Just perfect – Ana ended up getting only a little wet, Drew slightly damp, the gifts would need some drying off, and I…well, I needed a change of clothes.

In the car, I checked the receipt and realized that two items had rung up wrong even though I had pointed it out to the cashier as she was ringing them up. She had said, “Oh yeah, you’re right.” But she never changed a thing. Oh the agony of that internal debate – face Faye again while hauling merchandise and two infants or eat the overcharge. Looking at the already high total, and imagining my husband’s expression when he saw it, I knew I had to go back. Ugghhh – I tromped in and a mere twenty minutes later, I deposited our soggy selves back in the car.

At home, I pulled into the (unconnected) garage while trying to formulate my exit strategy. Both kids were ready to go straight down for their PM nap, so I decided to take Drew, who was still awake, in to bed first and then come back quickly for Ana. Our garage smelled like gas fumes from the supplies we had ready in case Faye wiped out our electricity, so I didn’t want to leave Ana there for long. We went swiftly in and up to bed, but just as I was laying Drew down, I heard an awful noise…and then I felt it on my arm…and then I smelled it. He had just vomited what looked like his whole lunch (thus, the now grotesque title of this post). Never in his entire human existence has he ever done that. No, he’s been saving it all up for today. So, brief recap – Ana in the car, fumes in the garage, Faye outside, and vomit boy in my arms. Nothing to panic about – AHHHHH!!

I ripped Drew’s clothes off, wiped him down, dropped the poor boy in his bed, and ran to rescue Ana. She was completely fine, sleeping blissfully, but woke up when carried through the rain to the house. With her down for a nap, I tackled the carpet in the bathroom which had taken a hit when I pulled off Drew’s clothes, and then noted that once again, I desperately needed a change of clothes. I scrubbed myself down, changed my clothes, threw all offensive materials in the washing machine, and and sat down to write this post. Because, how could a day like this possibly go undocumented…

Drew and I often play the “Where is it?” game where one of us will hide something, and then I put both hands up and say, “Where is __________?”  Then with a big grin, he ‘finds’ whatever was missing.  Yesterday, he was sitting in his high chair eating lunch while I worked on the computer in the kitchen.  It was one of those wonderful days when Dr. Daddy was home all day – Drew loves those days and so do I.  Dr. Daddy had just gone upstairs to shower.  As I looked over at Drew, he put both hands in the air and said, “Deah, Daee?” with obvious inquisitive inflection in his voice.  And he waited patiently in that posture while I picked my jaw up off the floor.  After the shock subsided, I said, “Daddy went upstairs.”  Satisfied with my answer, the little man went back to eating his lunch as if our little exchange was the most natural thing in the world.  He never ceases to amaze me.

Drew and I are just recently back from a week long vacation to visit family in Albany, NY – oh so much fodder for blogging, and oh so little time. So, this post is dedicated to the two traveling days there and back. All I have to say is “All hail Southwest! All hail the Travelmate! And way to go, Drew!” I’ve never flown Southwest before, and with the recent rash of airline debacles and hardships played out on the news I was very concerned about flying, especially with a stranger-phobic 10 month old. But, despite two delays (caused by weather), the trip went very smoothly, much of that thanks to how well Southwest took care of everything. Flight attendants helped me with baby and baggage and the flight crew moved us on to our destination as quickly as humanly possible.

Second words of praise go to the Travelmate by GoGoKidz. It’s an attachment that puts wheels onto your carseat. I was able to load Drew into his seat and wheel him through the airport with ease. I just checked it at the gate whenever the flight was too full for his seat, and it was there for us when we got off. Drew loved it – he thought he was a king on a roller coaster or something.

Finally, I have to brag on my unpredictable little superstar. This was his first plane ride, and based on recent behavior, I wasn’t very hopeful. The child fusses at everyone that walks through our front door, and balks at most new environments, unless he’s glued to me, of course. Well, he was close to angelic the entire time.

On the way there, the flight was not full on either leg, so I was able to bring his carseat onto the plane without paying for a seat (a trick I highly recommend if you can swing it). He smiled, laughed, played, ate Cheerios. He was great! He only fussed twice – the first time was when I had to change his diaper on a blanket on the floor of the back of the plane (no changing table in the bathroom ) but hey, who can blame him on that one. And the second time was during the last hour of the flight – he was just done with the whole trip, and, honestly, so was I.

On the way home, he suddenly became Mr. Social Butterfly. The flight attendants couldn’t keep their hands off him, and he was eating up all the attention. I just kept looking at him and saying, “Who are you??” He certainly did not resemble my son. He only fussed briefly before falling asleep, in the most awkward position possible, for his nap, and then at the end of the flight, everyone was crowding around him saying how perfect he was and trying to tickle him…then, he started bawling. I guess he’s just too humble to handle so much praise – he obviously gets that from his mother .

(Title should be read in your best Schwarzenegger accent)

I seem to have developed a tumor- a twenty-two pound screaming growth that shows up every night right around dinner time. My symptoms are loss of hearing, stemming from the blaring ‘mamamamamama’ that emits from said tumor, lack of mobility caused by the tumor’s appearance on one or both of my legs, and a loss of patience…and sometimes my sanity. The doctor had the audacity to insist it was normal, and offered me no reprieve. In desperation, I consulted an exterminator, but he just walked away chuckling. No one seems to be the least bit concerned about this harrowing new development. So, I’m stuck – dragging this darling ten month old across the floor as I prepare dinner. I can only hope this condition changes sometime before he’s thirteen…

Our guest bedroom is quickly becoming a baby gear junkyard for all the items Drew has out grown.  I just added a new, and now useless, item last night to the growing heap.  Houses in South Florida don’t have basements or attics, so our only storage options are the garage, where things need to be able to endure the humid, flaming 100+ temps, or our guest bedroom/baby gear junkyard.  I know I shouldn’t use the term ‘junkyard’- Lord willing, the items will become ‘new’ and exciting again for Baby #2 some day.  But last night while looking for a corner where I could stash the baby bathtub that will no longer hold my baby, I got a little sad..and a bit incredulous.

How is it possible that just 7 short months ago, Drew seemed to shrink in the surroundings of the bathtub or the swing or the bassinet part of the pack-n-play?  The bassinet bit the dust first when Drew began rolling and threatened to ‘dismount’ as Tim calls it from the pack-n-play to the floor.  Although I’m sure his form would have been graceful, I’m also sure he would not have been able to stick the landing, so the bassinet had to go.  The next item was the treasured swing.  I think I actually shed tears the day I had to pack that one up.  It was worth every penny spent on the endless D batteries the thing required.  It provided hours of peace and bliss from Drew’s fussy periods.  Not that I left him in there for extended periods of time…honest…

Anyway, one tragic evening, I looked over to see Drew sitting up in the swing and leaning over the edge to retrieve a toy off the floor.  My screeching mad dash across the room to catch him was the sad end to that activity.  I went through several days of denial where I would look longingly in its direction when Drew reached his evening fussy time, but the fear of having to take Drew to the emergency room with his first concussion finally won out, and the swing went the way of the bassinet.  And last night, as I said, I carted the infant tub to the ‘junkyard’ as well.  I realized it was time to put that item away when I went to lift Drew out of the bath and the tub, wedged to his thighs, came with him.  Bye, bye blue bathtub – you saved me from the backaches of bending over the big tub, not to mention the joys of not having to clean the whole big thing…I will miss you.

So, tonight I sit looking around the living room wondering what baby item I will eulogizing next – will it be the jumper or exersaucer or the walker?  I cringe at the thought of each item ‘biting the dust’, and even moreso at the proof it provides that my little man is growing up.