You get what you get...

I was thinking.....about how I could take this opportunity to fill you all in on the state of things here at Chez Trace, Jeff, Ave & Gav.

About how, 2 weeks ago, Massachusetts was hit with an "unprecedented" and "record setting" rain storm that brought with it MAJOR flooding, road closings, water damage, detours, flooded basements, homes, etc...

About how, in the aftermath of said storm, we realized that the entire downstairs playroom/office carpet was SOPPING wet. And the carpet needed to come up ASAP to prevent potential mold and rid our house of that yucky mildew smell.  And how we thought to ourselves, "Well, let's look at the silver lining here; We've always wanted something different for this room, so let's turn this catastrophe into a great opportunity to (finally) revamp it to our liking." 

And how we went to Lowes for paint & primer and supplies, and Lumber Liquidators for (lots and lots and lots of boxes of) beautiful new Pergo flooring. And how we enlisted the help of approximately 18 various family members, neighbors, and friends for support in such a feat. And how....6 days of ripping up carpet, priming walls, painting walls, disinfecting the floors, laying the new floors.....6 FULL days of help from amazing friends & family....finally resulted in a gorgeous, (semi-finished) room with floors that were glossy. and new. and smelled like delicious, expensive wood floors. (you know, the kind you can see yourself in because they are so shiny. the kind that just beg you to replicate the infamous 'Risky Business' slide-across-the-floor-in-knee-socks scene, just because you can.)

They were beautiful.


And then, how that "unprecedented" storm came back yesterday. With a vengeance. It was angrier than last week. Nastier. Wetter, colder, faster.  Stormier. Just plain mean.

And with a husband away on business, I tried my best to lay sandbags outside our foundation to prevent these brand new, shiny floors from falling victim to Beast of a Storm, part deux.

"Tried" being the operative word in that statement.

Unfortunately, I failed.

And so now, I sit here typing this as good neighbors & friends have come back to our house help salvage what we can.  I hear my husband ripping up the floor boards that, 72 hours ago, he took so much meticulous pride in cutting & laying.

I hear sump-pumps being restored, wet-vacs sucking up water, and disheartened grunts and groans among grown men.  There's no two ways about this...it just plain sucks.


But...like I said at the beginning of this entry, I could tell you all about this....

OR, I could tell you something pretty freakin' adorable, and happy, and warm-&-fuzzy that happened amidst the chaos today.

As I sat defeated on the basement steps, sighing heavily while confirming my suspicions that water had in fact infiltrated once again.... My little girl put her arm around my waist.


"Momma? What's wrong?" she innocently asked.

"Nothing baby, Momma is just upset because we have more water in our floors."

"Momma? Can I tell you something?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Pinkalicious always says,  'You get what you Get, and you Don't get Upset.'  You always tell me this so I am reminding you now. Don't be upset Momma. It will be okay, I promise. Now can we PLEASE stop being upset, and go upstairs to make a Big-Top cupcake to surprise Daddy when he gets home tonight?!"  


My heart immediately became full and happy as I wrapped my arms around her for a good squeeze. 


"You are absolutely right, Aves," I said. "This is a pretty silly thing to be this upset about, huh?"

She nodded in agreement.

And then, we went upstairs to do this:

In conclusion, a MASSIVE thank-you goes out to my little girl, for reminding me today that sometimes, all you need is a little over-sized cupcake therapy to brighten an otherwise gloomy day.

:-)

Just another Avaism to brighten your day...

"Mommmmmmmmmmm!!! Come in here QUICK!"

(I frantically run from kitchen to living room to see what pressing issue warrants my immediate attention.)


I find her sitting on the couch, her face completely muffled in her shirt, making dramatic gagging noises.

"What's wrong?!"  I ask her.

Face still muffled in her shirt, she disgustingly points to her baby brother who is crawling on the floor nearby.

"It's Gav. His breath is TERRIBLE and it's making me gag. Will you please go brush his teeth?"

 I bring my nose to the little man's sagging diaper, and my suspicions are confirmed: The culprit of this nauseating smell is actually a poopy diaper, and not a rare case of infant halitosis.

"Honey, it's not his breath....it's his bum!"  I state, with a chuckle.

"Well ...can you go brush his bum then???"

Ava, on old age:

"Momma, I think I've finally realized why old people have to walk with those walkers."

"Really? And why is that?"


"Because it's a long, long walk for them to get to heaven."



...and with that, my heart melted. My little girl says the most amazing things sometimes...and it makes me so proud that her little mind and her little thoughts work in such remarkable, touching, BIG ways.

And who woulda thought....it figures.

Perhaps Alanis should have added this little anecdote to her infamous ditty-o-ironies in that 1995 hit song...

Jeff impulsively purchased a big-boy cell phone plan last week. (This, after 14 years of a "free" Radio Shack "employee" plan that was no longer making sense financially since he somehow kept going over the "generous" plan allotment of about 12 minutes per month with no free nights or weekends.)

I was very, very proud of him. Way to take the bull by the horns and do something completely impulsive for a change, babe!, I thought.

His weapon of choice? Why a brand spankin' new iPhone 3Gs, of course.  And just as immediately as he had signed away his first-born in a binding 2-year agreement with AT & T, he was in love.

iPhone love.

He sat for countless hours on the couch with her, whispering sweet nothings into her speaker. Caressing her soft, silky, touch-screen, app-filled curves with his fingertips. Singing to along with her. Sneaking out to the car with her at night for some alone time. Feeding her chocolate covered strawberries on a bearskin rug, in front of a roaring fireplace.(While elevator-inspired, saxophone renditions of early 90's Boyz II Men songs serenaded them.)

I was beginning to feel like a third wheel in my own house...Tres bizarre.

On day five of this love affair, he drove to work.

It was a Thursday.

And at lunchtime that day, he called me on the verge of tears a very manly breakdown.

Upper management had apparently called an "important" meeting that day. And to paraphrase, it went something like this:

"We know that a bunch of you have iPhones, however they just aren't secure enough for use at our company any more. Having said that, after today, we will be issuing you all...brand new BLACKBERRIES!"
(*this is the part where Jeff's heart stopped beating for a few minutes straight, and he went into a semi-permanent state of shock.)

And just as immediately and as intensely as he had fallen in love in the first place...he began a four-day (and very textbook, might I add,) journey through Kubler-Ross's Stages of Grief.

Stage 1: Denial. "This cannot f**king be happening right now! I mean, come ON! Are you SERIOUS?? I FINALLY cave and get a plan less than a WEEK ago-a plan that allowed me to be fully connected at all times at work, and at home- and now I can't even use the phone!? This is a joke, This is a sick freaking joke....I don't believe it."

Stage 2: Anger.  "This is BULLS**T! I am pissed. Seriously. I just spent a week learning and falling in love with the iPhone. I've downloaded all of my contacts. My apps. My music. My pictures. How do they expect me to go from the iPhone to THAT? It's like going from a Lexus to a Kia. Ridiculous, that's what this is. F**king ridiculousness..."

Stage 3: Bargaining. "Ok Trace...Fine. I get it- you are going to get the iPhone and I will one day be okay with that, but can I just spend the rest of the weekend with her? I promise, that's all I need. Just one more FULL day. Let me just use the ridiculously convenient touch-screen Chipotle App ONCE more to order myself a Carnitas burrito without EVER having to take my finger off the screen and/or speak to a live human being...Just ONE more time. Please. That's all I am asking..."

Stage 4: Depression. Well, folks-- this is where we are today. And where we were yesterday. And, come to think of it--the day before that, too.  He miraculously seemed to whiz right through stages 1-3, but we are at a standstill here at stage four. As I write this now, he sits sulking on the couch, staring down at the very unfamiliar (and not as sleek) scroll-ball based Blackberry. He detests it. His face is pinched and mean when he looks at it. Almost like he's mad at it. Resentful of everything that it lacks. The navigation bars and menus aren't as intuitive, and the lack of a touch-screen is something to be mourned. My heart aches for him, and I feel tremendously guilty that I have inherited the previous love of his life. (Was it wrong of me to adorn her in a stylish new pink and purple 'Speck' case today-- a far cry from the masculine black one that he had dressed her in for the first 4 days of her life?? Too soon....?)

Stage 5: Acceptance. I am hoping that we reach this place soon. VERY soon. He has been moping around the house like a 6-year old boy who lost his pet goldfish for 3 days now, and frankly, he's got to move on. Honey, if you are reading this, PLEASE pick yourself up by your bootstraps and truck on ahead.  The Blackberry isn't the worst thing in the world. At least it's FREE, right?! That's pretty huge. (which is also what she said.) It will help us trim some of the financial fat from our budget and you can still use her on the weekends, okay? Just keep telling yourself that it's not goodbye, it's "See ya soon"...



 And that, my friends, is way more ironic than ten thousand spoons when all ya need is a knife. Or, rain on your wedding day. (Which, I've always felt, falls far more appropriately under the category of "bad luck" than "irony," no? And while we're on topic, isn't wedding-day rain actually supposed to promote luck? I digress...)

The silver lining to all of this is?  Why, of course, that I have adopted one pretty cool little gadget! I went from a 2005 flip-phone to a George Jetson-worthy apparatus in under a week. And contrary to Jeff's beliefs, I am actually very excited about all the fun things I'll be able to do with her!  (So what if my only favorite "app" at the moment happens to be Ava's Zoo matching game?) I've only had her for a day. Give me some time. Allow us to get to know each other....and I'm sure that by the end of the week, I'll be just as head-over-heels gaga about this adorable little contraption as my hubby once was- in a lifetime a long, long time ago.

Send it Back, Dad!

While eating lunch at Uno's today, Jeff ordered a house salad with bleu cheese dressing.

A few minutes later, the salad arrived.

Ava, who was sitting next to her Dad, looked over at this salad, pointed, and declared:


"Dadda, you better send that salad back RIGHT now!"

"Why, what's wrong with it?" he asked her, puzzled.

"Well, I heard you say to the waitress that you wanted BLUE cheese. But this cheese it white. They definitely brought you the wrong one."

And instead of engaging her in a lengthy (and possibly stomach-turning) explanation of soft cheeses and what the "bleu" part really is....Jeff just looked at the salad, looked at her, and stated

"It's okay honey, I'll try this white cheese for today."


Gotta love life with a 4-year old  :-)

ONE-handed cruising?!? (Also known as, "My life is over soon")

 He's not yet 9 months old... but snapshots like this make me realize how impending this whole walking business really is. Yikes!

St. Patrick's Day photoshoot FAIL:

Fortunately, a few minutes later everyone ("everyone" = "Gav") was a little bit happier and we were able to snag at least a few decent photos to commemorate the 1/8th Irishness that exists inside of them today :-)

...And of course, a few obligatory shots of Aves on her way to school, completely St. Patrick's Day-ed out from head to toe. She was VERY impressed with this little get-up!

"Just a WEE bit Irish...socks"  How appropriate!



HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY 2010!!!!

Allow me to fill you in on the past few days:

1). First chiropractic appointment with Dr. M on Monday afternoon. Findings: My neck is straight. Which in theory, (and from my stick-figure drawing days,) sounds like it would be an okay thing. However from a Chiropractic standpoint, "straightneck" is a very bad condition. Apparently, your neck is supposed to have a natural "C" curvature to support the massive 8 pounds of noggin that sits atop it...and mine has increasingly, over the years, lost this curvature and progressed into a straight line. In addition to this, my lower back pretty much sucks and the distance between the disks is eroding...so we need to work on that, too. He pretty much told me that I will need to be seen three times a week for four weeks in the beginning (I will apparently have to start raiding my childrens' piggy banks and/or playing guitar at Alewife station to make this happen, since my insurance covers NONE of this...) and then once a month for maintenance thereafter. But really, how can you put a price tag on your health? And so with financial apprehension (but high hopes of physical relief,) I began treatment Monday. And overall, this first visit went well except for 3 teeny, tiny things:


A) While explaining the towel exercise I was to be doing at home every night, Dr. M said to me (of the towel that I was to use), "Make sure it is at least a nice thick 6 inches in diameter and FIRM when you grab it. It will feel the best this way, especially while lying on your back." (Now if that doesn't constitute a Global "That's What She Said" award, or at least a close runner-up, I don't know what would...) I had to avoid eye contact with Jeff at all costs in the aftermath of this statement, as to not burst into completely juvenile, inappropriate laughter in front of a very classy, very professional, very crisp-collared Dr. M.


B) Let's just say that my first adjustment laying on the table could have gone...better. He first adjusted my spine, which meant that I was laying on the table on my belly. That was an easy enough position for me to get into, considering I was able to look down, see the table, gauge where I needed to position myself, and lay on it. Cake. However when he told me that he was then going to do my neck and that I would need to lay on my back on the table-- it was a completely different story. Mainly, because my neck and back are so ridiculously stiff & immobile right now, that I am unable to turn my neck at all to see where I am going. (think Tin-Man in Wizard of Oz: "Oil....oil...") That said, as I was attempting to lay on the table, I apparently over-shot the distance between the donut-shaped thingy (that your head is supposed to cradle itself in,) and--well-- Dr. M's crotch. Yup, that's right folks. Visit #1, and I lay my head directly upon his PENIS. With an abrupt "Whoops, let's just scoot you down a little more," and a humiliating few moments of silence that ensued, Dr. M and I both somehow ended up surviving this completely shameful ordeal. (Sidenote, I'm sure Dr. M's little patient file for me probably now reads something like "Watch out for this skanky little whore. She'll won't stop at anything, including faking "stiff-neck" to cop a back-of-her-head-feel of manhood regions...")


Now for those of you who may still be unclear as to the visual of this circumstance, I have taken the liberty of attempting to illustrate it for you. (MAJOR DISCLAIMER: I am not an artist. Not even close. My 4-year old daughter draws better stick people than I do, no lie.) Having said that....allow me to "illustrate" for you the turn of events that took place at the chiropractic office on Monday, March 15, 2010.

PHASE 1: Dr. M is quite happily waiting for me to lay on my back on the table. Please note how his crotchal region hugs the donut-shaped area where my head is supposed to lay:

PHASE 2: "The incident" occurs:

PHASE 3: Complete, painful awkwardness for many, many moments.

C) And for the third and final reason why this visit didn't pan out so well:  I had a miserable stomach ache the ENTIRE duration of the appointment, but attributed it to a new medication that I had taken earlier that morning....I was wrong. Which leads us to tidbit #2 of "filling you in on my week."



2). Got slammed with the STOMACH BUG that everyone who is anyone in New England has acquired in the past month. I thought we'd escaped it here, but alas, no. Immediately upon arriving home from the Chiro, my stomach ache was way worse, waves of nausea were coming faster and faster, and I was shivering. Freezing cold. Add warm comfy jammies, a down comforter, a fleece blanket, a 74-degree house thermostat reading... and I was still freezing. This is when Jeff brought out the big guns-- also known as the Braun Thermoscan Ear thermometer-- and confirmed with a reading of 102.9 that this was, in fact, me being sick and not some freak adverse reaction to a medication. Crap. I proceeded to spend the better part of the evening next to a vomit bucket convulsing, shivering, having hot flashes, shivering more, dry-heaving, hallucinating, having every joint in my body ache (do fingernails count? they were aching too...), and--well-- expelling things from my body in gross ways that not only do you have no interest in reading about, but I have no interest in recounting in words. Therefore, Jeff had to take 1/2 the morning off from work today (which is less than ideal considering how much time he's already taken off this year to aid his perma-sick wife...) while I laid in bed unable to move. Fortunately my Mom was able to come for the remainder of the day so hubbster could get into work for a few hours, while I continued to lay in bed completely unable to move. (Until about 2 hours ago when I finally hobbled into the living room to slump in the recliner, now only partially unable to move...hey, progress is progress, right?)



And that, my friends, is all of the excitement ridiculousness that you've missed over the past few days. Riveting, I know. Stay tuned for the remainder of the week as I tackle Chiro appointments # 2 and #3, and please pray that Dr. M and I are both able to escape these visits with zero inappropriate head-to-crotch contact. Oh, and if you could also please pray that this nasty stomach bug magically disappears by tomorrow morning, leaving the rest of my family unscathed, that'd be swell too...Thanks :-)

Dear self: Welcome to the new millennium!

Those of you who know me well, know that the cell phone I have owned and operated for the past, oh, four and a half years or so-is a complete dinosaur, technologically speaking.  It is a (gasp)- FLIP phone. You know, one of those old-school, basic "flip me open, dial the numbers, and press the green phone icon to send the call" thingies. Nothing fancy. No texting. No video. No ring-tones. About 1/4 step up from the one Zack Morris debuted on Saved by the Bell on or around 1992. Basically, a get 'er done and flip 'er shut phone. Period.

Well, over the course of four years, she's definitely seen her day, and then some. She has been:
1). Dropped in a puddle of muddy water in the driveway (on more than one occasion.)
2). Slammed in the trunk of my car, cracking her screen and permanently damaging her leather case. (which has since been rendered useless, although for some odd reason I left it on, clinging for dear life.)
3). Used as a drumstick, drooled on, bitten, chewed on, sucked on, thrown, and lost for several days in the couch cushions, all by my gloriously "spirited" offspring. (also please note that said droolage eventually saturated the earpiece so badly that anyone who calls not only sounds like they are whispering at negative decibels, but doing so from one of Ariel's obscure treasure troves undah- da-sea. Truly, it is quite the fascinating auditory experience.)
4). Running on a 3-minute battery life for the past 2 years. Literally-- even when she charges in my car for hours, I am lucky to have an eight sentence conversation with anyone before she dies, completely unexpectedly. (usually & conveniently mid-juicy story from one of my girlfriends/sisters.)

Having said all of that...it didn't come as a surprise when Jeff recently suggested that we (finally) bite the bullet and embark on the "family plan" mission.  Yes folks, that's right....we've been married 5 years now and have a house a two children together--but separate cell phone accounts. (Although, those of you who know us well are aware of Jeff's sketchy Radio Shack "free phone plan" history which has inhibited any sort of desire to switch providers... but with only like 12 minutes a month on said "plan," and with the amount he now uses his phone for work...it was time to put his big-boy undies on and get a MAN-plan.)

And so, the quest began.

But alas, what were we to do? I had been on Verizon, and Jeff on Sprint, for several years now. Do we draw straws? Pick one? Just go nutty and choose something completely unconventional like AT & T or T-Mobile? Well, leave it to Jeff to do about 17 hours of research on topics such as:  coverage areas, 3G networks, hot spots, cold spots, Luke Wilson commercials, data plans, non-data plans, rollover minutes, unlimited vs. limited text plans, photo texting, 3G coverage maps, and so on. (That is one of the great things about my husband--when he does his homework on something, he does his homework.)

Which is why, a few days and several hours of research later, I didn't even question him for a second when he shut the laptop, stood up in the living room, and proclaimed "AT & T it is!"

Phew.
 
Now, onto phone options. Jeff's decision was relatively simple one, all things considered.  He chose the iPhone for himself, since it had every feature he could possibly need for work and pleasure (insert obligatory "that's what she said" comment here.)  And I was more than content with the slick, black, Samsung something-or-other phone that was the AT & T store's "FREE!" featured phone of the month.

Free? I thought. Sign me up!

And so that's what we did. Except, I turned into "that" massive pain-in-the-a$$ customer who demanded similar (and easy) phone numbers for the both of us... (check!), waived activation fees... (check!), and discounts on chargers & cases (check and check!) Oh, and one more thing? How about a free month of that cute little Navigation package? (check....)

Done.

And so here I sit, shiny new touch screen cell-phone in hand, completely amazed by the prospect of joining this texting revolution! (And yes, I do feel like an 87-year old woman actually admitting to this.)  I even perused ringtones tonight! (Do I go with something ghetto, like Young Money's "Bedrock" for when Jeff calls? Or something a little more adorable & predictable like Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours"??) The possibilities are truly endless...

All I know is that it's so incredibly nice to finally be able to text, and to receive texts....to actually be able to hear people when they call...to have a phone without a crack down the middle of the screen...a phone that is capable of pictures! and videos! and a battery life lasting more than 189 seconds!

2005 Verizon flip-something-or-other, we've had some great times...

But the time has come (and gone...and come and gone again) for me to bid you adieu for a newer, classier, shinier, more feature-full, more dependable, touch-screen, full qwerty keyboard, AT & T upgrade  :-)

Reason # 4,972 that she will hate me in her teenage years:

 

 

It's a good thing that she gets her adorable looks & girlish charm from me...because clearly she has inherited these bizarre sorts of behaviors from her Daddy :-)

Tellin' it like it is....

Aves:  "Momma, can you please shave your legs this morning when you shower?"

Me:  "You know that Mommy's neck and back have been hurting  a lot lately. It is hard to lean over in the shower and shave with a bad back.... And by the way, you're four years old!   Why does my leg hair bother you, ya big goof ball?!"  (*I go to wrap my arms around her to give her a massive bear hug & a tickle....)

Aves:  "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!" She squeals in the most high-pitched scream ever to fall on human ears. "Dadda, come save me, quick!"

Jeff:   (in the kitchen with Gav, unaware of what is going on) "...Save you from what, honey?"


Aves:   "From being attacked by this hairy, hairy beast of a Momma!!!!!!!!!"


And on that note....this hairy beast is off to attempt a shower & a leg shave. Which will be interesting terrifying, considering I still can't bend my neck to look down. Wish me luck folks.

Little Miss Independent...

So we were out to dinner tonight. And per usual, within 10 minutes of being seated and the whole lets-order-our-drinks-and-enjoy some-complimentary-bread part of the evening, Aves looks at me with those big hazel eyes, raised eyebrows and all, and points to her "nether" regions, proclaiming:
"Momma, I gotta go potty. BAD."
And so off we venture like 2 intrepid explorers, hoping to find the 'throom before it is "too late." (Side note, does anyone else with children realize that bathrooms are always located in the darkest, scariest, most non-obvious corners of restaurants when your child is doing the pee-pee dance and you need to find one immediately?)
Anyhoo, we finally stumble upon it, and as we enter, she peruses the aisle-o-stalls and quickly spots the stall which looks the most promising for her bladder-emptying experience.
"This one looks the cleanest, Momma," she states, pointing. (p.s. Looking for the cleanest, non-peed on toilet seat? That's my GIRL!)
As I go to follow into the stall behind her per our usual tradition, I sense a hesitation, and she stops dead in her tracks;
"Ummm, actually Mom?" she says, "I was thinking that since I'm four and a half now I am ready to go potty alone. You can wait out there, okay?"
Here I am, in the bathroom of Not Your Average Joe's, completely floored by the fact that my "little" girl - my baby- is expressing to me that she no longer requires my assistance with the potty.
I am hesitant at first, then sad immediately. As she closes the stall door behind her and locks it, I stammer
"Ok honey, go for it. What a big girl you are!" while choking back tears and trying desperately not to let her hear the quiver in my voice.
(I am brought back exactly 2 years ago, almost to the day. March of 2008. She was two and a half. "No more diapees," she plainly stated to us that morning in her high chair. "Big girl undies now." And that was that. Never an accident, never a wet bed. Instantly, she had made up her mind and just as instantly she was potty-trained.  No bribery, no charts, no stickers-- just a trip to Target and her choice of Dora or Tinkerbell undies in a size 2 Toddler. Seems like yesterday...)


As soon as I hear the click of the stall door lock, my sadness turns to panic-  
But how will she climb onto the potty ALONE? Without me lifting her?! And ewwwww! She's going to have to touch the yucky public POTTY to hold on now! And-- how in God's name will she reach the toilet paper roll from her perch atop the porcelain throne?! SHE'S ONLY FOUR! And...oh my goodness....will she remember to wipe front to back?? I usually wipe her!!! I'm not ready for this.....

But alas, my thoughts are interrupted by the familiar whooooshing sound of the industrial-strength toilet flush, and I peer through the crack in the door to see her working very hard to pull her leggings up from around her feet.


"Want Momma to help you with your pants?" I ask innocently.


She turns to see me peering in the stall door crack.

"Noooooooooo Mom! And stop looking at me in here, I would like privacy please!"

And with that, I wander over to the sink area to wait, almost in disbelief that (we) have both survived her first solo potty experience. Thirty seconds later, she emerges from the stall with her leggings successfully (and crookedly) pulled up, and the most prideful, victorious, beaming smile across her face that I've ever seen.


"See Momma?" she states as she retrieves her own soap to wash her hands, turns on the faucet herself, washes thoroughly, and even waves her hand in front of the automatic paper towel dispenser for a paper towel.  "I'm a big girlie now! I can do everything all by myself!"

I am so proud. So happy. So sad. So incredibly overwhelmed-- so many things all at once. But then again, I suppose these are the moments that I am to remind myself, this is what it's all about.  This is, in essence, is the whole point of parenthood. Preparing our children to survive without us. To wipe a bum alone in a sketchy public restroom unassisted. To pull their own pants up, crooked or not. To order their own "chicken fingers and green beans kids meal with a chocolate milk, please?" without the prompting or assistance of a Mom or Dad.


I guess I should hold on tight to these little moments now.  Because inevitably (and way too quickly for my liking,) she will soon be asking for much bigger scarier things:  A training wheel-less bike. Rollerblades. To sleep over a friend's house. A ride to the school dance. A cell phone. Car keys. And eventually, alone time with a cute 15-year old boy in the family room.

Yikes.

And so in conclusion, I suppose that the wiping of her bum alone, and the flushing of a toilet all by herself in a public restroom stall, are relatively benign milestones in the big scheme of things to come. So as long as she promises me that she'll slow down with the rest of this 'growing up' business...then flush away, Aves.

Flush away.

...And, he's back!

As much as I love & miss him dearly....there are certain things that are nice about the hubby being away on business for a few days. Namely:

1). Being able to sit on the couch (after the kiddos are in bed) performing an upper-lip wax, while simultaneously (and shamelessly, might I add,) polishing off 1/2 a ream of double-stuff Oreo cookies. (this visual is priceless, no?)

2).  Not worrying about the disgruntled, husbandly sighs of "I can't believe I'm missing Chuck for this garbage!"  as I indulge in such riveting shows as "16 & Pregnant" and TLC's "The Little Couple"...(while finishing up the remaining 1/2 ream of aforementioned cookies.)

3). Not having to change the toothbrush head from his to mine on our Sonicare every morning! (it's the little things, folks...)

4). Being able to sprawl out and have the bed (and all of it's 700-thread count sateen sheet goodness) ALL TO MYSELF for three whole nights- Heaven! As a side-note, nights like this truly make me ponder how we ever shared a TWIN sized bed in college...?!  (*Unless you are my Dad reading this, who probably assumed that his very Catholic, very chaste, very pure daughter only ever shared her college bed with her stuffed animals...Keep the dream alive, Dad. Keep it alive.)

However, on this note, I will also add that Murphy's Law of the husband-less household was in full swing this week as well. This was evident by the fact that I threw my back out AGAIN 12 hours after he left....the garbage had to be taken out (AND the barrels & recycling bins brought back in from the street--ewww, the gross jobs)...the toilet clogged twice (I had to PLUNGE my daughter's floating poop!)....the sink had to be Liquid Plumber-ed...and I heard strange noises on our deck every night around midnight that had me convinced that an escaped convict was attempting a B & E. (I slept with the phone clutched tight in my hands every night for this reason!)  I will say, I was very successful at trucking right along through all of this, (mostly with the help of pain meds for the back,) and managed to hold down the fort quite impressively over the past few days solo. Oh and also, I wasn't coup d'état-ed by my children, which was a definite concern slash possibility. (hey, I am outnumbered now, anything's possible!) And speaking of those kiddos? They were remarkably well-behaved and absolutely adorable every single day.  Literally. I might even venture to say that I sort of enjoyed our little time without Daddy...just the three of us  :-)

But alas, hubby has made it home safe & sound tonight, and so it's back to the same old, same old. Back to the routine. Back to the grind... And yes, even back to the covert, Oreo-less, mustache-waxing routine in the confines of el bano.

All worth it though, to have home safe & sound the man whose hugs still make my heart skip a beat-- and who makes 4 days apart feel like 4 years. Welcome home Jeffster!  :-)

Spring has (almost) sprung

...And what better way to commemorate its arrival than our first official trip to the park of 2010!  It was a blast. The weather was perfect (...you know you live in New England when 58 degrees with a brisk breeze constitutes "perfect") Clear blue skies and SUNSHINE! As a Momma, it was so incredibly touching to see, (for the first time ever,) my TWO kiddos happily swinging together, side-by-side. (and, incidentally, this was Gav's first time on the swings. He lah-lah-loved it!)  Just seeing the joy in Ava's face that she "finally has a brother to swing with, Momma!" made my heart overflow with the type of maternal elation that only moments like these can encapsulate. What an amazing feeling it is-- knowing that these two will have each other for the rest of their lives. That no matter where either of them ultimately ends up in this world, they will have an automatic best friend just a drive/plane ride/phone call away.  It's the little moments like this make this crazy, exhausting parenthood journey all worthwhile   :-)

Movin' on up....

Dear Graco infant carseat: It's amazing to look back and see how much we've been through together....and how many months you served us so incredibly well.  From the first hospital ride home, right up through his 8th month, you've provided a safe, secure, comfy home away from home for our little man:

...But when his feet began hanging off the bottom, (see above) just a few short weeks ago, we quickly realized it was time to move on. To something bigger. Something comfier. Something that would make our tiny little baby seem more like a little boy! (*sniff, sniff)
And so, without further ado....may I present to you: Gav's first time in his sweet new ride! (The Evenflo Triumph Deluxe, in case you were wondering.) Does he like it, you ask?
You tell us...