Allons-y!

I received an email the other day from one of my friends in France. I hadn't heard from her for about 3 years or so, so it was pretty cool to catch up with her and hear all about what she's been doing and such. Since then I've had lots of little vignettes from my year in France pop into my mind and I've been feeling the itch of that travel bug. I keep thinking about those delicious pastries and open air markets and the sights and sounds and smells of European cities.

But of course traveling these days is a completely different story. Gone are the days of throwing my things into a backpack and heading out the door. Now we have pack and plays and portable high chairs and diaper supplies to worry about. Oh, and then there's that whole traveling with a baby thing. No thanks. So it's kind of hard not to miss those carefree days since now I'm in charge of another person's life (!!) and all.

But we are traveling a bit this weekend. Jack and I are headed up to Oregon City to see my aunt and then visit my grandma in Portland. It should be fun times, provided that Jack cooperates and does not destroy my grandma's delicate household balance of low lying vases and antique figurines. Ugh.

So I'm running all around and trying to get all our gear together, 'cause we sure need a lot of stuff for two whole nights away from home. I realized last night that I really needed to wash a load of diapers. We keep our diapers in the garage and so when the temperature climbs, the odor becomes more and more, shall we say, pungent.

You know how smells can instantly bring you back to an earlier time in your life? I remember one time a few years ago when I was shopping with an old friend and she handed my this candle saying, "Smell this. It smells exactly like your old house." And it did smell just like the house I grew up in, which was weird because it was labeled "cucumber" and I don't recall us keeping an abundance of cucumbers lying around. Anyway. It's crazy how smells trigger memories like that.

So I'm standing in the garage trying to decide my plan of attack on these smelly diapers, when suddenly I get this strong whiff and my mind starts reeling back to an earlier time. And I just can't quite put my finger on this memory, except that I know it's a positive one. So I sniff and sniff and sniff those stinky diapers wondering what the hell happy memories involve the scent of pee. And for a second I start to go all Freudian and think that maybe I'm reliving a moment from my infancy and blah blah blah.

But then it hits me. Those stinky pee diapers remind me of France. Specifically, the public transportation in France, like the metro station or the train with it's nasty little bathrooms where the toilets open directly onto the train tracks. Ah, memories. Vive la France.

Sleeping on the Job

So this scenario has happened to us twice in the past week: I get into the car, well before naptime, and Jack conks completely out within about five minutes of driving. And my gosh is he ever cute when he falls asleep in the carseat. He gets this funny little pouty look on his face and his head turns to a mop of damp blond curls. Oh, and he snores.

When we reached our destination I pulled out the old handy stroller, only to realize that Jack is way too big to sleep in it anymore. Oh well, so I improvised with the legs hanging over the snack tray. I'm sure it's not the safest route, but it worked.

The only problem is that you cannot, I repeat cannot push this stroller around any public area without every single person stopping to make a comment about how adorable he is, or how he must have already had a long day, or how their neighbor's grandson's cousin is about that age, or how all their kids are grown up and have sold their souls to the devil, but used to be sweet like that, etc.

(You think I am making that last part up. I am not.)

But the best part is when Jack wakes up and he's in the stroller and we're somewhere random and you can read all of his thoughts on his little face. He's like, "Where are we? How did we get here? Who is this lady yapping on and on about her kid's eternal salvation?".

So, yeah. I'm thinking we might just stay home today.

Jack, Uncensored

Warning- nekkid baby pictures ahead!

Guess who peed in the potty? He's 16 months old, so I know it was a total fluke and I should probably just give up an potty related activities, given our track record here. We're trying not to get excited about this new turn of events since it probably means nothing in the great scheme of potty training. But, in the wise words of my brother Nick, "Pee in the potty is still pee in the potty". Yep.

Caught Red-Handed (har har)

Here's Jack making his daily raid on the strawberry patch. He eats the ripe ones, the green ones, the stems, the ant eaten ones- clearly his tastes are not discriminating. I just wish he wouldn't step on them and track strawberries into the house.

When I finally cut him off (after about ten strawberries) he tried to escape with one more. This got me to thinking about how babies come into our houses and truly take everything over. I remember being pregnant and watching our house start to fill up with toys and pastels and tiny socks. When I look back at pre-kid pictures, our house looks so empty and clean and almost not lived in. But these days the house and the strawberry patch are Jack's domain and he gleefully leaves his trail of destruction throughout both. Everything has that "lived in" look. And that's just fine with me.

Why I am Drinking a Beer Right Now

Because of Jack's nasty habit of pooping in the bathtub, I have taken the advice of my dear friend Sally and purchased a small potty to keep near the tub for the moment when he makes The Face so that I can snatch him up and place him on the potty just in time for the poop. It sounds like a great plan, right?

So I get the potty home and Jack has a great time putting the bowl on his head (thanks Uncle Nick!) and saying peepee about fifty million times. He even sat on it a few times. Fine. I put it in the bathroom and we go about our daily routine of eating strawberries and playing with rocks. After awhile, Jack says peepee and heads toward the bathroom. Intrigued, I follow and I even go so far as to remove his diaper and place him on the pot. We enjoy a nice story (Go Dog Go) and he is all smiles, but I don't hear any peepee happening so I pick him back up. Then I notice a small poo, right there in the potty where it belongs! I start freaking out and clapping and carrying on like I've won the lottery until I look down and notice that the diaper I pulled off contains a slight trace of poo and it occurs to me that the pooing happened before I put him on the pot and simply fell off when he sat down. Sorry, I know this is gross. Bear with me. Crestfallen, I flush the poo down the real potty and look over just in time to see Jack squatting and pooing a giant poo right there on the bathroom floor.

This kid is going to drive me to drinking.

Holy Mother of Heck!

Brent killed a black widow spider in our garage last night!!! This is wrong on so many levels. Not the killing it, of course, I'm all for death to spiders. But a black widow, in our garage? Where we keep our camping gear, laundry, and extra car seat? We might have to move.

On the plus side, who doesn't want to see their husband single-handedly save the entire family with one well-aimed swoop of a tennis shoe? Pretty sexy.

Just Doing My Part

... to save the earth by letting Jack run around naked outside for the better half of the day and thus saving several diapers. Also, our lawn was fertilized for free in the process. Yeah, I know, gross. But better in the lawn than the bathtub.

I think the neighbors might hate us.

Summer's Here!

Well, it's here at last. Summer vacation- woohoo! Most of my students were done on Tuesday and we had their promotion ceremony that night. The ceremony is always a big source of stress for me because I have to present the language arts award. Believe it or not, I have a total phobia about public speaking. When I'm in my classroom with my students I am completely comfortable, but put me in front of a crowd of adults and I fall apart. I especially hate anything that involves a microphone. But I was pleasantly surprised this year that I did not turn into a blubbering fool once I hit the stage and I think I may have actually passed myself off as a reasonably intelligent human being.

We took the 7th graders on a field trip on Wednesday and Thursday was their last day. Today was a teacher workday and I had two students who volunteered to come in and help me wrap everything up. I'm exhausted, but really happy to be done and excited for the sunshine (finally!).

Brent is fishing with his dad this weekend and so I've got the house, Jack, and a plate of chocolate cupcakes all to myself. Wish me luck.

Baa Baa?

Jack's new favorite word is "baa baa" which is really the "smurf" of his vocabulary. He uses it for just about everything, from brooms to garbage cans to bunnies to bubbles. It's pretty inconvenient, actually. He starts in with the baa baas and you have no idea which baa baa he's talking about. Also, everything is a question right now, complete with the I-don't-know hand gestures.

So our conversations goes something like this:

Jack: Baa baa?
Me: Yes, it's the garbage can.
Jack: Baa baa?
Me: Oh, you mean the bunny?
Jack: Baa baa?!
Me: Bubbles? You want to see your bubbles?
Jack: BAA BAA?!
Me: Broom? Is it the broom you want?
Jack: Baa baa?
Me: Baa baa.

Jack with the baa baa.

Grrrr

That score? It's now 5 to 1. Jack has made it perfectly clear whose side he is on. Grrr.

Settle the Score

Well, the score is now 4 to 1. The other night I was in the kitchen listening to the normal splashing and screeching that is bath time in our household. Suddenly I heard Brent utter a cry of both shock and disbelief and I knew it could only mean one thing: Yep, that's right- Brent got to experience poop in the bathtub all for himself.

Brent is an intelligent guy. He knows how to solve problems and think critically. He is calm and collected during times of stress. But this guy could not figure out how he was going to deal with poop in the bathtub.

Lucky for him, I have plenty of experience with this particular issue so I was happy to call out some instructions from a safe distance. A very safe distance: the other room. So we're just a few poops short of an even score here. Who are you rooting for?

Rock On, Jack

Remember what I said about baby toys? Who needs 'em! Especially when there are rocks to count. When Brent was little, so the story goes, he used to line up all of his little cars in perfect rows and he also used to get really mad if any of his cousins messed up his room. I think Jack may have inherited some of Brent's tendencies as he is obsessed lately with lining up rocks from below our deck. He really does NOT like it if you move the rocks. Trust me. I'm just glad he finally stopped putting them into his mouth...

I came home on Monday to a sick baby so I decided to take Tuesday off. Turns out Jack was fine, but Brent and I both woke up to some weird stomach flu. Jack was running all around all chipper and excited that we were both home while Brent and I were taking turns collapsing into bed. It was a looooong day. Several house rules were broken during this period of desperation: Jack ate graham crackers in the living room and he watched TV- gasp! He thought it was all a big party and was loving every minute of it. He was clapping along with "The View" and feeding his crackers to the couch cushions. It was all I could do to muster the strength to fill his sippy cup and toss some more crackers to him every once in awhile. I started to feel bad about my lapse in good parenting and then it occurred to me that this is what it's like for babies who have drug addicts as parents- TV as a babysitter, food in the living room, mom passed out on the couch. And then I reminded myself that we aren't drug addicts, we are pretty good parents who happen to have the stomach flu, so then I felt better.

We are both feeling much better now. And good thing, too, since we are out of graham crackers.