The Queen's Rambles

I have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve posted. New baby + no laptop=very sporadic posting. That’s a compelling first sentence. Not.

Since last you’ve heard from me, I’ve decided I am fat, old and gross. I informed Mike and he told me if I was a car my Car Fax report would be fine.

Nothing says romance like telling your wife her car fax report is fine.

When I was younger I always thought that someday I would magically lose weight and be beautiful. I was just waiting and waiting and praying and waiting and praying and waiting some more.

Now I know better.

I’m past my prime and things are just going down hill from here. I better learn to love myself now because it’s not going to get any prettier. I’m never going to be skinny. My face isn’t wrinkly now, but it eventually will be. I don’t have gray hair yet, but I will some day.

Could this crisis be brought on by my son? Could hearing “You’re going to die someday” every five minutes be making me insane? Possibly.

He does say cute things, too. Like today he wouldn’t get off my lap because he says he loves me so much and he’s always going to love me and when he’s a teenager he’s still going to love me and never go to school or work because he’s going to sit on my lap and love me.

Also, he’s going to play video games instead of going to school, but that’s not as sweet as the loving mommy part.

My mom is going to be here for five weeks in October. I’m excited! I might get some time to do some quilting and she might help me clean my house. My house is an everlasting pit of despair. I can no longer keep up. Elsa is a wonderful, sweet baby but she’s at the point where she needs/wants a lot of attention. Attending to her needs is a lot more fun than mopping the floor.

Except when she pinches my nipple with her little claws.

My back is killing me these days. It’s not like the spasm I had when I was on vacation. Instead, it is shooting pains through my back, especially if I sit in a wooden chair. Having a 20 pound baby really helps with that. Not!

I can’t really do any baby wearing any more because of my back. Oh well. I never did any baby wearing with Erik, but that was because he was a screamer. I subscribed to a babywearing community and got ticked off by their attitude, so it is just as well that I quit. I am not an all or nothing sort of gal when it comes to a lot of parenting things. You are not a bad parent if you use a stroller. You are not a bad parent if you baby wear. You can do both! Imagine! You can use whatever strategy works best for whatever situation you are in! Amazing! Seriously, this “all or nothing” attitude towards a lot of parenting issues wears me out. Just the other day I was reading the blog of a woman I’ve read for years. She has two boys about Erik’s age and made a really rude comment about people who feed their babies purees instead of doing baby led weaning. Apparently if you feed your babies purees you are grabbing their faces and shoving a spoon down their throat and making them gag because you have control issues.

I don’t know about you, but I never grabbed Erik’s face when I was feeding him. I am sure there are good things about baby led weaning, but it is not the end all and be all of baby feeding. Purees are fine. Using a spoon doesn’t mean you are traumatizing your baby.

I did traumatize Elsa the other day, though. I gave her a tiny bit of banana. She was not impressed. Poor baby.

At least she didn’t cry. Not that I would expect her to cry. She is the amazing non-crying baby. When she gets mad she sticks her lower lip out and her eyebrows turn red. If I would have had her before having Erik I wouldn’t have had a clue what to do with the boy. Not that I had a clue anyway, but it would have been an even bigger shock to my system.

So anyone know the Swedish etiquette for giving wedding gifts when you aren’t invited to the wedding? Apparently Mike’s niece got married this weekend, at least that’s what her Facebook status says. She’s his niece so that’s one point for getting her a gift. He found out about it on Facebook so that’s a deduction. I suppose we will be classy and send something.

Guess I better wrap this up. I have a coupon for a free photobook from Shutterfly if I can just get it put together by tomorrow. Not holding out much hope for that.

*I had exactly 25 minutes to post before the pizza was ready (assuming Elsa doesn’t wake up). I was only going to post. Why did I let myself get sucked into FB?

*I bought Erik a weapon. Green light saber. Oh my. I said I would never do that, but when the other kids on the street all have them and tell him he’s not allowed to play with them unless he has a weapon. . . well. . .what’s a mom to do? Be PC or let kids be kids?

*Erik is obsessed with dying. Bedtimes have been horrible lately. He cries and cries, almost working himself into hysterics. “I’m going to miss you so much when you die! Don’t die!” I explain, and explain that I won’t die until he’s a great big man with kids of his own. I even broke down and told him that when I die I’ll go up to the clouds and watch over him (if I can let him believe in Santa, why can’t I let him believe that even if I don’t believe it? Ohhhhhh. Personal moral quandry. Sorry to those who do believe in heaven. I just don’t. Sort of wish I did since it’s a really nice idea.)

*I’ve been going through huge stacks of baby clothes. Some people really need a lesson on doing laundry. I can’t stand dingy looking clothes, but one person who gives me clothes has nothing but dingy stuff. I’d really prefer not to get anything from her, but how do I tell her that? Do I invite myself over to give her a laundry lesson?

*I hate having a period. I hate it even more when I can’t use my Diva Cup. I forgot to order a new size after my last period and now I’m paying the price. I have my new size on order, but that’s not helping me this time. I forgot how messy and gross and just. . . UGH. . .the whole thing is. I almost broke down and went to Whole Foods to buy one, but I called and they were $10 more than one online (including shipping). I don’t think you normally ever have to buy a new size, but months of forced celibacy will do that to a person I guess. When will these kids start sleeping at a decent hour?

*Elsa’s four month check-up was yesterday. She’s up to 19 lb 9 oz and 25.5 inches. So off the charts for weight, 70th percentile for height and 95th for head circumference. Nice, healthy baby. The doctor asked if I had any concerns, then just laughed at me when I said “ummmmm. She’s just so happy. She never cries. Is that ok?” For awhile I was worried she had something mentally wrong with her since she’s always so happy, but she is very curious, alert and engaged. I guess there’s just a such thing as a happy baby. I didn’t know that was a possibility when Erik was a baby. Our parenting philosophy with him was “whatever makes the baby stop screaming” but since this baby doesn’t cry we aren’t constantly trying to figure things out.

*It’s too bad our trip to Oregon was so painful. Otherwise it would have been very pleasant. My family actually behaved themselves pretty well and there wasn’t as much dog hair. My mom had to put down her basset mix and that cut the dog hair down by at least 3/4. Before, you could sweep every hour and get enough hair to knit a plus sized sweater every time. This time you only had to sweep every four or five hours.

*Erik was pretty funny this time. He noticed that the house is a lot dirtier than our house and kept commenting that he didn’t want to walk around barefoot because it was yucky. He really didn’t want to use my dad’s bathroom because it was nasty (I won’t go in there). He also kept asking the cousins why they didn’t wash their faces (not like he looked any better). It will be interesting as he gets older. I wonder how long we will be able to visit and have him enjoy his cousins. They are in a totally different world. I feel really bad for the kids.

*There’s the buzzer. Guess I posted more than I thought, but with a lot less detail.

Will we ever get back on schedule? I guess we were an hour better today so we’ll be back to normal by Thursday. Maybe?

For some reason it always looks overcast and glum here so I think it’s a nice, cool day. I decide to do something, then open the door and the heat and humidity hit me like a ton of bricks.

After spending a good hour getting both kids ready for a walk, the heat just about defeated me. I decided that it would be ok since we were going to walk around a lake and it should be shady, but I hadn’t been around this particular lake since Erik was a baby. There was no shade.

By the time we made it all the way around Erik and I were both lobster red and he was literally drenched. He looked like he’d jumped in the lake.

Perhaps I need to wait on this walking plan a few more weeks, or at least go to the lake that I know is shady.

While in Oregon Erik became very Oregon-ized. My dad. Grrrr. He taught Erik all kinds of wonderful things, the current fave being “Look up, look down, look at my thumb, gee you’re dumb.” So guess what I hear all day? “You’re dumb!”

We’ve had talks. Oh lordy have we had talks. It’s hard for him to understand the problem since he was taught this lovely little saying by an adult.

Did our parents just not care if we used ugly words like dumb, stupid, shut-up, ugly and fat? Are your kids allowed to use those words? Is it part of the culture? I live in a very educated, sort of up-scalish sort of place. I grew up in a poor as rocks sort of place. I don’t know if it is a difference in time or place, but things that were appropriate in my youth are certainly not appropriate today.

I must admit I let Erik go hog wild in Oregon. Everyone there is so rough, my dad and his buddies especially. They tease the kids really hard and my nephews and niece all run away and hide. Erik? Not so much. He gets right in their face and tries to tease back, or he starts hitting. I told him he is never allowed to hit anyone except my dad and his drunk friend. That sounds so awful, doesn’t it? My dad and his friend think it’s hilarious and Erik has a lot of pent up aggressions. My sister thought it was horrible that I let him hit dad, but you know what? If my dad is going to wind him all up and push the limits of acceptable behavior? He can reap the consequences. I don’t want a violent son, but I do want him to be able to stand up for himself. I know what it’s like to grow up in that house with drunks going too far with the teasing. My son is going to know that he has power and he doesn’t have to take that crap.

Raising strong, healthy, happy, aggressive-appropriate boys. It’s a puzzle. I wish I could have a long chat with Mike’s mother about how to raise a wonderful son. He is everything a man should be.

Totally off-topic: have any of you tried thredUP.com or swapmamas.com? They are swap sites for children’s clothing and other things. I’ve signed up for thredUP and think it could be really neat. I wasn’t nearly as impressed with swapmamas. I don’t think the giver should have to pay shipping.

Do you know of any other swap sites? I would like to do a review of them in my upcoming newsletter. Gotta figure out something to write about. Any other writing topics? I should post my list of 31 things to do. Most of them aren’t all that creative, but there were a few gems.

We made it home after a very uneventful flight. Thank goodness! With the luck we’d been having, I paid special attention to the emergency instructions and was prepared to crash land. We arrived in Dulles a full 44 minutes early. How often does that happen? Obviously it’s an extremely long flight if you arrive that early.

I don’t have much time to write tonight. We feel like it is the middle of the afternoon since we all rolled out of bed around noon. I feel bad that Mike has to work tomorrow. The rest of us will have a little time to get acclimated to the time zone before we have to start going places.

I did some research about unsticking photos from glass and my instincts about the water wre correct. I wouldn’t do this with modern photos–I have no idea how they print them. Old photos that are processed chemically can be soaked in water with no harm done. I spent a good long time soaking the pictures and slowly peeling them apart. I am quite pleased with the results! My mom is going to mail them to me when they are dry and I’m going to try to find a photo restoration place if it doesn’t cost too much.

This is me at fifteen months. Elsa looks just like me, only much chubbier. I’d never seen this picture so it was sort of exciting to discover it.

I also found a picture (haven’t scanned it yet) of me after my first post-college summer of living on my own. I was thin (for me!). I about died of shock. My friends and I used to go walking for an hour every evening (like 2 am, we were stupid) and we didn’t have any money for junk food.

My new plan: as soon as the weather cools down a bit, go walking for at least an hour every day. We have a few different little lakes that we can walk around a couple of times. When Erik is in school I’ll drop him off and go walking. I’m not sure if the weather will cool off before school starts or not.

If you want to be disgusted, scroll down.

My poor, poor Mikey. It doesn’t look nearly as bad as I thought it would, but it looks bad enough. He’s bruised up today. He’s not looking forward to showing off the damage at work tomorrow, but he can’t exactly hide at home until it all clears up. It will be awhile, I’m afraid.

Oh my. Look at the time! Ten pm and Erik is still awake. I better go get him and make him soak in the tub for at least 30 minutes to get off all the Oregon grime. He and Mike have both been “Oregon-ized.”

The first day we were there my sister was trying to get Erik to do something and said “I just want to get him organized!” We all looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Organized? Her? What the hell?

Turns out she meant, Oregon-ized. It became a running joke all week long and it surely did occur. Rule number one on the Oregon visits: Never take clothes you love. They WILL have ground in dirt from top to bottom.

PS: Thank you guys for all helping me spell!
PS2: My e-mail inbox reached capacity on 8/10 so if you sent anything to my MM account I didn’t receive it.

I really should proof-read my entries. That last one didn’t make much sense. No sleep and no proof-reading will do that to an entry.

To clarify a few things that are probably confusing:

1) We leave here tomorrow! I’m sad to say good-bye to my mom, but I can’t wait for this so-called vacation to end.
2) This is a really old house so there is no bathroom upstairs. Mike was coming down to use the bathroom.
3) Elsa and I were sleeping in a downstairs bedroom. The downstairs bed was too small for me, Elsa and Mike and I couldn’t climb the stairs up to the bigger bed.
4) Mom almost called 911, but then Mike stood up and started walking around all over the broken glass. She was trying to clean it up so he and my niece wouldn’t slice their feet open. It was a huge amount of glass.

My mom and I did manage to have a little fun today–we went and got pedicures. It was only the second one I’ve ever had, but certainly won’t be the last. I don’t know why I don’t do it more often. Probably because I feel like it is something “ladies” do and I never feel like a lady.

I splurged for a sea-salt rub and my lower legs feel amazing. I want to go to a full spa and have an all over body scrub. Can I do that? I know people do. I guess I just have to call and give money and I, too, can be a lady.

My mom has a picture of me and my sister when she was a baby and I was three or four. It was in a broken frame so I went out and bought a new one. Problem? The bottom half of the picture is stuck to the broken glass. Grrrrr! I wonder how much photo restoration costs.

I am considering running it under water and seeing if that will loosen it. I know that sounds like a terrible idea, but I know photos are put under water to wash off the chemicals. I need to do some research and see if that would work or just ruin it. There is also a picture of me at 19 months under the picture and totally stuck. I can sort of see my face and I look just like Elsa. I really want to get that picture. Danged house of doom and their doomed pictures.

Mike hates coming to Oregon.

It’s not that he hates my family. The amuse him.

It’s not that he hates Oregon. Oregon is beautiful.

It’s that something always delays our trip home, either weather, malfunctioning airplanes, or whatever.

This time our trip isn’t delayed *knock on wood* but it has truly been the vacation of doom.

Before I go any further I just want to spoil the end of the story by saying we are all going to live and Mike claims he is not in pain. Remember this as the story goes, ok (Julie, I’m looking at you!).

This house is ancient and you can hear every noise any one makes from anywhere in the house. No one ever shuts the doors at night, much less shuts them. They rely on the dogs to wake them up in case of emergency. They don’t have any smoke detectors, which also freaks me out. I kept smelling smoke all last night, but I’m pretty sure it’s just from the wildfires all around here.

I heard someone run down the stairs around 2 am and convinced myself it was a burglar. I think strange things at 2 am.

I wanted to go put my wallet away, but I didn’t want to be shot by the burglars. Also, I was nursing Elsa so I was sort of stuck in bed. I knew I was being silly, but I’m reading a crime novel right now. They always make me silly.

I finally figured out it was probably my mom, so I was just started to relax when there was a humungous crash and sound of breaking glas. I heard my mom yell “What the hell was that?” but then I didn’t hear anything else except her cleaning up glass. I thought my dad fell, but I knew he was in bed. The more glass she swept up, the more convinced I became that the dog had somehow knocked over the hutch of dishes.

When Elsa was finally done nursing I got up and walked out into the hall. There was blood everywhere. I’ve never seen so much blood in my life.

My mom was in the kitchen sweeping and yelled at me to go take care of Mike, that he was hurt really badly. I started racing around trying to find him but couldn’t see him anywhere. She kept saying he was on the couch, but he wasn’t on the couch.

Finally he staggered out ofthe bathroom, covered in blood. He had rags pressed to his face and was gushing blood everywhere.

He had somehow fallen all the way down the stairs (he thinks) and broke the fall with his face and a window. It was terrible. I just started flapping my arms and trying not to scream. Thank goodness my mom was more level headed.

While she was cleaning up, I got him dressed. Elsa and my niece woke up during this, both crying. My dad got up and thank goodness he wasn’t drunk off his ass like he usually is.

I wanted to take Mike to the ER but I didn’t want to take Elsa there and get her a nice little MRSA infection so my mom took him.

I got the kitchen and hall cleaned up while my dad entertained Elsa and tried to comfort my niece. We couldn’t get ahold of my sister to come get my niece and she wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. She was totally freaked out, rightly so. Eventually she let my dad turn on cartoons and I was able to get her to lay down with a pillow and blanky and she went to sleep while my dad stayed with her.

I laid in bed for three hours thinking and thinking and thinking. I was so grateful he was alive and moving of his own volition, but I kept thinking about the “what ifs” and “might have beens.” We are so very lucky he didn’t break his neck or slice open something vital.

Mike ended up with 25 stitches in four (I think) different cuts, plus he has all kinds of other shallow cuts on his face. He has goose eggs and a swollen face. Things are starting to turn yellow. He claims he is not in pain, but I don’t see how that is possible.

In other great vacation news, I went to a funereal today. I shouldn’t have been worried about finding something black to wear. We were just about the only ones wearing black. I have only been to a couple of funereals in my life so don’t have any experience, but aren’t you supposed to wear black to a funereal? And I know I must be spelling that word wrong. It’s really bugging me.

And now, to continue the doomish theme, my aunt and cousin that have never expressed any interest in us at all want to come over this afternoon to see the baby. I hope my sister doesn’t show up while they are here. No telling what she’ll do. We don’t need to see world war three.

I hope we are able to make it back to Maryland without any more incidents.

I know you never thought you’d hear (see?) me say this, but I almost feel sorry for my sister. My mom is on an anti-L rampage and there is nothing the girl can do to make it better. Other than grow up and be a responsible human being, I suppose.

Today my mom was asking her if she was going to her class tomorrow before the funereal, so L started explaining why it wouldn’t be worth her time to go (she’d only be there a half hour before she’d have to leave) and my mom started screaming at her that she didn’t want excuses, she just wanted a yes or no answer. When Mike pointed out that she was the one who asked dear sister about her plans, she didn’t know what to say.

Then someone was over here and made a comment about all the candy everywhere and my mom started bitching about my sister getting all the candy.

Ummmmm.

She got all the candy because my mom specifically TOLD her to get a shit load of candy for the pinanta for this fake birthday party she was throwing for Erik.

Have I ever mentioned how happy I am that I don’t live here? Mike has only heard it a million times this week. Not only is my family insane, this town is so economically depressed that there are condemned buildings lining some of the main streets. I can’t stand it here.

My mom wanted me to get Erik a birthday card so she could give him birthday money, but Mike and I put our foot down at that. I suppose a party can be fun, even though it sets a bad precedence, but a birthday present when it’s not the child’s birthday? No. Just. . . . no. Do I even have to explain it?

Later, a family friend came over and started going off about illegal immigration and asking how many illegal immigrants live in our neighborhood. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never asked to check the papers on all my neighbors. My mom and the guy started talking about how smart Arizona was to start checking all the paperwork and didn’t understand why Mike and I weren’t impressed with racial profiling. Our discussion got so heated it woke the unwakeable baby. Whoops! Normally I won’t talk politics with my mom since it is just easier to agree to disagree. Neither one of us are going to give. Interestingly enough, my dad is pretty much a total liberal even though he would never express it in those words and he certainly doesn’t vote.

At least my back is feeling quite a bit better. I may even be able to walk upright for the funereal tomorrow. I was *thisclose* to being upright today. I even managed to get my haircut, my brows waxed and a black cami for my outfit before totally collapsing.

My mom went out and bought a new keyboard today so I’m very happy. My finger didn’t fit in the N hole very well. I know that sounds wrong.

My back is still out, but doing slightly better. The neighbor had muscle relaxers, so I took half of one. I was worried about it with breastfeeding, but just waited until she was down for the night and I wouldn’t be feeding her for several hours. A full dose is two pills, but meds always knock me for a loop. I felt like my body was just a big bag of jelly, but at least it was major relief from the pain.

I seriously hope this bad back is better by Thursday (or sooner). I went shopping for a funereal outfit* and it just about killed me. This is a small, economically depressed town. There are literally three stores that carry plus-sized clothing: Wal-Mart, Fred Meyer and Ross Dress for Less. Fred Meyer used to have a decent selection, but it was really pathetic today. I finally found a black top and a pair of black dockers that will be ok. I wanted a skirt, but there was not a single black skirt or black dress in the women’s section.

The nearest “big town” is over an hour away. My life on the east coast has left me complacent. I can get just about anything I want via the internet or with a little bit of travel. I’ve forgotten just how frustrating it is to need something and have no way of getting it.

My mom is throwing Erik a birthday party.

Go ahead and ponder that for a few minutes. I’m still pondering it. His birthday is October 13.

She’s got the cake ordered, party favors purchased, pinata stuffed, and all that jazz. The cousins are the only invitees, so at least it is going to be a small affair. I don’t really understand but oh well. Grandma’s priviledge I guess. I don’t know if Erik is going to be excited or confused. Probably both.

Other than the bad back and funereal we’re having a really relaxing vacation. Erik and the cousins are all getting along great. Mike is enjoying not thinking about work. I’m enjoying watching the kids play outside in the much cooler weather. Good stuff. Nothing much to write about since it is all going so well. My mom had a big talk with my sister about bringing ten million kids over here, so it is much more relaxing than last time I was here.

*The funereal is for an old family friend. Not someone I actually know that well, but I do need to go since I’m in town.

After a very long day, we made it to Oregon a few minutes early. My mom has internet, but no N key which is making typing super fun. This will be short.

Erik was such a screamy baby in general, but an excellent sleeper on the plane that it never occurred to me I might be saddled with a screamy plane baby. Elsa is not generally a screamer, but I don’t think the people seated around us will ever believe that. It was quite miserable until she fell asleep.

She slept on my lap for four hours and now my back is paying the price. It was hurting this morning, but then I went and twisted it wrong and now I can’t stand up straight. Mike likes having my eyes level with is nipples, I think.

I hope it heals quickly because carrying around a 22 pound baby with a bad back is impossible.

I was going to take Erik to the fair today but there’s no way I could do it. He ended up going with my mom, sister and the three cousins. I hope he has fun and they take lots of pictures.

Speaking of the boy, I was so impressed with him on the plane. He was pretty bored b/c his game ran out of juice, but he didn’t whine or cause a fuss at all. He watched the movie (Diary of a Wimpy Kid), stared into space and did math problems with Mike.

Can I just say I find it beyond bizarre that his idea of fun is math problems? I don’t get it. I brought him magazines, maze books, play-doh and matchbox cars, but he just wanted to work on simple adding problems with Mike. I guess he takes after his father in more than just looks. I wouldn’t say I’m bad at math, but I certainly don’t enjoy it.

Mike is out with my brother-in-law levelling the sand for the pool. Who on earth is going to go swimming? It’s freezing here! My mom picked us up last night and had her van A/C blasting. It was only 66 degrees. When you’re used to temps up to 100, 66 is pretty dang cold. It’s not supposed to get above 82 the whole time we are here. My parents don’t have A/C (most people around here don’t), but that doesn’t matter. It is still cooler here than it is in our upstairs bedrooms with our A/C running.

I’m tired of sticking my finger down the N hole so better wrap this up. Hope you guys are having a good weekend!

We leave tomorrow! I can’t believe we are doing a red eye, but that seemed the best option at the time. We’ll just feel like shit for a few days, then turn around and come home and feel like shit for a few more days. Isn’t travel fun?

My goal is to just take two bags for the four of us. You may start laughing now.

My mom’s washer is always going since my sister uses her as a laundry service so I think we can make do with very few clothes. We won’t need any long pants or bulky sweaters, so that cuts down on a lot of room right there. I am going to take a supply of cloth diapers and detergent, but that shouldn’t be too bad.

I never thought I’d be schlepping cloth diapers across the country, but I can’t stand to use disposables when I could be using cloth. I have always hated disposable pads with intense hatred so I can’t stand the thought of sticking my baby in disposable diapers for the first several years of her life. Didn’t seem to bother me with Erik, but now that I have the diapers and know how to use them it just makes sense that we would take them with us.

Our weekly library trip was a total bust this week. I don’t think we ended up with a single good kid’s book and the two grown-up books are also total crap. Have I ever told you I love calla lilies? I picked out a book about a girl named Calla Lilly by Rebbecca Wells (Ya-Ya Sisterhood fame).

Someone needs to hire that woman an editor, stat! I think the Society for the Integration of Exclamation Points was paying top dollar to ensure an exclamation point in every single paragraph. I am only about 100 pages in and am going to turn it in tomorrow. I wouldn’t have read that much but it was the only unread hard back I had available to take to the gym. It reads like a very poorly written blog. I’m 1/3 of the way through and I have no idea what the central plot or conflict is supposed to be.

The other book is a parenting book that is totally outdated–Raising Your Spirited Child. Someone told me I should get it b/c it might have some good ideas for Erik. Thus far I’ve only read the description of the “spirited child” and have no clue why someone thought I needed it. Erik does not fit the description at all. If he did I’d have him at the doctor’s office asking for a referral for county services. The book was written in 1991 so maybe sensory issues were not treated at that time? Basically the spirited child as described in this book is probably either on the autism spectrum or has major sensory issues (the whole day can be ruined by a sock rubbing the wrong way, the child has a two hour tantrum if things don’t go exactly the way s/he wants/expects). Things have really changed in the past 20 years in regards to childhood therapies. I’d say Erik is probably one of the few kids I know who doesn’t have some sort of therapy, from speech to occupational to sensory.

Sure, Erik can be stubborn at times, but I usually am pretty good at distracting or manipulating him. He hasn’t had a major tantrum in a long, long time. Certainly not one that lasts for more than five minutes.

Did I tell you about the kid in his camp who was having a full blown tantrum? Full body on the floor, kicking, screaming, punching, the whole nine yards? It was shocking to see a big kid having a tantrum like that, but I just assumed the child had some sort of issue. I did my own little prayer of thankfulness that Erik is a good boy and getting to be very mature.

In fact, today the boy decided our house was dirty and he needed to clean it. I was quite impressed with the way he cleared the floors and put his toys away. He was not impressed with my attempts at cleaning. It’s hard to clean when you have a 20 pound weight attached to your chest.

Mike got home super late because he was picking our friends up from the airport. He had the van all day so he could fit them all in, which meant I had his little Mazda.

I swear I was driving a clown car. I was really dumb and put the baby seat behind me, not thinking about how much room it takes up. I had to have my seat pulled all the way forward , so my legs were squished against the dash. The dash was about 100 degrees, which meant my leg was burning and sweaty. I could barely drive. It was not a safe situation, which is how I came to be in the parking lot at the pool switching out the car seats.

Have I mentioned that I love my van? The car was hot and cramped. After sitting up high in the van it felt like I was sitting in a hole. I could barely shove the baby seat in, even after I moved it over to the other side. It was just a mess. Am I spoiled? Yes indeed.

No idea when I will be able to post next. My mom says her computer is full of viruses since my sister and her husband use the computer and download stupid things. They always fall for the “You’ve won the lottery! Click here to claim your prize! Forty gold nuggets will be yours! I’m a Nigerian princess!” scams. You’d think it’d be harder to scam a scammer, but they both believe they are special and deserve random money to fall in their laps.