How To Pack A Car (Alone) With 2 Children In 27 Easy Steps

1- A week before your trip, make multiple lists for every possible item you may need. 

2- Spend every spare moment you have in that preceding week packing the bags and making new lists.

3- The night before you leave, collect your bags by the door and double check your packing skills.  Make a new list of last minute items to be packed in the morning and have yet another bag ready for those things.

4- The morning of your trip, wake up, get the children up and (referring to your final list) pack your last bag.  Go ahead and feel really good about yourself right now and take a moment to let that feeling sink in because this will be your best parenting moment of the day.  Please notice that your best parenting moment did not include children. 

5- Try to take the dog out and realize that it's starting to rain.  Well crap.  You will then have to pick the dog up and put her in the grass because she has developed a sudden, irrational fear of water (especially the kind that falls from the sky).  Tell her that she's being ridiculous, that it's only sprinkling and that she needs to pee now.  She does not pee, but turns around the second you put her on the grass and runs back inside. 

6- Go put a pee pee pad down on the floor in your bathroom for the dog to pee on. 

7- Attempt to stop the 1 year old from unpacking all of your beautifully packed bags that are still sitting by the door.

8- When the 3 year old asks to help, tell her that she can help by watching the 1 year old.  (She will then say "OK!" and sit on the floor in your room with the 1 year old to play with her.  Appreciate this moment.)

9- Begin carrying the bags out to your car.  You will need to take the double stroller, so there will be some strategy in packing the trunk of your little Ford Focus. 

10- After you have the stroller and larger bags by the trunk of the car, take a moment to assess the situation and visualize how everything will fit best.  About half way through packing the bags into the trunk you will notice a small, chunky baby running out of the garage into the rain...barefoot.  And guess who's running out right behind her?  The (apparently miraculously healed of her water phobia) dog.  The same dog who was acting as if we had acid rain in North Florida is now chasing after the 1 year old and jumping in puddles like she's a puppy.  Meanwhile, of course the rain starts coming down harder and the bags are getting wet. 

11- Screw the systematic approach and throw the rest of the bags into the trunk.

12- Run after the barefoot 1 year old who is now soaked and filthy and is also now running away from you while shrieking with laughter.

13- After you get the 1 year old back into the garage, go back out for the dog who has now apparently gone deaf because she suddenly has no idea what the phrase "Minnie! Get back in the house!!!" means.  As you get the dog, be prepared for the 1 year old to try to escape back out into the rain...it will happen.

14- With the dog under one arm and the 1 year old under the other arm, get back into the house where you will find the 3 year old standing in your room.  Now here's where I'm going to save you the trouble because if you ask her: "Alexa, I thought you were going to help Mommy by watching Kate and Minnie"  she will answer: "I was watching them and then they walked away from me and I couldn't see them anymore."  I have no words.

15- Get the baby cleaned up and put shoes on everyone.

16- Pack up some snacks for the car .  Look up and realize that it stopped raining (probably as soon as you came inside).

17- Tell everyone that it's time to get in the car and, with the bags that contain the car toys on your shoulder, try to herd the children through the garage and out to the car.

18- Spend about 5 minutes getting them into their seats and buckled in.

19- Bring the dog back inside.  Again.  Tell her that she's not coming this time.

20- Grab your purse and keys, lock the door and get into the car.  This is when the 3 year old will ask for a drink...and you realize that her sippy cup is not in the diaper bag.

21- Go back into the house to get the missing sippy cup (which the 1 year old had pulled out of the bag in her attempt to unpack everything).

22- Get back into the car and realize that your phone isn't plugged into the charger and in the cup holder where you keep it.

23- Search frantically for the phone.  Dump out your purse and diaper bag onto the front seat.

24- Go back inside to look for your phone.  (you left it on the kitchen counter)   On your way out, grab some more snacks.

25- Dump your phone and the snacks onto the front seat in the car and go back into the garage to get a Pepsi out of the fridge (because who the hell thought it was a good idea to wake up at 6:45 so that we could leave as soon as the girls got up?!).

26- Go back into the house at least 3 more times for random items that you either forgot or one of the girls said that they need.

26- Drive to the stop sign at the end of your street where you will suddenly remember 2 more things that you forgot.

27- Keep driving.  It's not worth it.

Skinny Jeans

I had a very strange experience while shopping for jeans the other day.  First of all, let me say that the last time I went shopping for...well, any kind of clothing for myself...was right after Alexa was born.  And I'm pretty sure my mom bought me the jeans I got then.  Anyway, fast forward three years.  Those post-Alexa jeans are too short (who would have thought, right?), so now it's cold out and I don't have any jeans that fit.  My first disappointment was walking into the store and realizing that they don't have a section for 'I just stopped breastfeeding and immediately gained 5-10 pounds'.  What the hell.  OK, so obviously I need to change my approach.  That's OK, I can adapt...or so I thought.  It took me about 10 minutes to find a pair of jeans that were not labeled "skinny".  I'm sorry, what?  I mean, I'm not completely out of it, I knew about skinny jeans. I was just unaware of the sheer quantity of them and the complete lack of anything else!  In one store I was in, they not only had skinny jeans, they had "super skinny" jeans.  Who wears those?  I'm serious.  Who is their target marketing group?  Because I'm just gonna go out on a limb and say that 98% of women are not shaped like 9 year old boys, and therefore, would look horrible in skinny (and especially super skinny) jeans.  I know, there is always that group of outliers.  That strange group of women who's thighs don't rub together.  And trust me, I'm kind of jealous of the lack of chaffing that you experience.  But for the large majority of us, we need real jeans that fit real women.  And I don't mean skinny jeans that are labeled "curvy" with a "mid rise waist and roomy through the hip and thigh".  Skinny jeans with a curvy fit is an oxymoron.  Speaking of oxymorons... skinny jeans in any size above a 4 is an oxymoron also.  I know, I know.  There are some super tall girls who wear larger sizes and yet are proportioned so that skinny jeans actually look really good on them.  Now before you start thinking 'Oh yeah, that is totally me.  I look fantastic in my skinny jeans!', if you are shorter than 5'9'', it's not you.  Go ahead and absorb that fact and then go buy yourself some new pants.  This is tough love, people, tough love.  I am here for all of my fellow big-butted women, trying to save you from looking nasty.  And please don't think that I'm calling anybody fat or saying for anyone to loose weight in order to be able to fit into those jeans.  I have a butt and I always will.  I like my ass.  It looks good.  I mean, the flab to muscle ratio is a little bit skewed in the wrong direction after having two kids, but I'm working on that.  And just because I like the butt I have, doesn't mean that I need to be squeezing it into a pair of jeans that makes me look like _____ (I was going to write here a description of what the jeans look like on me but it's indescribable.  There are no words).

Do you know who the real genius in all this is?  The guy (or girl) who first saw skinny jeans on a runway somewhere and decided "Yes! We can sell these to everyday women".  I feel like there was probably a down-to-earth assistant (probably with mildly wavy brown hair and glasses) who was like "Sir, everyday women won't look good in those jeans.  They were made for the super skinny models to wear."  And then the guy was like "I know!  That's what makes it so perfect!  We call them 'skinny jeans' and everyone will think that they make them look skinny! They will sell like crazy!  Then we can sit back and watch all the young women and teenage girls in America prance around with these horrible jeans on!  It will be hilarious!!!  Muahhhahahahaha!"  (That last part was his evil laugh...I didn't say that he was nice, just that he was a genius.)  The genius part about of this is that it actually worked!  And it obviously made this guy super rich. So, to the random rich skinny jean selling guy out there somewhere: good job.  To his assistant:  You are a failure.  Maybe you need to make a different career choice.  Perhaps something behind a desk.  In a cubicle.  To all of you ladies who need to now buy some new pants: good luck and don't give in to the 'skinny' label.  And finally, to Alexa and Kate:  with the families that you come from, there is no hope of tiny butts or thighs in your future.  But that's OK!!!  You have two of the cutest butts I have ever seen in my life!!!!  But we have to keep it classy so don't ever expect to see any kind of skinny jeans in our house.  Ever.

What's For Dinner?

Disclaimer: Nick is a really good husband and father. Seriously. He feeds, bathes and puts Alexa to bed at least three times a week because I am at work or teaching and he's done a fantastic job so far when he's been at home by himself with both girls when I'm working on a weekend. He even vacuumed the house last night as I was bathing Lexi. OK, I had to put that out there first. On to my story.

I'm not a good cook. I can follow a recipe just fine but I'm definitely not one of those people who just throws stuff together to form culinary awesomeness. It's just not something that I enjoy. Dinner never falls very high on my list of priorities and, if it were just me and Alexa eating, she'd have a peanut butter sandwich, I'd have a bowl of dry cereal and everyone would be happy. Now, Nick is different when it comes to dinner. He would love to have a four course meal every night, which obviously doesn't happen in our house...ever. So, when I was pregnant with Katelyn, one of the things that just irked me to no end was Nick coming home from work (at 4:00...plenty of time left for group decision about what to eat) and asking what was for dinner. At that point, having spent my day entertaining Alexa, cleaning, getting ready for the baby (and usually sleeping), the 'what's for dinner' question just really made me want to inflict some major pain. Or hide in a closet. (Or the more likely scenario: hiding in a closet while dreaming about inflicting pain) I imagined that Nick wanted to come home to me wearing a dress, heels and an apron, preparing this fantastic meal while Alexa was quietly sitting at the table teaching herself calculus. Reality was, obviously, just about the opposite. It was a good day when I was able to even take a shower and Alexa was usually running around like a little crazy girl, and occasionally naked (Alexa, not me. It's really hard to keep clothes on that kid!).

Shortly before having the baby, I decided that I had had enough. I realized that he was just asking an innocent question, so I had to come up with a way to answer that question without getting anxious, frazzled and mad. My solution: monthly meal plans. For the past three months, I have made a calendar with dinner planned out for each day. At the beginning of the month, we have one big Publix shopping trip and we only go back to the store half way through the month to get milk and fruit. Not only do we always know what's for dinner, we have saved a lot of money by staying away from the stores. Our meal calendars are posted in the laundry room and on the inside of a kitchen cabinet so everyone knows what's for dinner all the time.
So, Nick calls me at work the other day, from home, as he is standing in front of the refrigerator and as soon as I answer the phone he says "Hey, what's for dinner tonight?". Are you serious? I can't win.

A Whole Lot of Crazy - part 2

Since Alexa has had the bumpers off of her crib, she has been having a little problem at night keeping her pacis.  She doesn't realize it, but when she's sleeping she throws them on the floor.  The phrase 'active sleeper' just doesn't even begin to describe her.  You have to see it to believe it.  So, on to my story:

I got up for work one morning and everything seemed to be how it should be.  After showering and getting dressed, I was in the kitchen making my oatmeal when I heard a whimpering noise.  It sounded just like Wolfie.  Wait.  I think I should first tell you that about two days before this happened I swear I saw Wolfie in my family room.  Alexa and I were playing in her room and when I looked out her door I know I saw him walk by the couches.  At first I assumed I was crazy, that it must have been one of the girls but then I realized that both girls were sitting right next to me.  This is not even the crazy that I'm going to talk about, either.  I swear that I see people all the time.  Like the ghost at Dance Explosion (that many people have seen) who I know is my grandpa Nettina.  Oh and another time, when I was vacuming, I was positive that I saw grandpa Natwick sitting on my couch.  And the obvious time when grandma Natwick stopped by on her way to heaven to tell me about her chair.  Are you telling me that it is a coincidence that I woke up at the exact time she passed and could think of nothing else but that chair?  OK, I'm getting off track.  Anyway, so it's 5:30 in the morning and I hear a whimpering noise.  First, I dismiss it, thinking that I'm hearing something from the microwave or something outside.  Then it happens again.  And again.  And again.  Enough times that now I know I am hearing something and that it is in the house.  Oh yeah, and it sounds EXACTLY like how Wolfie used to whimper.  Do I think that I have a small child in the other room?  No, of course not.  I immediately jump to the conclusion that my dog has come down from doggie heaven to say hello.  Trying to be sane, I turned on the lights in my room to check on the girls and make sure it wasn't them (Nick was sleeping in the guest bedroom that night - with the monitor.  But that's a whole other story that will take up much too much time).  So anyway, I turn on the lights and Glynnis and Minnie are passed out sleeping.  I'm pretty sure Minnie was snoring, and I'm positive that neither of them were whimpering.  'Great', I think, now I'm just one step closer to crazy.  So what do I do?  I go back out to the kitchen/family room and I'm sneaking around whispering Wolfie's name.  And then I hear it again.  Now I'm sure I'm crazy.  Thoughts of schitzophrenia are running through my head.  Here's the crazy girl who doesn't hear voices.  Oh no, she hears her deceased dog crying for her.  I decide that I need to go wake up Nick because he needs to have me admitted somewhere, he needs to take me to the crazy house and OH MY GOD, why won't that dog stop crying?!?!  It is at this point, when I am about five steps away from the guest room door, that I remember that I have a child.  I walk up to Alexa's door and slowly creep inside her room to find her sitting up, kind of slumped in the corner of her crib.  She looked at me, made her little Wolfie-like whimper and I silently said a small prayer of thanks for the last bit of my sanity.  Apparently, I'm not quite as crazy as I once thought.  When I walked up to Alexa and asked if she was ok, she nodded yes.  And then in a completely big girl and whimper free voice she said "paci fall on floor". 

A Whole Lot of Crazy - Part 1

Alexa has always been great going to bed (when I'm home).  She's one of those kids who you put in the bed, she picks up her paci and bunny, turns on her music, lays down and goes to sleep.  It's a big part of what makes her so incredibly awesome.  So, a few weeks ago (I know, I've been a little too distracted with other things to keep up with the blog lately) we were all doing our usual bedtime routine and for some reason Lexi wanted her paci early.  We are hopefully going to be getting rid of the paci soon, so she only gets it when she is physically in her bed.  So after lots of screaming, we finally put her in the crib, gave her the paci and said good night.  Well, she did not like that at all.  She kept on screaming that she was "all done night night" and after lots of hugs and kisses I just told her it was time to go to sleep and left her in the crib to scream by herself.  No big deal.  I assumed she would just lay down and go to sleep like she always does.  About two minutes later, as I was doing dishes, I looked up to see her door slightly open.  My first thought was 'why did Nick go in there?  She finally quieted down and she needs to just put herself to sleep.'  Then I saw a little 2.5 foot creature in her pink footie pajamas creep around the door, grab the handle and slowly pull it closed.  She turned around to look at me with an expression of equal parts awe, excitement and pure terror.  And then she said "hi".  Crazy girl had climbed out of her crib, somehow (thank God) landed on her feet and decided to come hang out with the grown ups.  We scooped her up and I read her some books as Nick took the bumpers off of her crib.  I know it's something we should have done months ago but she likes her crib so much, I never thought she'd try to climb out of it.  Plus, she's so short the side rails on the crib come up to her armpits.  Even if she used the bumpers to stand on, I thought it'd be impossible for her to actually get out.  Well apparently I have been proven wrong.  As usual.  And after laying on the floor next to her crib pretending to sleep and watching her crawl out not one but two more times that night without the help of the bumpers, I have come to the conclusion that my child has super human upper body strength.  She goes to the front right corner of her crib, grabs onto the outside of the rail and pulls herself up until she can get her right leg up onto the right side rail.  Then she uses her leg to help pull herself up so that she's laying on top of the side rail on her belly and I assume then she swings her legs around to drop and land on her feet (I 'woke up' and stopped her when she got to her belly).  I guess that its a good thing that we drilled into her head to get down from the couch or our bed feet first.  At least maybe that helped her from landing on her head.  Needless to say, we went out and got another video monitor after that night (our first one had broken months ago and we've just been using an audio monitor).  And, so far, she hasn't tried to climb out again.  Which I'm very happy about.  Alexa really does love her crib and, the way that she sleeps, I wouldn't trust her to be in a toddler bed.  Plus, I like knowing that when we put her to bed at night she has to stay there until we get her in the morning.  No night time strolls around the house or midnight play time in her room.  I'm not ready for that yet.

Russia

OK, so obviously I haven't been writing on my blog for awhile.  In fact, this is the first time I've even looked at it since the last post.  First I noticed that there were still no comments, which makes me look like a loser.  And then I noticed that my blog had 26 views from Russia today.  What's up with that?  Russians, I don't know you.  Please stay away from my blog.  I made it public so that people who were asking to find it could find it easier, not for Russians to read it.  If you are Russian and you can read English, stay away from my blog please!  Unless you like me, then by all means stay.  Nope.  I changed my mind, don't read, you make me nervous.  Is there any way to block Russia from a blog?  Just wondering.

Ballerina Roach

You know how I hate roaches? No? Well, I do. They're horrible and are on my list of the top three things which should become extinct (along with alligators and toads). For my whole life they have been out to get me. I am not kidding. I have distinct memories of playing in the living room at my parents house right after we moved in (I was 5) and pulling a dead roach out of the shag carpeting. (I realize that one was dead and could not possibly be out to get me, but still) They have crawled across my arm when I was working at my dad's shop in Miami. They have tried to attack me in my house. I have even witnessed a flying roach fly down my mom's shirt (which, I'm not gonna lie, was half terrifying and half hilarious). Usually, when I see them, I run for cover and scream at someone else to go kill it. Once, I was laying in my bed, saw a roach on the opposite wall, and instead of killing it, I pulled the blanket over my head and called Nick (who was in the other room) on my phone to come and get rid of it. I think I have made my point.

So, a couple of weeks ago (it has actually taken that long for me to talk about this) I was at work giving report to the oncoming nurse. Now, let's remember that it was 7am, I had been at work for 12 hours and I was pretty much delirious with no filter. OK, so we were standing outside the patient's room when the day shift nurse, let's call her Betsy, casually said to me "oh, look at that little roach running". What?! How can you even speak that sentence no nonchalantly?! And, little roach? Oh no, that thing was a freaking monster! And you bet your ass it was running...right toward me! Plus, it was running and barely touching the floor! It's like the thing was running on pointe. It was freaking ballerina roach in attack mode coming to get me!!! What do I do? Of course I jump around screaming "kill it, Betsy, kill it!!!!" (Which is what every PICU patient and family want to hear at 7am, I'm sure.) I tried to move laterally and what does the roach do? Turn toward me. It can sense my fear. Finally, after 3 stomps (3 stomps!!!) Betsy killed the roach and then kicked it under the counter thing of the nurses station (where, I'm sure it was regenerating and planning it's next move). Meanwhile, all the other night and day shift nurses are at the nurses station either looking at me like I'm crazy or hysterically laughing at me. I, of course, announce that I'm having palpitations and that I needed to finish giving report on the other side of the unit because I really feel that the roach is going to come back from the dead and attack me again. Seriously.

I know that I live in Florida and that means that there are roaches everywhere. I also realize (in the rational part of my brain) that the roach really can't hurt me and that my fear would be better placed on even something like a bee or a wasp where there is a small but real potential for harm. But I don't care. Bees and wasps don't freak me out. I have no problem killing spiders or any other kind of bug that gets into the house, and I'll pick up lizards and put them back outside without even squirming. But for some reason, I can't handle a roach. I think we should kill them all.

The Bulletin Board

OK, so they have this bulletin board at work where they talk about the staff.  There's a little paragraph or two about where the nurse/secretary/PCA grew up, went to school, hobbies, why you like working in Peds, etc.  And then each person has a picture by their little summary thing.  (Well, most people have a picture.  There's one picture that makes me feel slightly uncomfortable and another one that has a picture of the beach...no person, just the beach.)  This board is right in the middle of a wall between Peds and the PICU so it's there for everyone (patients, families, everyone) to see.  When asked the "why do you like working in pediatrics?" question, every one's answer is something like "I love working with kids" or "my coworkers are great and I love the kids" or "little kids are so sweet and innocent" or "any time I can get even a small smile out of a child, it makes my day."  (yes, I got up just now to make sure that I got that all right)  Anyway, so I was joking around last weekend about how they would never put me up on that wall because they'd be afraid of how I would answer the questions.  For example, if asked why I enjoyed working in pediatrics, I would answer that, given the choice, I'd much rather clean up baby poop than adult poop.  Now, that's an honest answer.  Well, now wouldn't you know that on Monday morning, one of the leadership people asked if she could interview me for the board?!?!  First of all, this person works day shift in the out patient area so I have spoken to her a total of about 2 times (including my little 'interview').  And I'm about 99% sure that she asked about me (mostly who I was, but also if I was married, had kids, etc) before this so called interview.  I have my sources.  Anyway, she interviewed me at7 in the morning after I had just worked all night (without much sleep the day before) and was exhausted so the filter was way off.  Plus, she asked me all these questions in the middle of the nurses station with both the night shift and oncoming day shift nurses (who I happen to really like) there so I felt the need to make small comments after each of my answers.  For example, when asked where I grew up I answered "Hollywood, Florida" and then proceeded to do a single handed raising of the roof while singing in my ghetto voice "Holly-hood!"  See?  Filter off.  I couldn't help myself.  It was my musical turrets.  It's hereditary, right Katie?  I think I did OK with the middle questions about school and stuff.  I told her about how I danced in a company in college and how I teach now.  I talked about competition but I don't think she really got it.  Then came the question I was waiting for!  She asked me why I enjoyed working in peds and I answered, without hesitation, that given the choice, I'd much rather clean up baby poop than adult poop.  She stared at me.  Courtney and Catherine laughed.  She asked me what I wanted the board to say and I told her to write something about how kids are wonderful and I work with awesome people but right as I was answering, Courtney said "no, she said the poop thing, that's what you should write!"  Then Courtney (she used to work night shift) said that I was really funny so my interviewer wrote on her paper "funny".  So, needless to say, I'm pretty excited for the new board to come out.  Oh, and she also asked me to email her a picture of myself and tonight, as I was looking for one, I discovered that there are none.  At least none in the past four or five years where I don't look like a complete idiot.  Most of the recent pictures of me include Alexa:

 Or, they are of Katie and I acting like a bunch of fools:

 Or, Katie and I trying to be pretty (while wearing other people's mickey hats...sorry Lauren):

 Or, we take pictures to bring attention to serious issues.  For example, this picture, which clearly demonstrates the many dangers of under aged driving:

 There is the random picture of me posing with objects (not shown is me with flowers (which happen to be a great example of my best friend's wedding colors), me with random pieces of food and me with various Christmas presents...I like the croquet mallet picture the best):

 And then there is this one, which I still consider to be one of my finest moments and pretty much the best picture ever taken (slight exaggeration):

In conclusion, I have decided that my little personal summary thing is either going to be highly offensive to others or an extreme misrepresentation of me.  It could go either way.  Oh, and also, I need to have her take a picture of me because I don't think they will approve of my options and I refuse to have a random beach scene as my photo.

Nick's Log Blog

For some reason, in the past month or so, Nick has discovered the fact that I have a blog.  Well, not really.  He knew that I had it before but referenced it only to say how I make fun of him (like in this post, which I still feel is highly informative) and degrade him as a husband.  This usually leads to me telling him that he shouldn't take me so seriously and to pretty much suck it up.  You know who you married.  Anyway, since some people he knows started reading my little blog, he is now (in true Nick fashion) all about it.  Seriously, I don't understand where all this confidence in me comes from.  He tells me how awesome I am (and really, who am I to correct him?) but it kind makes me feel like I have to live up to it.  For example, after this past weekend's competition we were talking about the various awards that my dances got and he said (and I quote) "well, I really expect nothing less from you".  OK, great, you believe in me, but no pressure!  So, back to my story.  He now randomly throws in little comments about my blog or asks me if I'm going to write about something in it.  When we were driving to Jacksonville he announced (after I rightfully corrected something he said) that he was going to start his own blog which will pretty much document every time that I correct him.  So then for the rest of the weekend he would randomly shout out something like this:  "3:41 - My wife tells me I'm wrong".  Well that's boring, who wants to read about that?!  Plus, you're not even saying what you were 'wrong' about, you have to be more specific. (I'm almost positive that this prompted another shouting of the time and accusation).  I told him that what he is writing (in his head) is not a blog, it's a log.  It's a log blog.  Just a list of things he's wrong about.  I can't help it if he says the wrong word sometimes or uses incorrect grammar or takes too long to do math in his head.  And, really, I'd rather correct him then have someone else have to do it.  I'm making him a better person.  He should be grateful.  (hehehe)

P.S. - Nick really is a wonderful person who uses excellent grammar and says the right word 99% of the time (which far surpasses my skills).  I just really do find it necessary to point out when something wrong slips out.  Call it a personal flaw on my part.  Also, this is a true story with some of my own sarcasm thrown in.  The conversations were true...my superiority complex, not so much.  I do not, in fact, think that I am as awesome as Nick thinks I am.  (that was a disclaimer solely for him in prevention of further time and accusation shouting)

P.P.S. - It's 5:23am and I'm really tired right now, almost delusional.  Consider this part of my own Log Blog.

P.P.P.S. - Nick chose to put up the pool by himself this year.

My Little Puker

Before I get into Alexa's puking story...guess what?  My little blog has had 3,000 views as of, well, 2 minutes ago!  I know that's not a whole lot, but to me, it's exciting.  Especially since I have an embarrassing few number of followers.  So, if you want to follow me by email you can do so right over <------- there.  And, you know, tell your friends and leave a comment or two so that I can eventually quit my night job and become a professional blogger.  I was going to say day job but being that I work night shift, it wasn't too appropriate.  Also I foresee problems in the potential of quitting my night job to blog seeing that I do all my blogging from work.  But that's besides the point.

About 2 months ago Alexa got sick.  Like, high fever, sitting miserably on the couch all day, nasty sick.  Which, if you know anything about Alexa, that is not like her (the 'sitting on the couch - or anywhere - for an extended period of time' part).  A couple of times during that illness she threw up when she had a super high fever.  She got over it, no big deal, I thought the throwing up was a one time kind of thing.  Especially since she had been sick a lot in the previous 6 months (stupid day care) and hadn't had a problem vomiting.  Oh, did I mention that she only puked on me?  Yeah, that's important, remember that. 

So fast forward to last Friday night.  Alexa had been not herself all day Friday (low grade fever, runny nose) and a little after midnight she woke up crying.  I got up and went into her room expecting her to be hot, which she was.  We were quietly doing our thing...I changed her diaper, took her temperature, I was holding her in the bathroom getting out the Tylenol when I felt a heave and then felt something warm on my shoulder.  Of course she had puked.  On me.  Again.  She kept going a little bit so I hung her over the sink.  When she was done I took off her shirt and then took off my shirt (the first thing she did after puking was to try to put her head on my shoulder right where the puke was so that thing had to go quick) and tried to wash off Bunny (no! not Bunny!!!).  Just as I had Bunny in the sink, Nick came walking in to see what was going on.  He opened the bathroom door to find Alexa sitting on the counter and me standing in front of her, both of us topless.  I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure he smirked when he said "shirts?"  I'm also going to assume that he was too worried about Alexa to bring me a shirt also because he definitely just came back with one for her. 

We ended up sleeping in our sick bed (Alexa and I, that is) aka the guest room that has a full size bed in it which is pushed up in a corner so that Hot Stuff can't climb/crawl/roll/fall out.  And let me tell you, she tries.  That child is all over the place!  I swear that growing up sharing a bed with Katie was God's way of preparing me to sleep with Alexa.  She wants to fall asleep right next to you which is nice except that when you try to move over (even if she's totally knocked out) she will wake up just enough to scootch up against you again.  Most nights that we sleep in there I end up hugging the side of the bed while Dynamite Jr. is sprawled across my pillow, me and anywhere else she can get her little body.  It's amazing how much room a 31 inch (rounding up) child can take up!  Plus, this time I was trying to keep the covers off her (because of the fever) and on me (still no shirt) so that was a mission in itself.  My mom says that I shouldn't make a habit out of sleeping with her in there but we only do it when she's sick and we like it.  I know it's going to turn around and bite me in the ass in the end, but right now I really don't care.  So anyway, she woke up the next day (at 6:00) feeling just fine and has been fine ever since then so who knows what that was all about. 

What I want to know is why does she always have to puke on me?  She doesn't vomit anywhere else.  Not in her crib, not on Nick, no where but on me.  Does she sense that it doesn't bother me that much (Nursing can make you immune to many things.  But given the choice, I will always choose emesis-free!)?  Or does she just feel comfortable enough with me to think 'oh, Mommy is here, it's OK to let the chunks fly?!'  All I know is that from now on, when Alexa has a fever, I will be wearing some sort of water-proof smock.  They have those, right?

The 31 Party

I know that you are just dying to know how the little party thing went on Thursday.  Well lets just say that it lived up to, and possibly surpassed my expectations.  Let me tell you what happened.  OK, so Alexa and I drove up to the house at 6 which is when it was supposed to start.  There were a bunch of cars in the driveway so that, along with triple checking the house number, reconfirmed that I was, in fact, at the correct location.  (can you see where this is going...I mean, in regards to my craziness?)  I sat in the car for a few minutes deciding how to get into the house because this place (kind of like my house) has a front door, a side door where the garage and driveway are and a back door onto a porch.  What the hell?!  Who knows the appropriate door to knock on?  If you go in through the front door you might be weird or too formal, plus there were no pavers or anything leading up to it which leads me to believe that it is not to be used.  The side door is kind of strange because it goes through a garage which is usually how the family gets in but guests are different.  And going in through the back/porch door is kind of awkward too, what do you just walk into the house and say hi?  It took me like, 3 minutes to contemplate all of this.  After having a small chuckle to myself about a sign I've seen before that says 'back door friends are best' (raise your hand if you know what sign I'm talking about...that's right Katie!) and then making a mental note to jump 'get pavers to lead up to the front door' to the top of the list of things to do around the house, I saw someone walk onto the porch.  Awesome, here's my opportunity.  I get Alexa out of the car and walk onto the porch, introduce myself and then follow the lady (who ended up being someone who lived in the neighborhood but not the homeowner) into the house. 

I tried to say hi and to have a small conversation with people but really, what is there to talk about?  I don't know you and anyone who knows me knows that I literally can not talk to you if I don't know you.  Seriously.  It took me months to talk to people at work...months!  There are some people who I've known for years, you know, those people you see once every six months or so and you see them for a total of 3 hours at some one's party or something?  Anyway, I still don't feel comfortable talking to even those people, how am I supposed to have a conversation with these strangers?  Everyone else was already deep in their own conversations anyway, so Alexa and I walked around a little bit, she played in another room with the little girl who lives there while I awkwardly stood against a wall (not kidding), and we went outside so that she could go on the swing in their backyard. 

Finally, it was time for the 'buy these super cool purses' part of the party to start.  Which, of course, perfectly coincided with Alexa's usual bedtime.  Wonderful.  She ran around the room, I tried to chase her and stop her from doing crazy things like use a wooden duck as a stepping stool to climb onto a trunk (OK, so she wasn't really that bad but she did do the duck thing.  Hopefully she's still young enough to where other people think she's cute and not super annoying...hopefully.)  Regardless, trying to pick out an appropriate order (you know, I don't want to seem too cheap yet I also don't want to spend $100 that I don't have just because I got invited to this party) while chasing around an 18 month old is not my idea of fun.  I finally figured it out and we paid and left.  I said good-bye to the room and no one acknowledged me and then I said good bye to the hostess and thanked her and we drove home.  They probably all talked about me and what a bitch I am when I left, it's like high school all over again.  I had to go home and change my clothes due to the constant heart palpitations, pukey (Is that even a word?  Spellcheck says it's not but I disagree.) feeling and sweating that was going on over the previous two and a half hours.  Thank you self diagnosed social anxiety for once again reminding me why I only have a hand full of friends!  :)  (Apparently with a little paranoia thrown in there.  Have I ever told you that I used to diagnose my friends and family with my pocket DSM-IV in nursing school?  Everyone has a little crazy in them, some just more than others, but that's a whole other blog post!)  I had the purses delivered to the lady's house (instead of paying the extra $8 to have them delivered to my house...$8 to drive around the block is ridiculous!) so we will see what happens when I go to pick them up.  I really hope that they didn't all think I was a bitch because, most of the time, I don't think I am one.  But I can understand how someone can get that impression.  I kind of wanted to make a friend since we are going to be living here you know, forever.  But I guess that comes with time.  Maybe I'll make myself go to the next party too.

Crazy, Just Crazy

I am eventually going to post pictures of our Disney trip (maybe even tonight, if I get motivated) but first I must tell you about my crazy day with my crazy child and my crazy dogs.  First of all, Wolfie isn't doing to hot.  He has some back problems and now he's developed some anxiety.  Yeah, that's right, the dog has anxiety.  Now, normally I would tell him to suck it up and get over it except that his form of anxiety manifests as a high pitched whinny cry that pierces your soul and is never ending.  When you are trying to sleep, you will do anything to make that stop.  Trust me.  That being said, while I sleep, Wolfie is now allowed to roam the house at his leisure instead of going in the crate with the girls.  So I woke up this afternoon, an hour earlier than I wanted to (this is of course after getting up to pee three times because of all the Pepsi I drank at work trying to stay awake through the night) irritated that the one day I can sleep in a little bit, I wake up at 1:30.  Whatever.  So I get up, clean up Wolfie's pee off the floor (I'm not going to even get into that), and take the dogs out.  Of course Wolfie won't go outside so I have to pick him up and put him on the grass where he proceeds to lay down.  Fine, obviously you don't have to pee since you did it already on my wood floors.  He lays there until the girls are done and then finally decides to walk around a little bit and do his business.  So we stay outside longer.  Finally, 15 minutes later, after we all were ready to go back inside, I was able to take a shower and get ready.  I left to pick up Alexa from day care and returned home to find poop on one of the area rugs.  I was gone for about 20 minutes total.  I'm not going to get into how I know it was Wolfie poop but let's just say I have my ways.  The next hour and a half was full of making dinner, eating dinner, getting dressed for work and playing with Alexa/trying to keep her occupied so she will quit screaming like a banshee.  After dinner, we went outside with the dogs.  Everything was fine until it was time to go inside.  Of course that was the point where Alexa decided that she wanted to ride in her car or throw a ball or do anything else that I said 'no' to.  I'd be herding the dogs to the door, I'd get Alexa almost to the door and then she'd run to something else that she wanted to play with.  I tell her no, she throws a fit, I drag her to the door again, repeat, repeat, repeat.  Meanwhile, Wolfie now decided (of course) that it was a nice time to take a walk by the woods.  You have got to be kidding me.  Let's all now think back to that wonderful bear we had about 6 months ago which was never actually caught, which I imagine is sitting just beyond my field of vision waiting to pounce on and eat whatever small creature happens to be walking by.  (Hey, I never said that I didn't have issues too)  So, of course now my priority is Wolfie (who, by the way, I need two hands to carry because of his back) and of course I never got Alexa close enough to the door to actually get her in the house.  I run to go pick up Wolfie and Alexa runs to the swing.  The whole time looking at me and shreiking with laughter.  I loose it, and start screaming that every living creature in this yard better get their butts into the house NOW!  (slight paraphrase) Eventually, everyone got inside, Alexa and I got into the car and I was able to drop her off to Nick who was still at work.  During the whole walk to Nick's room, Alexa and I worked on stopping, going and listening to Mommy.  And I also decided that no one is allowed to chase her around the house for fun saying 'I'm gonna get you!' anymore.  It's banned. 

On a lighter note, Alexa and I are going to a 31 party on Thursday with all of the women in the subdivision we live in.  I'm kind of excited to meet some of our neighbors but I'm mostly terrified of having to actually talk to people I don't know.  In any kind of social situation you can pretty much say good bye to nice, kind of funny, sarcastic and witty Kristin and say hello to silent, awkward Kristin.  And without Nick to hide behind, it will be ten times worse.  At least Alexa is coming with me.  She's a good excuse to have to leave if need be.  I can almost hear my mom asking me "Kristin, did you make any friends today?!"  No, mom, I didn't.  Well, at least on Thursday I can get points for trying.

Tallahassee Drivers, take 2

I feel the need to re-post my rant about the Tallahassee drivers because the people up here still totally suck.  Especially the people who were driving yesterday.  Alexa and I were on our way to Tallahassee for music class.  We go every Friday and by the time we leave the house it's after 9:00 so most people are already at work.  So we were driving up 319 (which is the two lane road into Tally which is usually pretty busy making the chances of passing someone slim to none) stuck behind someone going ridiculously slow, as usual.  Finally, after getting to the area where it changes to four lanes and I can pass the crazies, I was driving along minding my own business when some idiot pulled out right in front of me.  I mean, she had to have done it on purpose.  There was no one else around me...no one in the other lane and she pulls out of a shopping plaza super slow, completely cuts me off and continues to drive at 30mph (the speed limit there is 45).  So of course I had to slam on my brakes and swerve around her so that I don't slam into the back of her car.  And obviously I had to give her a dirty look as I passed by her.  Would you like to know what she was doing as I gave her that dirty look?  Putting on her freaking make up!!!!!  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!  You just almost killed me and my kid so that you can look like something special when you get to where ever you're going?!  You can't wait for a red light?  Or better yet, why didn't you touch up your make up while you were parked in the parking lot you just came out of?!  Is it really necessary to do that as your car is moving?  I feel like it's even worse then the whole texting and driving thing.  I mean, really, since we are talking about making that illegal, we might as well make putting make up on while driving illegal too.  Or any other stupid thing people do.  It's a total lack of common sense.

And since we are on the whole driving in Tallahassee thing, I have another little thing that irritates me.  You know the road I was talking about, 319?  On the way out of Tallahassee it merges from 4 to 2 lanes.  The speed limit is 55.  I swear that people make it their life goal to go as fast as they can and pass everyone around them, which normally I'd be OK with except that after the merge is done, they drop back down to 45 or 50.  That is not cool.  If you were going to go the speed limit (or less), just stay in the right hand lane and let those of us who have no regard for speed limits pass you!  Instead, what happens is that you have lines of cars going 80mph trying to pass one another and then once they've merged, it's down to 45.  Dumb asses.  And I know what you are going to say, 'oh, well maybe they got stuck behind the person in front of them, blah blah blah.'  Nope.  Because on multiple occasions I have moved over to the right to let someone pass me (with no one in front of me) because they were coming up so fast.  And guess what they do once the merge is over?  You got it, down to 50mph.  I think they have like some secret set of rules that they have to know if they learn how to drive here.  It must be on the drivers test because I feel like everyone does the same thing.  Maybe I'll go over to the DMV and ask.  They will probably deny it because I'm not from here.  I'm an outsider.  It's a conspiracy.

Animal Love

We all know about the crazy bird obsession.  And the undying love for Wolfie.  But apparently, Hot Stuff is in love with animals in general.  Evidence:

 Doesn't it look like she's trying to eat her?

Instead of taking  'a bite out of crime'  Alexa takes 'a bite out of cats'. 

And yes, I did just reference an early 90s TV commercial. 

You love it.

 I would like to point out two things in this picture.  #1 - how Alexa is totally loving on the ugliest cat in existence.  #2 - how I am making a face at my mom which clearly says 'can you believe Alexa is totally loving on the ugliest cat in existence and that I am actually holding it...nasty!'

In all honesty, this is actually a very nice cat.  I am not a cat person at all but for some reason, our neighbors always have very nice (not so nasty) cats.  Despite being the hairless kind.  Of course they have another cat who is full of nice soft hair but does Alexa want to pet that one?  No, of course not.  She wants to pet the bald cat.  She followed Ally (the cat) onto the patio at their house and pointed to her nose and gave her a kiss on the mouth.  The pictures were taken during our attempt to make her do it again.

Lexi was also in love with Patches, my brother's dog.  At first Patches and his other dog, Allie, completely freaked her out.  They are much bigger then what she's used to, but once they calmed down it was another love fest.  Pats, hugs, kisses, I'm surprised she didn't try to ride her.  Alexa even tried to pick Patches up (which obviously didn't work out too well).  Patches just sat there the whole time, what a good girl!  After this, Alexa kept walking around the house pointing at Patches and saying 'Paa paa'. 



Two kind of crazy things that happened today...well, yesterday (it's after midnight)

#1 - Alexa and I got swarmed by birds in the Walmart parking lot.  She loved it, I thought I was going to die.  I can't believe I'm actually admitting that I shopped at Walmart.  Don't judge me, it's by far the cleanest Walmart I've ever been in (not that I've been in many) and the nearest Target is something like 30 miles away.  Alexa is still obsessed with birds and can spot them even if they are just specks in the sky.  There always seem to be birds around the Walmart or Winn Dixie (again, no Publix for miles) parking lots so we usually stop to look at the nasty creatures, I mean, birds.  So we were walking out of Walmart, looking at the birds, doing our usual routine when a flock of seagulls (hehehe...I am not even kidding) started flying right over and around us.  They didn't come any closer then about 20 feet from us so the logical part of my brain was staying relatively calm but the other, non logical part of me was freaking out.  Those nasty birds with their beaks and their feathers flying all around us, threatening to poop on us.  Ughhhh.  Gross.  Meanwhile, as I was having a minor attack, Alexa was in heaven.  She sat there in the buggy pointing with a huge smile on her face saying things like 'oh' and 'hi' and 'ba' (which is Alexa for bird).  I was ducking and running to our car and she was having the time of her life.  Then, just as I'm finally starting to escape the bird attack, my brother in law and nephews drive up and see us both acting like fools.  Me cowering, Alexa screaming in laughter.  Awesome, just awesome.

#2 - Alexa asked to use the potty today.  We have a potty in her bathroom that pretty much just sits there looking pretty.  I realize that she won't be able to use the potty for awhile but why not have one there so that she can get used to seeing it, right?  It's pretty obvious that she's seen me on the toilet plenty of times (as evidenced by previous posts) and I feel like that's a good thing (hopefully, she will never think that the potty is scary).  We were putting towels away in my bathroom today when she walked up to the toilet and pointed at it.  I asked her if she had to use the potty just to see what she would do and she shook her head yes.  OK, interesting.  Then I asked her to bring me to her potty (thinking that she would bring me into her bedroom or the office or something like that).  She grabbed my finger and walked in front of me all the way to her bathroom door and then banged on it.  I opened the door and she pointed to her potty.  So we took off her pants and diaper and she sat on it.  Nothing happened but we sang some made up potty songs and she sat there for a little bit, until she got tired of sitting, at which time we put back on the pants with a fresh diaper.  I know it's not super exciting and I know that everyone thinks their own kid is fantastic but I was impressed that the 16 month old wanted to sit on the potty.

Friends

Do you watch Friends? I love that show. I'm pretty sure I've seen every episode at least 10 times. When Jaime and I lived together we would have complete conversations consisting of nothing but quotes from Friends episodes. Pretty awesome, I know. Anyway, when everyone was up here for Christmas, Ricky was sitting next to Alexa when she was eating. I heard him asking her if she wanted more and he kept repeating and emphasising the word more. I thought: 'Great, we've been working on the sign for more. I'm glad he's doing it with her'. OK, not so much because when I walked over to them every time he said more he would double bump his fists together with the back of his hands facing her. He thought he was doing the correct sign for more. I informed him that he was flicking off my kid Friends style.

Someone Get That Girl a Corndog, STAT!!!

So I was on Pinterest today, which is one of my new favorite websites to go on. Anyway, I came across this pin that was probably one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen. Here it is:

Wrong. Are you freaking kidding me?!?! That is such bullshit. I have been both skinny and chunker (just ask Katie about my triple chin 'fat Kristin' years) for my size so I feel like I'm in a good position to call bullshit on this pin. First of all, there are lots of things that taste better than skinny feels. Lots. Shall we name a few?! Brownies, ice cream, bread, pasta, peanut butter balls, cheese, pepperoni, tacos, any breakfast food. I could go on and on. Second, did you look at the girl in the picture?! Whoever thinks they are going to be able to look like that (and thinks it looks good) is delusional. My thighs haven't been that thin since I was 3 months old, and I am completely OK with that. I don't need to wear a little bikini to the beach, I'm perfectly happy in my skirt bathing suit. She looks anorexic. This is like the poster-pin for the FATS (Future Anorexic Teenager Society). Wouldn't it be hilarious if there was actually a group called the FATS?! I may have to try to start one. hehe. OK, off topic. I just can't get over how someone would look at this and honestly find motivation in it without making themselves feel like crap. Obviously you are never going to look like her. She is barely a real person! Whatever happened to feeling comfortable in your own body and having a positive self image? What happened to exercising and eating right (not that I eat right at all) to get to your own personal ideal body weight? All I have to say is that whoever came up with this phrase obviously has never had a peppermint chocolate chip milkshake from Chick-fil-A.

How many people does it take to get a baby out of a locked car?

Six. Myself, Alexa's teacher, two sheriff deputies, one captain and a lock smith. Yeah, I locked my kid in the car. On accident. Obviously. I had picked Alexa up from day care and she was 'helping' by holding onto my keys. As I was putting her into the car seat she started pressing the buttons on the car keys so I made a comment that was something like 'OK, that's enough with the keys' and took them from her and tossed them into the front seat. I finished buckling her in, got everything situated in the back and closed her door. I tried to open my door and realized that she had pressed the lock button. Oh. Crappers. Of course I ran around the whole car trying all the doors and none of them worked (surprise, surprise) then I tried the trunk because I had just gotten diapers out of there. Perhaps it didn't latch all the way...no such luck. At this point I think it sunk in and I started mildly freaking out. So, I went back into the day care and told them what I did. Everyone was super helpful. One of Alexa's teachers got on the phone with the police station and told them the situation and apparently they were going to send someone right over. OK, so ten minutes later, her teacher and I are still standing outside my car waiting for (and now trash talking) the police guy who was supposedly on his way. Did I mention that the sheriff's office is approximately 2 minutes down the road? No exaggeration. Oh! And when Lexi's teacher was on the phone with the dispatch person they were asking her all these ridiculous questions like: Did you try all the doors? and Are the windows open? Really, people. Do you honestly think we would be calling you if the window was open and I was just able to reach in and unlock the door myself? Anyway, finally, after apparently finishing his lunch, a sheriff deputy showed up. He explained how they are no longer allowed to open cars due to liability reasons (what?! fine, then why are you here?) and he came over to make sure that it wasn't an emergency. I'm sorry, I didn't realize that a baby locked in a car was something that we can all take our time on. No worries. She's fine in there buckled in the car seat with nothing to play with, peeing all through her diaper and breathing in all of her exhaled CO2 as the oxygen level in the car is being slowly but surely depleted. I'm sure she's becoming more and more acidotic as we speak. And if that child looks the least bit lethargic I'm breaking the window. OK, so I didn't say any of that...but I was thinking it. What I did say was that if she was in any distress that window would have been broken ten minutes ago. (meanwhile, Alexa is sitting in her car seat clapping her hands and waving at her teacher) So, long story short(ish), dispatch had called a locksmith, the sheriff department captain showed up to make sure everything was OK. The locksmith was about two minutes behind him, and all of a sudden there were five people surrounding the car trying to get the door open. Lexi's teacher was talking to her and clapping hands, the first cop was on the passenger side doing God knows what, the locksmith was doing his thing on the drivers door, the captain was "helping" the locksmith (and by helping, I mean totally screwing him up) and I was at the hood of the car watching what the locksmith was doing (what? I've never seen someone break into a car before, I was interested in the process!). At this point, all I could think of was the reality show/sitcom that should be based on my family and that this whole scenario would totally be a whole episode! Katie thinks that our family would be perfect for a reality tv show and every so often when something like this happens I think of how it would be on an episode. Kind of strange, but very entertaining. So back to the car...I'm thinking of all this while they are trying to pry my door open and trying my hardest not to laugh. It would be inappropriate. I think I did pretty good although I did have to put my head down and chuckle a few times. They finally got the door open just as the third cop got there (you know, just to make sure everything was alright. It takes them awhile to respond, but eventually, a baby locked in a car is big news to the Wakulla County Sheriff's department.) Alexa was fine, she only cried a little bit when she saw me and couldn't get to me (one of the reasons why I was at the hood and her teacher was talking to her). She had peed through her diaper and onto her car seat but no signs of respiratory acidosis. (One of) the best parts of this story was me telling Nick later on. I didn't call him when it happened because, really, what's the point? He didn't have a spare key, there was nothing that he could have done. (Small back story: the day before when he got home from work I asked him to choose good news or bad news. The bad news was that I dropped a stocking holder on the floor which made a gash in the wood and the good news was that I had a list of things for him to do (what? It was good news to me.)) So the conversation went something like this:

Me: Good news or bad news first?

Nick: Is there actually good news today because a list of things to do is not good news.

Me: Oh no, there's good news. The good news is that she's ok.

Nick: What's the bad news?

Me: I locked Alexa in the car today. (at this point, he silently turned around, walked into our bedroom and closed the door)

Hehehe. No worries, he came out a few minutes later, and after hearing my (obviously, drawn out) explanation, reassured me that it was an accident and could have happened to anyone. He's so nice. Then he proceeded to tell me that I should have called him because he would have come right over and broken the window to get her out. And that is reason #1 why I didn't call him. So, there are 2 morals to this story. #1: have a spare key. #2: hold onto your keys when putting your baby in the car because she just might press the lock button and then you just might throw the keys into the front seat and then you just might close the door without realizing that she had actually pressed the lock button locking her and your keys in the car. It just might happen.

Does a Bear Shit in the Woods?

That's always been the assumption but I bet if I looked in the woods around my house I could answer that question once and for all. That's right, we have a bear. Nick called me at work and told me that he was taking the dogs out at night and saw a bear. We have halogen lights in the back that have motion sensors on them. We always go out there and check for creatures first before taking the dogs out and (thank God) we always keep them close to us. So I guess he checked and everything, he was standing outside with them and he looked up and saw a bear standing about 30 feet away from him! So after he just about crapped his pants, he picked up Minnie and Wolfie (who don't walk as well or listen as well) and told Glynnis to go inside and backed away toward the house. The bear ran into the woods when he started backing away. OK, so he calls me at work and tells me all this. Completely freaks me out. The next night I was at home so we both took them out. As I was watching the side of the house near the driveway I saw the bear run down the entire tree line and into the woods. HOLY SHIT! This is no little bitty bear either. I'm talking about a 250-300 pound bear. No exaggeration! By the way, I forgot to say that the first night was right before garbage day so our can was out by the street and the bear had knocked over the can and pulled garbage out into the woods. Nick cleaned it all up when he saw it the next morning but it just means that he's been roaming all over our property which is 5 acres! OK, so at this point we had to do something about the bear. I named him Barney and then decided that I should only name things that I like so that was pointless. Nick did something a little more productive and called the Florida Wildlife people. He told them about how close the bear got, the garbage episode, our little 10 pound dogs, the fact that we have a 12 month old, etc, etc, etc. And what did the guy on the phone say?! "Well that's what you get for living in bear country" WHAT?! Are you freaking kidding me!? No talk about trapping the bear or anything like that. He said that he would send us a bear package in the mail with a coloring book in it. First of all, my kid just turned 1. She doesn't color yet, you dumb ass. Secondly, do your job and come get this bear out of my yard! I told my friend, Denise, about all this and she couldn't believe it. She said that we practically live in downtown Crawfordville! hahahaha! I'm sorry, anyone who has been to Crawfordville knows that that statement in itself is pretty humerus! We got this "package" the other day and it's a pamphlet and the coloring book that talk all about how lucky we are to live near bears and that we need to appreciate them, blah blah blah. You know what it made me realize? I now know that bears are tied with snakes at the number four spot of things I think should be extinct. They are right below roaches, toads and alligators.

It has now been two weeks since the bear sightings. We haven't had any more issues with our can on garbage day and there's no other sign of him around. We have installed super flood lights that are even brighter then the ones we previously had and Nick brings his gun when we take the dogs out at night, just in case. Let's just all hope that the bear stays away!

That crazy bitch...Tinkerbell, who did you think I meant?!

I was just searching the internet for a picture of Tinkerbell with a big cross or X through her. You know, to further illustrate for you my dislike. And let me tell you, I have found my people!!! Apparently there is a whole anti-Tinkerbell movement. Well maybe that's a slight exaggeration. But still. There is a facebook page that you could 'like' with a description that says some thing like 'why the obsession with Tinkerbell when she's not even a real princess?!' Exactly!!! I personally think that she is a dirty whore. What? You think this is a family blog?! I talk about boobs here, I think I can use the words dirty whore. Especially when they're true. Seriously, is that the kind of role model you want for your kid?! She steals Minnie's thunder (with all the merchandise they sell with her on it), she hardly has any clothes on and she totally tries to sabotage Peter and Wendy's relationship. Well...maybe not, but still. I'm still not clapping my hands for that bitch! And you can make fun of me for feeling so strongly about a fictional Disney character but I don't really care. One website even cautioned against getting a Tinkerbell tattoo because it's associated with drug use. See, these are the type of people who like Tinkerbell...druggies! By the way, I love Peter Pan, it's one of my favorite Disney movies. I think he was the first red head I've ever loved. Haha. But anyways, it's just that nasty Tinkerbell who I don't like. Hayley told me she was going to save the 3-4 year old ballet Tinkerbell song she has for when Alexa is in her class. I told her that I'd take her out and bring her to the other dance studio. She laughed and thought I was kidding...not so much! Here's a picture of Alexa's princess bath toys with Tink facing the correct way...at the wall.
Hahaha, I hope you've enjoyed my crazy Tinkerbell rantings. This is the craziness that occurs at 5am....two hours left until I get to go home.