It's not the heat...it's the humidity

Due to my continuing effort to break the -26lb mark, I went running last night. Outside. And right as I was thinking that it had to be close to 100% humidity, it started raining. So, yay! for my mad weather skills...but boo! for running in insane humidity. At 6:05pm, I sweat more than any human should ever sweat. My shins were sweating.

During an attempted cool-down stretch, I could tell my internal temperature was reaching a not so good level. I asked Travis to get me a glass of ice water so I could immediately stand in front of a fan. He gave me a look that was clearly conveying his feelings that I was being lazy by not just getting my own glass of water. So I sweetly explained by saying, "Thank you! I can feel myself overheating and I really need to stand in front of the fan."

And he questioned my use of "overheating," saying he has never heard anyone use that to describe a human condition. To which I say, you knew what I getting at. So what if I used a car maintenance term to describe the lava-like temperature my body was rapidly approaching. It's called a metaphor, ass. Now where's my water?

Friendly Reminder

Travis and Alex chased and bounced a big blue ball we got out of the giant bin at Menards around the house for a solid 12 minutes last night. The ball is big enough that Alex can barely grab it. Most the time he ends up accidentally kicking it when he bends down to pick it up, thereby increasing the chasing part of the game. That seriously never, ever stops being funny.

The house was bursting at the seams with belly laughs and happy screeches. Moments like that help you remember having a kid is actually pretty fun. Those are the moments that refresh your sanity and fill your heart. And hands down, a toddler laughing is the happiest sound on the planet.

Score!

Huge benefit to being the one that drops off the kid in the morning? Mid morning Fruit Loops snack. He didn't ask for them on the way to daycare. But he did eat 1/4 of my bagel so I figure his Fruit Loops are fair game.

Totally Capable

Does the scary, reeling, iamsureiammessingthiskidup feeling ever go away? The reasonable part of my brains know that he is a 2 year old. There is a reason they call them the Terrible Two's. I am not doing anything that is causing permanent damage. And he is a good boy from time to time.

But then the irrational part of my brains take over and I come to the conclusion that I am doing everything wrong and he is going to be all messed up. And there I will sit in my room with white padded walls, watching his latest appearance on Cops, trying to figure out where I went wrong.

Am I too lenient? Am I too strict? Am I setting up him for failure by telling him no, but not removing the object he can't have or moving him away from said object? Or does he need to learn to listen better? Am I making him share enough? How in the hell do I get him to stop throwing anything and everything he can gets his hands on?

Seriously, it's not funny anymore...who the hell stole my Owner's Manual for this kid?

Misery loves company

Ryne's mom asked how our time without Alex was when I saw her yesterday. I told her it was a great break, but him coming home and all of us adjusting back to normal life was terrible. She instantly had a sympathetic face and said, "Oh yeah...we call that 'The Decontamination Period.'"

Even when you know what is happening is perfectly normal and happens to tons of parents all the time, it is really comforting to have someone immediately commiserate about the horrible-ness of that perfectly normal situation.

Well that sucked.

Alex came home last night. I met up with his aunt and uncle at a store they needed to go to so they didn't have to take on all of the driving burden involved in getting my child back to me. And it was awesome. I heard him talking to his aunt from a couple aisles over, and then I came around the corner and saw him. He immediately lit up like a roman candle, yelled MAMA!, and came running to me. And...he didn't want to go back to his aunt. Which was not the case last time they had him. Last time he wouldn't leave her side and didn't want to come to me. He's lucky he changed his ways.

So we transferred the 18 tons of stuff I sent with him for his trip into my car, gave kisses and waved good-bye. And everything was great. For like 5 minutes. Then all of sudden the sun was too bright. And he couldn't see any motorcycles. And he didn't want to see Travis or the dog. And then he didn't want to get out of the car. But he didn't want to stay in it either. Awesome.

I finally got him out of the car and low and behold he was happy to see both Travis and Aiden. So I foolishly thought things were going to be great for the rest of the night. And then he hit me. In the head. So within 15 minutes of being home, he was in his room screaming his way through a time out.

The next two hours carried on in much the same fashion. Fits inside, pretending to wipe out on his bike outside, hitting me, being straight up rude. We handled each incident appropriately, until I couldn't take it anymore and went in the house to cry a little.

It was awful. I was so excited to see him and to have him back home. So excited to play and laugh and snuggle and learn new stuff. And all he wanted to do was be a big jerk. So the totally rational part of me took over and I decided this 2 hour stint was proof that we are not good parents and he is clearly happier with someone else. See? Totally rational. It was just such a shitty feeling to have my excitement quite literally slapped right out of me. Pretty sure crying within 2 hours of having your kid back is some sort of world record.

I was able to get myself back to reality and understand that we all need a little time to readjust to normal life. For four days, he had the undivided attention of 5 people...and we had a taste of our sweet long lost freedom. Not normal living for any of us. With a little extra patience, some solo play time, and a splash of tv, the rest of the night went pretty well. We read a lot of books before bed time and after a quick rendition of "Me & Bobby McGee," Alex was in bed and asleep.

This morning was so much better. He woke up happy and ready to start the day. There was still a hint of last nights debauchery seeping in here and there, but all in all it was good. Good thing...'cause whether we like it or not, we are all stuck with each other...in one little most of the time happy, some of the time well functioning family.

It's a Date!

We had a real live date last night! And didn't have to worry about when we got home, or paying a babysitter or making sure we didn't miss a phone call. It was so so strange. I couldn't shake the feeling we were forgetting something. It was just so weird not having Alex around.

I also got to shower before work today. I haven't been able to do that since the beast learned how to walk. And we are going out to dinner tonight. With adults and no kids. I'm tellin' you...a girl could get used to this.

But then there is that heart wrenching feeling every time I walk past his room. I will be relishing this time we have to ourselves...but I am really excited to see him tomorrow night.

So quiet

Alex is on vacation in Platteville. He left yesterday morning and gets back Wednesday night. I was taking forever to say goodbye to him on Sunday and was smothering him with hugs and kisses. He just kept saying, "Bye Mama!" He was so excited to be going with his uncle, aunt and cousins that he through a fit when Travis wouldn't let him stay in their truck after he put the car seat in it.

The oldest cousin is 13 now, so after Alex went down on Saturday night, we left the boys at home and the four of us went out. Aside from a phone call due to one brother convincing another brother the house was haunted, all went well. I had a little too much fun. Shocking, I know. So, I did not feel well in the morning. Like really didn't feel well. It sucked on so many levels. But the thing that bugged me the most is that Alex is almost always in a super good mood when he is with his cousins. And he was being super cute all morning. I felt like poo and wasn't being very interactive. It's hard to be interactive when the cold, hard wood floor in your son's room is calling you to lay down and absorb its refreshing, non-vomit-inducing, coolness.

Anywho, we got him all packed up and away they went. I was immediately sad and guilty. Really nice when you are too hungover to play with your super cute kid before he leaves for 4 days. I felt about 1/4" tall. But being that small put me closer to the cold hard wood floor, so I got over it pretty quickly.

It's barely been 24 hours and I miss him already. I was looking forward to this break. For a chance to recharge my patience. For some quiet around the house and a 10 minute commute to work instead of the normal 40. And while I am enjoying all of those things, I miss the little sucker. And then I got a text from my sister-in-law at 8:30 this morning. Telling me he is such a good boy and he JUST WOKE UP. At 8:30. Little shit.

Bath time fun

Once again, the mention of bath time sent my filthy little beast child into fits. I still have no idea where this came from...he loves it once he's in there. Flops around like crazy, blows bubbles in the water, fills-empties-fills-empties little squirty monsters. But man oh man, getting him in there is somethin'.

Everything was giggles and raviolis last night, and then I went ahead and informed Mr. Alex it was time for a bath. And he turned into a screaming, kicking, pleading, crying little mess. He even tried to put his shoes back on after I took them off. You would have thought I was removing a layer of skin based on the "NOOOOO TAAAAAANK YOOOOOOOU!" when I was taking his shirt off.

So I finally get him undressed and undiapered and into the bathroom. I turn on the water which instantly calms him, while I am sitting on the edge of the tub with him standing between my knees. And then he peed on my leg. It startled me just a bit. Weird, right? Whether I should have expected it or not, I was still startled. So I yelped kinda and jumped back a bit. Which of course startled him and he immediately was no longer soothed by the running water and was once again crying. I am sooo good at this.

First time for everything

So you know when I figured out that I need to take both the morning and the evening dose of my makeyourbrainsworkright pills? And you know how I am not famous for my memory? Yeeeeaaahhh. Not a good combo. The problem is I don't remember to take the evening one until I am getting ready for bed and I see the bottle in the bathroom cabinet, where it is right next to my toothbrush to help me remember to take it in the morning. And then it's right before I'm going to bed and I have decided taking it then would only disrupt my sleep even more. So I don't take it and promise myself I will remember the next day when I get home from work. Clearly that is a foolproof plan and is working really well.

Yesterday, it caught up with me. I could feel it starting at work and the yuck feelings only got worse throughout the evening, ending with me crying and not knowing why when I laid down for the night. The not knowing thing just makes it so much worse. It just sucks when all you want to do is cry, but there is no tangible reason for it. Only then to have no tangible reason to use as an explanation for your husband who is clearly concerned that you are just laying there quietly crying. Yay!

I woke up with the same sinking churning gut feeling, but with the added bonus of puffy eyes. But! There's a good part! A silver lining! As soon as I heard, "Mama. I dropped blankee. Blankee on floor." the sinking churning gut feeling went away. The puffy eyes hung around for a bit, but snuggling up on the couch with Alex made me feel so much better.

Obviously I do not blame Alex for my brains being all nutso, but having my brains all nutso makes it harder for me to deal with his Twoishness when it rears its ugly head. So it was a really really great feeling to have the source of a lot of frustration be my saving grace this morning.

He's oooooold

It really hit me this weekend that Alex isn't a baby anymore. It's crazy.

He had his milk in the living room but was clearly done with it. I asked him if he was done and when he said yes, I asked him to put it back in the refrigerator. And he did. He could. He is fully capable of understanding that request and he has the ability to carry out said task.

Baby status: revoked.

When did this happen? No joke, it seemed like last week he was pulling on the refrigerator door with all his might, failing to open it, and declaring it stuck. But now you can find him standing in the kitchen with a newly empty egg carton asking anyone within ear shot "Where'd they go?"

And I swear two weeks ago he could not operate a door knob. He surprised the hell out of Kari when he greeted her by busting in the bathroom, pulling back the shower curtain, and asking for some of the applesauce he was holding.

Fridays

Fridays during the summer I get to "work" from home. We get to do this because we are not very busy in the summer. At all. And my boss likes to be out on his boat and feels bad if he makes us stay in the office. He's cool like that.

Anyway, aside from loving not having to be in the office, I spend my Friday mornings cleaning. Fridays have turned into my day to catch up on the disaster the week has turned my house into. This week I threw the disgusting oven into the Needs Desperately to be Cleaned category. I honestly do not remember the last time I cleaned it. Gross is an understatement.

I also put Alex's squirty bath toys in that category this week. Ya know, since mold came out of them during his last bath.

I run a tight ship around here.

Anatomy lesson

Let's just add this to the list of conversations I never thought I would be having with another human...

To set the stage: Alex takes off running at full speed, while scream-laughing like a crazed hyena, around the house as soon as I finish drying him off from his bath. AKA, naked as a jaybird. Not shockingly, he pees on the living room floor.

Alex (laughing hysterically and holding his penis): I pooped!

Me (not laughing hysterically): No, you peed.

Alex (still laughing): Mama! I pooped!

Me (still not laughing): No, you peed. Pee comes out of there. Poop comes out of your butt.

End scene.

Gee, thanks.

Don't let his expression discourage you Kari...at least he ate it this year instead of screaming at it.

Blueberrypalooza

We had been out of coffee for 3 days. And out of Diet Coke for 2. I have a ridiculous caffeine addiction. I can keep it curbed with one travel mug worth of coffee in the morning and one Diet Coke with lunch. Being without both of my caffeinated vices was bad news bears. The headache I had yesterday morning was terrible. And a terrible reminder that I am so dependent on said vices. Whatevs.

This babble is leading to the trip to the grocery that was more than necessary. I wasn't sure when Travis was going to be done with work, so I bit the bullet and took my chances with the deadly mix of grocery store and beast child. Taking him to the grocery store is a total crapshoot. Sometimes he is totally fine. Other times he is a maniac. Usually when Sir Alex is coming along, we make sure both of us are going...Two herders, one insane sheep. But this time I was all on my own.

So I armed myself with the best ammo I could think of: blueberries. Yes, I know I should wash them thoroughly and scrub each berry with a tiny little fruit scrub brush. Guess what. Ain't happenin'. I was working with a highly volatile bomb-child that was set to explode at random and Mommy needed her fix. Unwashed blueberries here we come.

He sat in the cart and crammed blueberries in his mouth chubby little handful by chubby little handful. The locust-speed blueberry consumption carried on for 3/4 of a pint of blueberries. 3/4 of a PINT. That is a lot of blueberries. And then he suddenly stopped. He gathered up his blanket to form a pillow and put his head down on the handlebar of the cart. Immediately visions of blueberry puke spewing onto the floor consumed my brain. My fears intensifying with each bumpy floor tile.

To my relief he was totally fine. A little food coma, but no puke. I am sure daycare is going to have quite a lovely diaper this morning! Suckers!

Just hangin' out

I know I haven't spoken of her in a while...but Jillian is still a bitch. That is all.