Weird, Funny, Annoying and Disgusting

Weird, funny, annoying and disgusting things Ada has done this week:

Disgusting: I tossed the leftover frosting from a chocolate cake I had eaten the night before into our garbage can and used the side of the can to scrape off the fork. All was fine until Ada threw something away, saw the frosting and decided to have some--from the side of the garbage bag. I freaked out and quickly scrubbed her down and took the garbage out. Yuck.

Funny: On our walk home from day care on Thursday, we got to the corner by our house when Ada started screaming and pointing across the street. She's in a pointing phase now to communicate what she wants. And a bossy phase, but I digress. I waited for the street light to change and took her across the street only to have her walk up to the door of the ice cream shop and demand that I take her inside for a scoop. She must have been channeling a craving from BB in the belly because we all walked away happy. Oddly enough, we hadn't been to the ice cream shop in months due to my heartburn and crazy diet.

Weird: While on a walk yesterday, Ada picked up a small stick to carry. It wore out from her bending and swinging it so we quickly found another, more interesting stick with a good place to hold on to and several arching branches. She enjoyed it all the way around the block until we met up with a dog, I think he was a boxer, and he traded Ada a few kisses for the stick -- and then he devoured it. She found one final stick in front of our house and decided to bring it inside, and put it in her mouth just like the dog did. I washed it off, and her off, and now we have a pet stick.

Annoying: At nap time yesterday, I missed her "sleepy window" in order to feed her lunch. I should have just put her down and let her eat later but hindsight is 20/20. She refused to nap and when I thought she would just play quietly in her room, I laid down on the couch for a mini siesta myself. Twenty minutes later I awoke to her pink unicorn rocking horse on a repeat loop from hell "I'm a magical unicorn, I'm a, I'm a, I'm a magical unicorn..." as she kept pushing the button over and over and over, never letting it cycle through the whole song. I reacted like a grumpy bear by storming into her room, grabbing the unicorn by the handle at the side of its head and swinging it out of her room and into the hallway. GRRR. Then I gave up and let her lay on the couch with me until I woke up more properly five minutes later.

Weird: When I put her down for bed the other night, she refused to get into her toddler bed and insisted upon sleeping on the floor. She pulled down her pillow and blanket, grabbed her stuffed animals and laid down. At that point, I was too exhausted to care. I did warn Rick when he went in to get her the next morning not to step on her and sure enough, she was still lying on the floor in the middle of the room.

Funny: We had friends over for a BBQ last weekend and I cleaned the long mirror in our bedroom of all of the handprints at Ada's height. I didn't bother to clean the upper half of the mirror since I was cutting corners and knew it wasn't that dirty--after all, we don't eat a banana and then go dance in front of the mirror with sticky hands. When I looked at the mirror from an angle the next day, it was clear to see that I hadn't wiped the top down as it had a fine layer of dust adhered to the glass. Oops. At least we can see our legs and shoes clearly when we get dressed in the mornings.

Annoying: Trying to keep Ada from ruining things around the house is no easy task. Last week she was playing with the fireplace tools and I was fine with her using the broom tool since it was still new and had never been used. Then she moved on to the log grabber and scooted it across the cream part of the rug, revealing to me that it had indeed been used and was covered in black soot. That game ended fast and she is now banned from all touching of anything fireplace related. At least the soot came out with a little elbow grease and upholstery cleaner.

More Annoying: I'm a hawk about her and crayons as I've heard several horror stories of crayons and walls and all other surfaces really. She got crayon on her Easter dress and Grandma Ba miraculously got it all out. This time, she had the white crayon in hand and stroked it on the brown part of the rug before I could stop her (what are the odds?). I'll get around to cleaning that up this weekend hopefully.

Weird: She likes to taste the nuts in a trail mix and licks the ones she doesn't like, then leaves them on the floor or the table for you to throw away later. She also likes to dip french fries in ketchup or a sauce and then licks the sauce off and leaves the french fry on your plate. She's still a work in progress.

More Weird: Last night at dinner she poured salt onto the table from the shaker and then licked the table.

Disgusting: With her cough induced asthma, she's been throwing up a lot lately. That itself is gross. But the smell it leaves in your car even after you scrub the car seat is even worse.

Funny: In an attempt to make a cheese sauce for dinner to accompany a baked potato and steamed broccoli, I had a stick of butter in its wrapper sitting out on the counter. Ada grabbed it and took a bite out of it, through the packaging. I later found the chunk she spit it out lying on the floor. At least she didn't eat it.
Moral of the story: Each day that goes by with a child brings more surprises than you could ever imagine.

Now I'm "Round"

This past weekend, Rick and I road tripped up to Minneapolis for the wedding of a very close friend. I'm not excited about road trips and Minneapolis is about the limit of a distance I'm willing to travel in a car without breaking up the trip and making it into something awesome. It isn't a trip I'd be excited about if we weren't able to leave Ada to be passed between, and spoiled by, both sets of grandparents.

A lot happened on the trip, but the main highlight was the epiphany that I am now round.

Bear with me and this will make sense in a moment.

Before the Friday night wedding, we needed to grab some lunch and chose a restaurant on the pedestrian street in downtown Minneapolis called Nicolette Mall. We found a nice place and they only had outdoor seating on high-top tables. Outdoor seating is always tight since sidewalk square footage is so limited and demand for the tables tends to be high when the weather is nice, which it was.

As we sat down at the table, I first had to ask Rick to come over and push my seat closer as the chair's height wasn't allowing me to wiggle anywhere. There was no way a server could have fit between me and the guy at the table behind me. We enjoyed a nice meal and watched as the servers scooted sideways through the crowded lunch goers with guacamole bowls and taco dishes held high. Yum. What a way to spend a Friday afternoon.

There was a moment when my food came that I went to roll open my black fabric napkin and ended up rolling my silverware right off the table top and onto the floor. Thankfully, a thinner, younger woman at the next table hopped down to get it for me. I'm not sure that I would have ever been able to get back up if I'd gone for them, but it didn't really matter since the silverware was soiled at that point anyway. Rick ended up giving me his and ate his tacos with his hands since mine were on flat, hard tortillas and his were soft.

After a delicious meal and good conversation, mixed with my discomfort from the constant state of heartburn that I was in for the duration of the trip, it was time to go. I hopped down from my chair and made it around the table with no problem. Then we had to shimmy sideways toward the entrance and that's when Rick pointed out what should have been obvious to me at this point: turning sideways doesn't do a damn bit of good--I'm the same width either way--side to side or protruding belly button to spine. Sad but true.

As I struggled to squeeze out of the roped off seating area, Rick and I burst into uncontrolled laughter at the thought of my belly matching my width. Thank goodness I have better bladder control at this point in the pregnancy because we couldn't stop laughing.

See if I knowingly choose to sit at outdoor high-top tables while pregnant again!

Moral of the story: There is a point in pregnancy where turning sideways or sucking it in isn't effective anymore. Just remember, it isn't permanent. This too shall pass.

Crayon on the Couch

So not only did Ada stick peas up her nose on Rick's watch this week, but she also got crayon on the couch cushion. How do you get that out? No, seriously, I'm asking. I don't know how. I'm assuming I start with a paper towel and a blow dryer so I can heat the wax and absorb it with the towel. But that's just a guess. I'm assuming it is sort of like candle wax.

Either Rick has been slightly pre-occupied or Ada's just giving him a dose of the terrible twos. At least it is only a 4 inch mark and we have a durable couch fabric that resists most stains. That's my task for this weekend.

Moral of the story: If it can leave a mark (or fit up a nose or in an ear), keep it out of reach of your two-year-old or don't let it out of your sight.

The $100 Pea

First off, Ada's fine.

That's a rule in my house that has been passed down from my mom. As long as you tell her her kids are okay, she'll listen to you. And if you are a police officer at the front door, she'll drill you until it is clear her children and husband are fine, then let you talk. So, Ada's fine...

But...

At dinner Monday night while I was out enjoying pre-natal yoga and Dad was on duty, Ada stuck several peas up her nose. "Several" being 6 6hat we know of. Rick removed five. He thinks she re-inserted two when he wasn't looking, and one is still there. I came home to find Ada watching a movie, the couch cushions on the floor with it's covers removed, and a husband saying "Ada's fine...but..."

Not only did she stick peas up her nose- and a carrot, she also had loose stools that caused not one, but two accidents. Rick just happened to put her on his lap or pick her up both times, resulting in his need to change clothes twice as well. Ada beats him for the most wardrobe changes since her shirt got wet when Rick splashed water in her eyes to try to get the pepper out of them. He was using the pepper near her nose to try to make her sneeze the pea out, but it somehow ended up in her eye and, well, that didn't go so well either.

I got to call our Doctoress who recommended the ER--it's 8;30 pm mind you. She was worried about the wet environment of the nose. If it was her ear, she could wait until morning. So, off to the ER. I got to wear one of those attractive face masks since I'm pregnant and it's flu season. Yeah. Ada thought that was awesome. The ER doctoress tried to remove the pea with no luck. She called an Ear Nose & Throat specialist who said to leave it alone and see him in the morning. "As long as it isn't a battery, and she's breathing fine, it can stay in there overnight." Too bad that wasn't our doctoress' advice or we'd still have our $100 copay.

So, we came home hoping that the pea would fall out overnight and prevent us from having to see the ENT in Skokie and scheduling a "surgery" to have it removed on Friday. Lucky for us all, while changing her this morning, the pea fell out of her pajamas and onto the bathroom floor. Yeah!

Now we just have to keep her from having a repeat performance.

Moral of the story: Kids stick stuff up their noses. As long as it isn't a battery and they can still breath and act normally, it probably isn't an emergency.

Ada's First Swear Word

Two is a little young to start swearing, I agree. I'm guilty of swearing more than my fair share. I've never really seen what the big deal is about it. It's just another form of expression. Sometimes I agree that intelligent people don't need to swear since they can express themselves without the need for curse words. Sometimes I say screw that theory because I'm too mad to be smart and need to express myself anyway. So there.

Now I'm trying to really be better about it since I have a mini parrot shadowing me and mimicking my every word. (I secretly think I'm addicted to swearing since I've been trying to quit for several years now and it isn't working, really, not at all.)

It's neat when Ada all of a sudden says something like "outside" after I say "let's go outside". It's not so neat when we are at Granny's house waiting to put up her tree when Ada drops something in the kitchen and says "Oh, shit!" clear as day. Now I must admit, I don't think she learned that one from me. I'm a fan of the more severe swear words and "Oh, shit!" just isn't common in my vocabulary. Grandma DD on the other hand... well, that's really the only swear word she uses and it typically surfaces when she's just burned whatever it is she's cooking (which can be frequent) but she's "a lady" as they say and rarely drops the F-bomb or any other swear bombs for that matter. Something I can aspire to... someday.

To avoid a repeat performance at upcoming family holiday dinners, I've been saying "Oops!", "Uh-oh", and variations on that theme as much as possible, even when not really necessary. And I find myself using more "this F-ing stinks", and "SH--scheiße, damn, it still counts if it's in German, Shoot! I mean, darn!"

Dag nab it!

We'll see how this goes but don't set your expectations to high. I have a long road ahead of me.

Moral of the story: Swearing around children is bad. Fixing that bad habit is worse. Good luck with that.

Christmas Tree Hunting

A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go, high ho a dairy o, a hunting we will go.

This year was the last year for Sinissippi Farm in Oregon, IL to be open for Christmas Tree hunting. The owners are retiring and their kids all have "real jobs" so, at this time, it's over. We had insider knowledge of the closing so my sister-in-law flew in for one last hunt with the family.

All of these people went to get one, yes only one, Christmas Tree.

The day started with the drive to Oregon, which is about 40 minutes or so. Or it really started with layers of socks and long underwear for me but let's not think about the cold.

We arrived and cuddled up to the fireplace in the gift shop. Once everyone else got in it was time to begin the hunt. Here's Ada getting her gloves secured for the hunt. Rick's parents bought their tree tag and we headed out toward the tree rows. Then we noticed the horse drawn wagons and we were just going to pet the horses when all of a sudden, the next thing you know, we're all on the wagon going for a ride and being delivered at the white pine tree section.

We unloaded from the wagon and began critiquing nature's work in search of the "perfect" tree. After much searching, debating, and judging, we finally selected a tree that was just right. The boys were getting ready to saw it down when Aunt Terri said "Where's Aunt Connie?" "We must have left her back at the gift shop."

Oops! As it turns out, Aunt Connie was going to do some shopping in the gift shop and catch up with us amongst the trees when she was done. Unbeknownst to her, we were on the other side of the river looking at trees since that's where the horses dropped us off.

Out come all of the cell phones with their various carriers and, of course, only one has service but that person doesn't have Connie's number so they enter Connie's number and try to call her and, of course, she doesn't answer. (Come to find out later that she didn't recognized the 312 number so she didn't answer it. Silly Aunt Connie!)

Meanwhile, I'm flagging down the horse carriage as it approaches to ask the passengers to watch for Aunt Connie when they get back to the main tree shaking area and let her know where we are. I give a brief description of her and they say "we'll try." "Thanks!" is my reply.

The guys are now cutting down the tree. Heather and Grandma Ba head back to the tree lodge on foot to find Aunt Connie. And the rest of us wait for the tree march where we all follow it back to the lodge.

While we were marching back with the tree, it turns out that Heather and Grandma Ba had been picked up by the horse carriage and were headed back to the lodge when Heather spotted Aunt Connie, lost among the trees. She says, "Hey, there's Aunt Connie!" and the driver says "Where?" Heather points her out and the driver yells "Hey Aunt Connie! They're over here!" to the ensuing laughter of the entire carriage of tree hunters. All was well with the world again.

Once we got back to the gift shop/tree lodge, the tree was put in line to be shaken and the rest of us headed in for homemade cider donuts, hot apple cider and coco, and a little someone had her first meeting with Santa. And since she's such a social little gal, she thought he was pretty cool and was just a little confused by his big beard.

Moral of the story: Family traditions make some of the best memories. Be sure to create fun traditions of your own to make the Holidays more than just a commercialized, materialistic frenzy.

Save a lock of hair...

This is a weird tradition to me. I don't know why people save a lock of hair from their children. Maybe for DNA testing for some shady unforeseen circumstance these days but where did it stem from? Why does my mom have some of my hair tucked into a little box somewhere in her dresser drawer? And why has she kept if for 30 years? And what the heck am I supposed to do with it?

My Aunt Lin gave me a little container for Ada's first tooth and a lock of hair. Another Mom I know insisted on me saving one of Ada's locks. Since I had the box and strong peer pressure from older, wiser mothers, I did it. I cut a lock of Ada's hair and shoved it into the little box and it sprayed all over the place as I jammed it in -- how long is a lock supposed to be anyway? What is a lock? This is so beyond my basic mom knowledge and instincts. Do they do this for little boys too or is that unmanly? Is Tony Romo's lock of hair in his mom's underwear drawer? I find that to be a little weird.

I will say, now that I have the lock safely tucked away, that I should have put more thought into this than just making it an item on my checklist to do and check off. You see, I just grabbed the scissors, went up to Ada, trimmed a chunk out of the back of her head and shoved it into the box. It was too long to fit in the box. I likely trimmed off too much. And I took it from the top layer, back right side of her head about halfway down. It didn't dawn on me until after I cut it that maybe I should have taken it from a less conspicuous location-- like from the bottom layer near her neck or somewhere in the middle in case she wears a ponytail anytime soon. Not that she lets me do anything with her hair anyway...

So it's done. It's officially off the list --but mainly so I can answer "yes" when accosted by moms demanding to know if I've saved a lock of her hair. I think it puts me into the "your a good mom" category in their heads for some reason and it seems like a small price to pay for entry into that club. And, some days, I need all of the help I can get.

Moral of the story: Save a lock of your child's hair, or lie and pretend that you did, no one will really know the difference since no one ever checks -- just take it from an inconspicuous location when you do.

Red, Blue, Green, Purple

Rick noticed a few weeks ago that the dome light in our CRV wasn't working. We stopped in to the auto store for a replacement. Almost $11 later, we purchased one that fits our car. Great. Check that off the list, right?

Not so fast.

In the parking lot, we install the new light and it is red. I look at Rick, who is by now looking at me as well, and I say "Why did you get a red one? How dumb is that?"

To which he replies, "I thought it was white. The package says something about 7 colors and has a red stripe at the bottom."

"Well what the heck does that mean?" We look at each other, way beyond confused.

Then we look back at the dome light. It's now blue. Now it's green. Purple. Teal. Eventually it glows white and then back to red. Somehow there are 7 colors in all, I guess.

We just looked at each other and laughed hysterically. At first, I was annoyed at having paid almost $11 for this tiny lightbulb that wasn't what we wanted and doesn't shed a whole lot of light on the interior of the car. That all changed once we put Ada in the car for the first time.

As Rick was buckling her into the car seat, directly in line with the dome light, she started squealing with delight. Who knew that a little light bulb changing colors could summon so many joyous noises from one little girl! The oohs, and ahhs, and eekkks elicit laughter from us every time we get in the car now. My hope is that our "investment" will help her learn the names of her colors more easily. Right now she says something like "Boo" which you'd think was "blue" but she says it when the light is red. So we're working on it.

And as an added benefit, we just turn the dome light to "on" whenever she's having a bad moment in the car and she's distracted for a few minutes, which is typically all the time we need to locate her crackers or a blanket or the toy that rolled under the seat in front of her.

Amazing what a little light bulb can do.

Moral of the story: Sometimes screwing up can turn out to brighten your life, in more ways than one, for years to come.

My Friday Before Dinner

It's Friday. I've invited my college buddies over for dinner and what started out as just us and my friend Bob for dinner, turned into us three, Bob, Vern, Cara, Alex, Kim, Ted, Alison and Will. Sweet. We tend to have trouble finding time when we can all get together and this impromptu thing ended up working out really well.

Knowing that I can't cook, I arranged to order pizza and have it arrive about 6:45. Everyone planned to arrive around 6:30 or 7 and that seemed like as good a plan as any. We've learned from past dinners that if we don't pre-order, we starve while waiting for the food and then don't have time to play a game afterward, which is really what this is all about. Having fun with old friends, and playing games.

I had a few errands to run before picking Ada up so I left work at 4:30. I went to the ATM, then went to a different bank to make a deposit for the condo association. I have two letters in my hand that I need to mail. Previously, when making the condo association bank deposit, I though I had inadvertently put the envelope I keep the ATM card in, into the mail drop box with a bill I was mailing then. That resulted in me being distracted and telling the story about just how I'd lost the card when Ada fell down the back porch stairs. Yikes. Don't want a repeat of that. (It turns out that the ATM card was in an envelope on the kitchen counter the whole time.)

This time, I again have letters to mail so I crossed the street to deposit two bills into a postal drop box and re-crossed the street to be on the south side for the entry to the El train home. As I'm waiting for the light, it dawns on me that I can't remember where I put the ATM card. The light turns in my favor and I cross the street while quickly, not frantically but concernedly, digging in my purse for the ATM card envelope. I know it's there. I just can't find it under all of the crap I have. Why do I have a sippy cup, a diaper, wipes, and goldfish snacks in here? How the heck am I supposed to find...SMACK!

Oh no I didn't. Oh yes you did.

While intensely focusing on the contents of my purse, I continued to walk toward the El station and completely lost all awareness of my surroundings and walked straight into...wait for it...A BUS SHELTER. Thunk. My calf, knee and head all connected with the advertising side of the small structure.

"Oh My God. I did not just do that", I think.

"Oh yes I did." I start laughing uncontrollably. Then I realize, "What if there is someone waiting for a bus? They must think I'm an idiot."

I peer around the corner of the shelter. Yep. Hi there. In my head I'm saying, "That was me who just walked into the side of this place. Sorry about that. Hope I didn't startle you but damn, that's funny." In reality, I shot her a quick glance with the biggest smile on my face and quickly continued on my way down the street. Laughing to myself and at myself the whole way to the El train. Then I laughed even more as I sent my friend Colette a text retelling the event.

But that's not all.

I got Ada, got home and all but forgot about the previous "incident", putting it in my back pocket for a funny story later on. It was time I focus on cleaning up the last bits of things that are out of place and feeding Ada before everyone starts to arrive.

All is going well. I've done the dishes and she helped me put them away - which I encouraged as I quickly grabbed each glass plate and dish she handed to me from the bottom rack of the dishwasher. Boy was that nerve-wracking but she insisted on helping.

Ada is eating. I'm settled in to watch some Grey's Anatomy on ABC.com (since we don't have cable). I've supplied Ada with a gourmet dinner of bagel, goldfish crackers, graham crackers, turkey, and apple sauce. And I've just dumped out our old milk and given her a full cup of milk that tasted okay to me but is on it's last day as well. Why does our milk seem to go bad so quickly these days? I text Rick to have him pick up new milk since our friend Bob is coming over and that man drinks more milk than anyone I've ever seen in my entire life. Multiple gallons in a week. He could have been a dairy cow in another life.

All is well in the world. Rick comes home and greets us. He removes his winter coat (yes, I know it's early October!) and settles in next to us to see what is going on. I have two minutes left on Grey's Anatomy and friends will be arriving anytime now. Ada's finishing up dinner and... then... it starts. As we are sitting around all content with the world, Ada starts throwing up her entire dinner. At first, we think she's just choking on something and is going to spit it out. Then it keeps coming up, and up, and up. She has expelled everything in her stomach. All over herself, the highchair, the floor. Everywhere.

"It must have been the milk. I didn't think it was 'bad' but it clearly wasn't 'good'. Let's clean her up." I mutter as I take her to the bathroom while holding her at arms length, hoping to stay clean.

She is, by this time, hysterical. Screaming. Not quite sure what the heck is going on or why she has her dinner all over her body. I've got her in the tub and she won't let me take her vomit covered shirt off. I'm tugging, she's resisting. Finally I win and get her naked. I turn on the shower and start to spray her down. She's still hysterical.

"Screw it." I think to myself as she reaches out to me, wet, naked, and covered in her regurgitated dinner. She crawls out of the tub and into my fully-clothed, dry clothes and clean arms and cries. I get her to calm down a bit and then decide to join her in the shower to comfort her and get her cleaned up. So what if I have 8 people coming over for dinner in just a matter of minutes. They are such good friends, I practically consider them family.

I'm in the shower with her when I hear the first door buzzer. At least Rick's home to let people in. I'm shampooing her hair for the second buzz. We are rinsing off for the third tone. And we are standing naked, dripping wet and trying to towel off when the pizza arrives. Thankfully I set out money for the pizza guy ahead of time and Bob took care of it all. My kind of house guests.

I passed Ada out to Rick so he could get her dressed again. Then I quickly shuffle around the hall corner to my bedroom to get decent. A quick glance in the mirror reveals that my mascara has run, but overall my makeup is salvageable and my hair isn't too wet. Five minutes and a whole new outfit later, I'm dishing up pizza and enjoying friends.

About an hour later, I remember that good old bus shelter incident and decide it's a great time to share one of my most "blonde" moments ever as tears of laughter gush from my eyes.

Good times had by all.

Moral of the story: The best friends are those that can help themselves and love you just the way you are. And those that laugh with you instead of at you. Just keep laughing at yourself.

Parenting rule to live by: When in doubt, throw it out.

The Dentist aka The Longest Day Ever

Today it was time to take Ada on a little adventure to the dentist's office. My doctoress said it was time to get her teeth checked since she is almost two years old. I personally thought that was a little early since she only has eight teeth and nothing seems out of the ordinary. As it turns out, that's what my Dentist thought too -- it's a bit early. They did, however, encourage me to bring Ada with me to my cleaning which just so happened to be due.

I'm not sure why, but it seems like the majority of people I know dislike going to the dentist. I really don't know what that's all about since I really enjoy dental visits. You might assume from that statement that I was born with perfect teeth. In reality, I had two years of braces, a palate expander to make my mouth wider, and have had about 10 teeth extracted, and at least 6 cavities that I can remember (four of which I blame on my summer in France and the lack of fluoride in the water). The dentists in my life have inflicted a good deal of pain on me, but they have also improved my smile and gave me the confidence to laugh without covering my mouth.

My parents and I have invested a lot into this smile (Thanks Mom and Dad!) and I'm not going to mess that up with shoddy maintenance. I plan to instill the fear of rotten pirate teeth in Ada, as a strong incentive for daily brushing and flossing (although black-encrusted teeth would come in handy at Halloween parties someday, I guess). She's already great with a toothbrush and I plan to encourage that skill as much as I can -- after all, by the time she's in high school I know braces will cost the same as a second home so I'm hoping she gets Rick's (far superior and straight) dental genes.

So today, we went to the dentist. And I will say it was quite the adventure.

It all started with me planning how to get downtown. My dentist is in the building south of Macy's in the loop and from our place, it's a hike. Driving is tough unless you want to pay $25+ to park, or maybe $8-$12 for two hours if you are lucky enough to find a meter space, or $18ish if you park a few blocks southwest and hike in, or I could pay $4 for two hours if I parked near my office and then took the train in for another $4.50 round trip, or I could just take the train...but what if the elevators aren't working? Then I'll get stranded with Ada and the stroller and who needs that drama? The bus takes forever and is still $2 each way. I think Ada is free since she's under 2 but I don't know what the cutoff age is for when they start charging. And on top of everything else, I really need to return sweaters I bought at Target that Rick says are too big and I need to drop by a bunch of work papers to his office that he brought home last week when Ada was sick to work on from home. Gesh. What to do...?

As it turns out, we are also kitty sitting for our friends that just got married and live on the south side. They were nice enough to give me parking passes for their neighborhood so I could park while Ada goes to "play" with the kitties. I say that because they don't really like her but I feel it's important for them to know people still exist in their life, so we stop by to check on them. Brilliant me got the idea to drive down to their house, stop at their local target on Roosevelt, park, and then stroll Ada downtown for the appointment, then back to the car, up to Rick's office for the drop off of work stuff and then home. Easy right? Never.

We start off at 10:30. My appointment is at 11:30. It's 15 minutes to Aaron and Cassie's. No problem. No time for Target so that gets stricken from the schedule and moved to the "maybe later" list.

As I lock the front door, I realize I forgot the Target returns inside. Open the door, grab the bag, re-lock, and begin to herd Ada, the stroller, the Target bag, the diaper bag and my purse through vestibule door number one, down the stairs, to vestibule door number two, down the last few steps and out to the sidewalk. All's well so far. Down the street to the car. Get Ada loaded. Loading everything else into the trunk -- thankfully we are parked far enough away from the car behind us so that I can swing open the door to the CRV and get everything in, and Rick pre-loaded his work crap saving me two more trips. I go to collapse the BOB stroller and ... nothing. Not gonna do it. The darn thing won't collapse. After five tries, I give up and lift the whole thing into the car. It's bent over but not collapsed and, amazingly, it fits. Thank God for the CRV. Let's roll.

(Little voice in my head --Damn, that reminds me I never pushed in the mirror that sticks out into the street when I parked last-- hope it's still attached next time I go out...we'll see...)

Once in the car I call Rick to complain about the stroller. His reply is something like "You just have to pull up really hard."

To which I respond, "Um. No. I tried that. I know how it works and something is stuck. I'm not patient but I'm also not a moron. Whatever. It's in the car." We're on our way. Yippee! 45 minutes should be just right.

We get to Aaron and Cassie's and park nearby on 14th street. I get out and unlock Ada so she can start getting out of the car. I go to get the stroller out and set it up. Then I convert my purse contents to the diaper bag so I have a lighter load for the trek ahead of us. Ada's got a balloon in the car from my brother's baby shower and, of course, it blows out the back door so I have to run down the street chasing it, like a complete dork, as I worry that Ada will somehow jump out of the car and get hit by oncoming traffic all for a silly yellow balloon with only enough helium to hover a few feet from the ground. I catch the balloon, put it in the front seat, much to her disappointment, get Ada out of the car and loaded into the stroller. She's mad. She doesn't want to be in the stroller. She wants to walk of course. She walks for a block, as I continually hurry her, and then gives in to the stroller. Finally. Now we're moving. We go about four blocks to Roosevelt road and see a movie being filmed. That's fun. We'll check it out on the way back. 25 minutes of walking lapses. We are now downtown and getting all sorts of smiles. There aren't a lot of strollers in the loop and Ada's a ham so she tends to attract attention.

We get to the building and push the handicap button for the door. I am again reminded of how thankful I am that I'm fully abled and remind myself to go out of my way to help the disabled any chance I get since life is so much harder when you can't use revolving doors or even just open them yourself.

Up the elevator and into the dentist's office. All of the ladies there just ogle over Ada. We go in for my exam and she is an angel. Perfect in every way. Completely enamored by the process. Not afraid at all. Wants to sit on my stomach to get a closer look. Practically crawls into my mouth at one point. Adorable. She got her own toothbrush and a toy for being so good. I was shocked.

Then it was time to check out and leave. She got to go behind the scenes at reception and play with a Highlighter--which we still have because she threw a tantrum when it was time to leave and Rick has an appointment Thursday so he can return it--and the ladies again loved her. Then it was time to leave and she was having nothing of it. A few tears and screams later, we were on our way down in the elevator. All was back to being well with the world (and Ada had a death grip on that yellow Highlighter). We called Rick for lunch and agreed to meet at Macy's food court.

La la la... we get to Macy's and have to go to the second entrance on Wabash because that's where they have the handicap accessible entrance. Yippee. We find the entrance and push the button... and of course, it's broken. So a fine gentleman coming out holds the door open for me and we open the inner door ourselves. We get into the store and immediately I look lost, because I am, and two gentlemen installing sale signs explain that there are two food courts at Macy's, one on seven and one on the lower level. I pick the lower level and text Rick to meet us there. Of course, he arrives and wants to go to the one on seven. We're off to ask for more directions to get to the express elevator to seven--we don't have all day here okay? The guy at the Frango mints table is very helpful and we quickly find the express to seven.

At seven, we notice that it's a zoo. We decide to get burgers because they are the most un-friendly Ada-thing to eat in this whole place (or really that's just where Rick chooses since the line is shortest.) Ada meanwhile just wants to run free and gawk at the fellow lunch patrons. Rick's ordering. I'm chasing Ada. Chaos. I finally catch her and go to see our status on food. I thought we had to get into this other really long line and wait for our food. In asking this question, I pinch Rick inadvertently when trying to tug his jacket on the backside of his bicep. That didn't feel good and he's a little bent out of shape. I soon learn that we don't have to get into the long line because that is for Frontera Grill. My bad Rick Bayless.

Rick takes Ada and goes to find a table. That leaves me with the stroller and a tray with a pint glass filled with coke, another glass containing a chocolate shake, and now two burgers. The guy hands them to me and asks if I need help getting to my seat. Of course I do but I say somehow I'll manage or make two trips. I then proceed to balance the tray of food on the handlebars of the stroller and make my way to our table. Once there, I, fittingly, run over Rick's foot with the stroller and nearly drop everything. Thankfully, nothing spills but he shoots me another dirty look to which I quickly reply "I am not out to get you. The pinch and the stroller were both accidents. I'm just trying to sit down to eat for Pete's sake." To which he smiles the shared "parenting can be rough sometimes" smile and we're back to being all good and happily married again.

Then Ada goes into nightmare mode. She won't sit still, only wants the chocolate shake (I taught her well), and won't eat anything else. After a few minutes of this, I give up. I tried to let her run, and even went up to eight and back down on the escalator. We did a lap around the food court and I finally kissed Rick goodbye (after eat my fries and most of my spicy -read: crappy- turkey burger), loaded the stroller and set off for the car. We got all the way back to the exit on the first floor when I realized I had to make a pit stop, and Ada needed a diaper change. Back to search for the elevators.

The sign said handicap accessible restrooms were on every floor but the one we were on. We go up to 2, even though I meant to hit LL. We get off long enough for me to see it's the men's floor and I'm back on the elevator down to the Lower Level. I ask a MAC makeup artist for directions to the restroom and we head that way. Once inside the four bays of bathroom stalls, I scope the place out in search of the one handicap stall that will fit me and Ada and the stroller. Too bad it's impossible to get to without closing three stall doors on the way. Thank God again that I'm not trying to do this in a wheelchair or I would have screamed and starting throwing things at this point. After that, we wash our hands and I load Ada up on the Koala Bear changing table.

Once she's changed and we've washed up, I think it's finally time to trek back to the car. That is, until we pass the smoothie stand. We HAVE to stop for a smoothie. Ada didn't eat much and my lunch wasn't that great. So we get a berry smoothie. She drinks a quarter of it before we even get out of the store (again through the broken handicap doors.)

About a third of the way to the car, Ada finishes the smoothie. I had, maybe, 25% of it. And that's being generous. It was a pretty large drink mind you. Can't wait to change that diaper. Yikes. Once the smoothie is done, we look to recycle it and I'm again reminded of how much I hate our city's lack of recycling receptacles downtown. Pretty sad for as "Green" as we claim to be. We go a few more blocks and Ada starts fussing, again. I let her out to walk. But she doesn't want that. I giver her a toy. Nope. Still not happy. After a block I just shove her back into the stroller and keep going. So what if people stare at me for being a bad mom and not catering to her needs. There is nothing I can do for her until we get to the car, so deal with it.

We are finally just a few blocks from the car and a crowd has formed. Oh yeah, they are filming a movie down here today. So we stop to gawk and see what's going on. It's clear that they are filming and someone famous is down there but what, and who? Being the friendly person that I am, I ask a few guys standing nearby. "Do you know what movie this is?" "Little Fockers. The 3rd in the Meet the Parents series." Oh yeah. That must be... Robert De Niro over there filming. Neat. We stay for about five minutes and then we head back to the car. I jam everything back in and we're off to Rick's office for the big drop off of work stuff.

It only takes about five minutes to get to Rick's office since we are driving and driving is SO much faster than walking. I call Rick to come down and meet me (thank goodness for cell phones even though I frequently curse them). As he approaches the car I wave all kids of mom-dad sign language to let him know to be VERY VERY quiet (I'm not hunting wabbit...) because Ada is sleeping in her car seat already. He silently removes the stroller, all of his stuff, puts the stroller back and shuts the door. Then he comes around to my side for a quick peck goodbye and a "see ya later." It's finally time to head home.

What feels like a gazillion years later, we are back home with clean teeth, a borrowed Highlighter, new toothbrushes and toothpaste, bellies full of yummy smoothie -- Ada's more so than mine-- and she's had a mini nap. All is back to being well with the world.

Moral of the story: When you live in the city and have a toddler, even the smallest errand can become a full-blown adventure. Follow the girl scouts' and boy scouts' advice: Be Prepared.

PS - Rick walked in to the dentist's office that Thursday morning, pulled out the Highlighter and the whole office erupted in laughter. They knew exactly what it was and why he was returning it, much to his surprise.

Rick? Where's Ada?

This past weekend we were packing to go to Sycamore for a few days of family fun, football games, fantasy drafts, and food. Actually, Rick was packing and I was trying to get in another four hours of work before we left.

Once my four hours was up and I'd finished what I was doing, I asked, "Rick, where's Ada?"
"She's in our room on the bed." he replied nonchalantly.
"How long has she been in there alone?" I question as I start walking toward our bedroom.
"I donno. Awhile I guess."
I walk though our doorway and there she is, happy as a clam and smelling to high heaven of Calvin Kline cologne.
"Ricky, you've got to come see this."
Ada's sitting in the middle of our bed, gnawing on the exposed tube that peaks out of the top of the cologne bottle and typically sits under the spray cap. She's removed the lid and the spray cap, they lay discarded on the bed, and she is having a grand old time chewing on that little tube.
"She must be teething."
"At least she didn't swallow the cap or drink the cologne."
"Boy does she ever smell."
"Yeah."
"How about you not leave her alone like this again, okay."
"It was just a few minutes."
"My point exactly."

Moral of the story: What kids can get into, they will get into.

TGIF

so far today... Ada knocked over the water cup next to my bed. She woke up at 6 and I brought her into our room to encourage her to sleep. Instead, she decided to jump on us and play with things on the dresser that she's not allowed to, including said large water cup. Just as my mom was coming in to rescue us (she's watching Ada today), Ada knocked my water off the dresser and soaked the pillows, bed and everything beyond. Poor sleep deprived Rick had to pull the bed out, clean up all the water, kill all the monster dust bunnies, and then take the bed apart and put it all back together again. How's that for a 6 am wake-up call?

Then as Rick and I were talking and getting lunches packed, he knocked over my mom's tea on the kitchen counter.

And in true Amanda fashion, I just punched my water glass at work while putting on my sweater (yes, my soccer mom white sweater because it's cold in my office even if it is 80 degrees and sunny outside. Damn Air Conditioning!) and soaked my desk, post-it notes, and a roll of drawings. Oops.

That's what I call a family tri-fecta. First Ada, then Daddy, then me. Woo-hoo-ie!

At least a few things got cleaned in the process... now if only I could get back that missing hour of sleep...

Don't worry, they're all natural

This past weekend, my beautiful friend Lisa invited my family to dinner for some of her fabulous home cooking. As Lisa was sprinkling her magic fairy dust in the kitchen, Ada was having fun tormenting Lisa's bulldog, Monty, since he gets so excited to see her he just wants to plow her over. She's big, but he's bigger--by about 20 lbs and I think she's 6 or 8 months older. Funny how dogs and kids grow so fast, until you compare them and then the dogs win.

We let them play together through the baby gate and then moved Monty to his crate for some quiet time. All was going just great and it was time for Monty to get a treat, and of course, what could be more fun than for Ada to give it to him?

Unfortunately, Ada doesn't really get the whole idea of giving treats to a dog since we don't have one and she isn't around my parents dogs all that often. As soon as Lisa said "Here Ada, give Monty a treat." I knew the treat wasn't going to make it to Monty. I just knew it.

Sure enough, Lisa broke it in two. Gave half to Monty and half to Ada to give to Monty...except Ada didn't want to give it to Monty. It was dinnertime and she was hungry and wanted to know what kind of treats Monty gets.

In it went. Chomp chomp. Wrinkled funny face. Chomp chomp. More funny faces and gulp. Down the hatch. She ate the other half of Monty's treat while he watched in horror.

Rick was laughing so hard his face was turning all shades of red. I was just shocked that I saw the whole thing coming in slow motion.

Then Lisa pipes up, "Don't worry, they're all natural."

Luckily, Lisa's a five star mom to Monty and gets him only the best--all natural dog treats with oatmeal, cranberry and turkey--no additives, no msg, no transfats, no preservatives. Not necessarily a combo I've tried with Ada yet but she didn't seem to mind. Maybe I should add that to the menu...

Moral of the story: I guess this gives us something to work on before we go back over to Lisa's next. It's good to have goals in life. Getting Ada not to eat Monty's treats can surely be added to our list.

Holy crap!

I haven't posted bloopers in awhile so here's one for you...

Yesterday, Ada was walking through the kitchen and headed toward the refrigerator when all of us sudden, PLOP, a brown nugget appeared on the kitchen floor tile.

I look at Rick.

Rick looks at me.

"Where did that come from?"

"Is it poop?"

"Sure looks like it."

"How'd that happen? She's wearing a diaper and a skirt?"

"Well, it appears that she's in a disposable and her diaper has shifted up her butt crack."

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

"That's gross. I'll go check the rest of the house. You go fix that."

"Okay."

Yep. That's a night at our house these days. Fun huh. Birth control for another 5 years for those of you who just aren't that ready for kids.

A Wet, Bump-filled Day

It all started with a crappy night's sleep due to rolling thunderstorms all night long. Then it progressed into a nasty wet morning filled with storms stretching to Elgin. And now, it's just one giant, humid, armpit of a day.

Our neighbors next door, who happen to be some of the greatest people on the planet, are moving. I'm crushed of course because they are the one's with baby Eva who is 10 days younger than Ada. We've shared a lot of stories and tears and frustrations over this past year and a half. Colette has saved my butt more times than I can count by relieving a sick nanny or filing in the gaps when a sitter had to leave or didn't show. She's been my go-to momma and should seriously be considered for momma sainthood. Tomorrow is the big day. They are loading up the truck and moving to Seattle. Not like that's far. Just HALF WAY ACROSS THE FRIGGING COUNTRY. But at least now I suspect I'll get to see Seattle. Or somewhere else fun when they potentially move again in 2 years for her husband Rob's Super Fellowship. Silly Doctors. Have to go and do all that learning and stuff.

So today started similar to yesterday... with me desperately trying to figure out what I can do to help them out before they move so I can dig myself out of good-neighbor debt. Yesterday I got to return library books for her (easy since I had books to check out) and today I went to the bank to get cash and quarters(for us both) while she went to target to get diapers and wipes (for us both).

We started with a cash and check swap at the back door which turned into the first bump of the day-- and the worst in my opinion. As I was carrying Ada back inside from our back porch, I misjudged the step at the threshold and wiped out. I dropped Ada -- luckily it wasn't until we were only a foot from the floor that I let her go and she's used to falling-- and I took the brunt of it. Youch. I was trying to quick, run inside, grab my shoes so I could open and close the gate for Colette to get her car out of the back lot. Instead, I ended up falling through the back door, landing on my left hip/thigh and smashing the heck out of my left foot. I have a HUGE bruise on my hip now -- even after icing it for a half hour. It hasn't even started to turn purple yet because it is so deep. Yep. I'm in pain. And then there is my foot, which doesn't seem to be broken but is really made at me for being a clumsy idiot.

So I'm in pain, Ada's screaming, Colette's in the back parking lot loading Eva into the car and not sure what's going on up on my porch. I hobble outside with Ada --mostly so she'll stop crying as she loves to be outside -- and end up sitting on my new glidder on the porch and kicking up my foot to give it a rest. Colette's laughing at me (in a kind way) and taking photos with her camera phone. I didn't feel so bad not opening the gate for her since she got some form of amusement out of my pain. Now that I'm typing, I remember that I landed on my wrist too. That smarts.
Colette leaves, doing the gate by herself, and I round Ada up to get dressed and ready to venture out into the black sky crazy storm. Am I nuts?

Yesterday's task was a piece of cake. Today's, not so much. You see, even with my umbrella, rain coat, and golashes, I was no match for today's storm. We considered walking to the bank and then I realized just how dumb I was being and opted for the car. We got outside, got drenched, and of course, I had to re-adjust the straps to the car seat as my lower half is hanging outside the car, partially under the umbrella, in the biggest downpour of the year. We finally get settled and I drove to the grocery store down the street for bananas and stamps. We got wet going into the store, and even more wet getting out of the store.

Soaked, we drove to the bank. Got a loading zone parking spot. Unloaded in a major downpour and hustled into the bank. Got our cash and coins, made deposits. All of this while holding Ada because she wasn't in the mood to be down. Of course. How else do you make a hot, humid, and wet day worse? Run errands carrying a 30 lb child everywhere you go. It's fun. Really!

We step out of the bank and it is only drizzling now. We get to the car and Ada tries to run down the street. I grab her, pull her back to the car and stand her a bit too close to the door. As I click the unlock button and open the door, guess who gets bonked in the head with the car door and goes down like a rock into a standing puddle under her butt? Yep. Ada! Bump #2 of the day. Screaming, wet, into the car seat she goes. Lunch and naptime are fast approaching and she's communicating that very clearly. And by the time we got home, it was raining cats and dogs all over again. And BIG cats and dogs-- like Lions and German Shepards-- this time.

Finally we're home. We strip down, dry off and start over. Grab some lunch. Then she's due for a nap.

We rounded out the day with a packing party at Colette's with 2 other neighborhood moms and kiddos, and a few more bumps on Ada's body as she bounced off the packing boxes and fought over stuffed bunnies.

Let's just say, as much as I don't want tomorrow to come as it means Colette is really moving, I'm so happy to be done with today.

Moral of the story: If it's raining, roll over, have a nap party until the sun comes out and call it a day.

The scream heard 'round Ada's room

She got me.

In a moment of weakness, she caught me off guard and I'll admit it, I screamed.

I gave Ada a bath --she smelled like sunblock.

Got her to her room for a new diaper --she bit me in the side just under my rib along the way.

While getting her diaper ready, distracted by the new teethmarks in my side--she pooped on the letter H. A regular, mini-sized, grown up turd. On the floor. In plain view.

Scared the bejesus out of me.

Then I laughed while cleaning it up and cursing her mildly under my breath.

Moral of the story: Yeah. Good luck with that one.

Little crap!

What a day.

So far, Ada didn't get up until 9:30. Nice.
Ate breakfast - made a mess. Got a shower. Okay.
Did laundry, played with the laundry machine buttons. Fun. Beep Beep Beep.
Put clothes away. Realized Nemo wall stickers are more than one parent can install alone. Fine.

Then came the poopy diaper. "Poop. Poop." I think she learned a new word. Yeah.
Got the diaper off and in the blink of an eye, Ada has taken off running all over her room.
"Get back here or you'll get poop on your dress!" "Ada, come to momma." "Ada." Slightly escalated as she starts grinning... "Ada, get over here now, please." I coerce her over with a stuffed animal. Why is she all wet? Damn it Ada. She peed on the floor. I wipe. She takes off. I catch her again. Ug. Her feet are wet. There are pee prints all over the floor. Damn. Damn. Damn. I wipe her feet, legs, hands, butt. She takes off again. I grab her again, wrestle her into the new diaper. Throw the wipes away. Garbage is filling up. Better take that with me too. Yuck. My feet are wet. Set the diaper and garbage down. Grab 2 wipes and attack my feet, the floor and all surrounding areas while keeping her from running through the pee again. Grab the garbage and the diaper again. Drop the garbage in the kitchen. Once in the bathroom, dump the diaper in the diaper pail. "shit." That's a poopy diaper. I have to rinse it first. Grab it out of the diaper pail. Poop falls like big glob of cookie dough onto, yep, the yellow bathmat that is a pain-in-the-rear to clean because it has a rubber back and we have to put it through the wash machine downstairs so as not to ruin our new fancy dancy expensive machine and then it unbalances and so we have to throw it in with other stuff and basically this means it will just sit by the back door for a month or two. Great. And we just got it back into the bathroom 2 weeks ago maybe. Ug. I grab some TP, scoop the poop into the toilet. "Damn." The diaper is still in the toilet. Now I have to shake out the diaper without dissipating the poop lump. Tricky. Flush. Ring it out. Put it in the pail. Scrub hands, arms, under fingernails.

Thanks Ada. She's playing on the still clean part of the yellow bathmat with a comb. Nice.

And it just turned noon.

She's currently next to me with a face full of pasta sauce and hair that has a reddish tint from the tomatoes. Time for a quick wipe down and a nap. Thank God for naps.

I can't skip yoga today. I need some peace and calm. Gesh, Kids! Any tricks for washing bathmats? I'm sending Rick out to buy a new one today.

Talk about embarrassing...

In an effort to stay social and cool, we try to go to brunch with our friends Aaron and Cassie about once a month. To their shock and horror, they got way more than they bargained for this month. Ada started out showing how she can walk. She was really good during the meal. She ate a ton of blueberry pancakes and all was well in the world until this moment...

Then it was just time to leave.

Ada gets kissed... and what's parent protocol?

Saturday was a beautiful day here in the city. After Ada took a nice afternoon nap (thank goodness she's back on a napping schedule! Yippee!) we headed out to the park for some fun on the baby swing--and an attempt at the slide.

I'm not sure what parks look like in Suburban areas but parks in the city on a nice day are hopping. There must have been 10 kids at this park when we arrive, and either one or both of their parents accompanied them. Then 20 more kids came and went during our visit. It was neat to see the variety of parents in the neighborhood. How different their kids are in age--or really, how close they all seemed to be to Ada's age. However, even though the kids are all similar ages, the parents seem to range from about 27-45. I thought one of the woman might have been a nanny which I thought odd on a Saturday. And one woman appeared to be some one's crazy Aunt as she was having way too much fun--which I know isn't really even possible but she was more excited to be at the park than anyone I've ever seen. She arrived right as we were leaving but it was still interesting.

So here we are in the park. Rick, Ada and I and about 20 other people we don't know. Ada's enjoying the swing, then we move to the little slide. She spun around while going down and almost knocked her head on the side so we moved to the big slide in order to ride with her. That makes sense right? Advance the danger level so we can protect her? Rick went first. This is an older model slide. All metal. Has a metal dome over the top to keep kids from falling over the edge. Rick put Ada on his lap, hunched over so he'd clear the ceiling of the dome, and came shooting out of the slide at top speed. It was about 15 feet high and it is angled funny at the bottom so that it throws you into the ground instead of boosting you into air for your landing. Luckily, Rick was quick enough to prevent a wipe out.

Then I went. A tight fit even for me, and a reminder that I am claustrophobic, we made it down the slide with a similar ending of me almost smashing into the ground at the end. Rick took another turn and then we were saved by our friend Sarah and her little boy Aaron. They distracted us so that Ada could eat some dirt and wood chips while climbing on the jungle gym. A few more parents arrived and the park got pretty full at this point. Aaron was playing ball with a little boy and then ran off to climb the steps to the slide. The little boy, just a few inches taller than Ada--maybe 2 years old, ran to his mom to get a hug and kiss. (We don't know this boy mind you.) Then he crawled down from her arms and ... what's that? He's headed toward Ada with puckered lips. Oh, this is kinda cute. Here it comes. Damn. Why don't I have the camera? Smooch! He gave her a big kiss on the face and then, because he didn't know his own strength, as he was hugging her, he accidentally pushed her over, which ended in Ada bumping her head on the side of the slide. She came up all screams. Mild, fake I'm-fine-but-I-want-some-attention-now-damn-it screams. Poor thing didn't even know what to do. But it was quite funny to see the little boy's parents reaction. They apologized for him knocking her over and went on to a different part of the park. We made light of it and kept playing. No big deal. Ada was fine and went right back to running around and eating dirt so we knew she wasn't hurt at all.

But this brought up the conversation between Rick and I on the walk home.

What is proper parent protocol when your toddlers are playing?
I try to be a very hands-off mom when Ada plays so that she can explore on her own and learn new things and be independent. And when she is fighting with another kid over a toy, chances are she didn't start it because she's very passive. But the other parents frequently jump in and say "Now Billy, that's not how we share. Ada had that first. Let her play with it and then you can have a turn when she's done." Is that how you get your kids to share? How much do they really understand at this age? And what do you do when your kid is the punk at playgroup who can't get along with other kids?

We also talked about how to react when Aaron took Ada's water and started drinking it. I know Ada isn't sick so I wasn't worried or bothered that he was drinking from it. I had another water bottle with me she could use anyway. But Rick said "He can have it. That's fine." And realized later that maybe he should have directed that comment to Sarah instead of to Aaron. As in, "Aaron, how about we ask your mom if you can have Ada's water. Sarah, it's fine with us if he has Ada's water. She isn't sick and we have more. But only if it is okay with you."

That just seems like a whole lot of work to me. Parents have to walk on eggshells all the time trying to teach their kids manners and not tick off the other parents in the park. Is there an easier way? Do parents get less involved once the kids get older?

I also saw a gentleman in the sandbox with his daughter. She picked up another girl's bucket and shovel and he said, "Can you ask her if you can use that?" His daughter didn't say anything but started rubbing her stomach in sign language to say "please" and the girl's parents said, "Oh, it's fine if she plays with that." Then he explained that it is important for him that she's asks to play with it and he encouraged his daughter to use her words since the other little girl might not know the sign for "please".

This parenting stuff is hard work! Who knew.

Eventually I hope to figure all of this out. Maybe I can sign up for a "Mommy's Park Etiquette" class to get on the fast track to being a proper parent. Until then, I'm just going to try to keep my kid from ticking off another kid or parent and do the best to teach her how to mind her manners. But I think I'm going to wait a few more months first. We're still working on saying "mommy" and "daddy" at this point, let alone "please", "thank you", and "may I play with that?"

Doink!

Today, Rick and I were just trying to get Ada lunch, a quick bath and get her dressed for the day. It all started with what was going to be a simple lunch...

I heated up left over lasagna and Rick sliced up an apple for the little munchkin. She gobbled it all up and ground most of it into her face, bib, and shirt in the process. The red sauce gave her the orange tint of an Oompa Loompa (see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory). As always, I took off the highchair tray and a hidden treasure of goodies was revealed. After breakfast, it was a teething biscuit and a pancake under her butt. This time, it was lasagna ground into her belly, pants, and the highchair. Nice.

Rick's bright idea was to take her and the whole chair into the bathroom for a bath. We got her out of the chair, stripped her down to her diaper and we not only had a mess in the living room under where her chair was, but we now had a mess in the bathroom too. But it gets worse. In typical Ada fashion, she's let go of a gargantuan, nasty poop. Upon removing her diaper, things were so bad that I placed her straight into the tub. The first rinse was to get the poo off of her and the tub. The second was to get everything else off of her. What a little stinker--but a cute one at that.

What do we do after the shower? Lotion and a diaper. For the first time ever, Ada didn't pee on us before we got her diaper on. We are going to have to celebrate later with a bottle of wine. (read: bottle not glass). This is almost as big as Obama getting elected president people. Here we are, Ada in a diaper, Rick and I trying to get her dressed and all is well, and dry. Then I put a t-shirt over her head and she takes off in the other direction before I can pull it down around her neck. She's crawling away from me, unable to see since the t-shirt is completely covering her face, and what does she do? She runs head first into the metal radiator cover of course. Doink! Rick grabs her up, takes the shirt off her head and she just looks at us like "What happened?" We are holding back an enormous belly laugh for fear that she will burst into "What have you done to me?" tears and wails... but they never come. So Rick and I practically fall over laughing at her misfortune. She's totally fine, but I've got a cramp under my rib from laughing so hard at my little poop monster of misfortune.

Moral of the story: There is no such thing as a "normal" day when you have a child. All days are, however, sure to include several laughs. Hope your belly can handle it.