Ryan Went to Mexico...

... And left me at home with two sick babies.

At first the three of us just had colds - some congestion, runny noses, and little coughs.  I said to him that I hoped things didn't "implode" as soon as he left and I was sort of kidding.

Turned out that's exactly what happened.

Ryan left on Wednesday morning for a 5-day Cancun vacation to attend his best friend's destination wedding.  Thursday morning, Cam woke up with an irritated right eye (red, swollen, no goop) and was a little "off" but was otherwise his normal self.

I had planned on taking both kids to daycare like normal, and then coming back at 10:00 to pick Zoey up for her 6 month well check.  My plan was to also take the rest of the day off to just hang with her since we don't get a lot of one-on-one time together.

My plan quickly backfired when Cam took one step into daycare and Ms. Tiffany said, "what's wrong with his eye?"  I said I wasn't sure, but that it was goop-free and he wasn't itching it so I was hoping it was just a side effect from the cold.  She apologized and said she just wasn't comfortable having him stay in case it was pink eye.  I totally understood, accepted that my plan was foiled, and we went back home.

It was a good thing we did.

It only took about 30 minutes for Zoey to go down for her first nap and someone else to snuggled up with me and fall asleep.

He woke up after snoozing for two hours (what?!) and he was clearly feeling crummy.  His temperature was 101.7.  I gave him some Advil and was happy that we were going to be heading to the pediatrician's office and hoped that she would be willing to take a quick look at him before or after she was done with Zo Zo.

This was my boy on the way to the doctor's office.

While he was laying comatose on the exam room bench - the doctor checked his ears and they were clear, and looked at his eye and felt like the irritation and the fever was just a virus.  I felt relief and by the time Zoey's appointment was done, the Advil seemed to have kicked in and he was sitting up-right and talking to the doctor about the bouncy house.

I was shocked (but happy) when he took another two and half hour nap at his normal nap time.  He woke up in a decent mood and because his eyes were still free of goop - we had planned on going over to my parents' house for dinner.

Some time passed and his temperature was back up to 102.1 and Zoey had a little 100 degree temperature too.  I felt confident that Zo's temperature was related to her vaccinations so I gave her some baby Tylenol.  I called my mom saying both kids had fevers and asked if they would bring dinner to us.

I gave Cammy more Advil and decided a lukewarm bath could do them both some good.  My parents arrived right as I was getting Cam out of the tub and they could tell his coloring was off and he wasn't feeling well.  The Advil was not working it's magic like it had earlier in the day.  The poor guy was (literally) shivering cold but burning up.  I text Tiff to see what she would do if Huck had a fever like Cam's that wasn't responding to medicine and she said she would absolutely call the pediatrician's office and see what they said.  I knew she was right and called.  I got the nurses line and left a message.

A little more time passed, Camden's fever was up to 136.4 and I called the on-call doctor's line.Thank goodness our pediatrician was still in the office (it was after 6pm) and I could tell her Cammy's downward spiral since seeing him earlier in the morning.  She suggested giving him some Tylenol to help combat the fever even though he had already been given Advil.

I gave him one little push of Tylenol and he started to cry saying "I don't wike it!" but I pressed forward and was then shown just how much he didn't like it.  He vomited all over the place.  I swear my blood pressure spiked just like his fever.  I immediately called the doctor back to tell her what just happened and she asked if he was urinating.  I can't believe I didn't see that as a red flag before the question, but I realized no, he had not gone pee since he woke up from his nap at 2:30 - even though he had been drinking a little water.

She calmly said, "you need to take him to the emergency room."

My heart sank, my blood pressure rose, and I started to cry but managed to make out an "OK, thank you."

I quickly nursed Zoey to sleep and laid her down, changed my clothes, grabbed the iPad, and dad and I put the little guy in the car and we headed to the emergency room.  Mom stayed back with Zoey.  I cannot even say how thankful I am that they had come to us for dinner and were able to help like they did. 

We had to wait quite a while to get back to a room, but Cam was just content to sit in my lap and snuggle while he continued to burn up.  I thought it was hot in the waiting room and it turns out he was making me hot.

After we got back into the room (around 8:00 and well past his bedtime) he laid down on the bed and was happy to watch a video on the iPad while we waited.  I was so thankful how quickly he was seen by a doctor, one who did a super thorough check and asked a lot of questions.  He quickly eliminated an ear infection and appendicitis, asked for a chest x-ray, and felt it best to get him some IV fluids, anti-nausea medicine, and more Advil. 

Poor guy was still burning up but cold so the nurse gave him a warm blanket.  Before the x-ray, the nurse put some numbing cream and "stickers" (to keep the numbing cream in place) on his arms in preparation for the IV.  The x-ray was easy and Cam perked up getting to see his "skeleton."

Holding him down and hearing him cry and scream like I've never heard before while he was getting his line in for the IV was god-awful.  I was trying to distract him and sing songs and it was all I could do to keep my voice steady.

Thankfully the nurses (yes, plural) got the line in no problem.  I said to go ahead and do the influenza test (shoving a little stick thing really far up both nostrils) while he was already pissed off.  And boy, did that piss him off.  Thankfully he was content to snuggle with me and hold onto my chapstick.  I can't even describe how calming the chapstick was to him.  It was funny and cute and sad all at the same time.  The poor kid was just absolutely miserable.

The fluids ran for 30 minutes with some anti-nausea medicine thrown in too.  The doctor came back in and said the influenza test was negative, as were all other tests/cultures they ran on his blood for infection.  We gave him a dose of Advil that he kept down and another dose of Tylenol that he did not.  His temperature was still 103.6 but they felt like with the Motrin and fluids - he was OK to go home.  It was 10:15 at this point and I wasn't going to argue.

He fell asleep in the car on the way home and I put him in our bed.  I figured there was no way in hell I would be able to sleep soundly if he was in his room.  Even though I knew I wouldn't sleep well with him in bed with me - at least I would be able to reach over and feel his temperature throughout the night or be right there if he needed something.

He slept OK overnight and his temperature went down but didn't sleep as long as you would have thought since he went to bed so late.

Ryan still has three days left in his trip, but I sure hope the worst is behind us.  He got to talk to Cam on the phone last night while we were in the emergency room and he said hearing his miserable little voice made him (Ryan) cry because he felt so sorry for him and hated that he wasn't there.  I assured him he was sick but going to be OK and we did the right thing in bringing him to the hospital.

Today he's overall been in much brighter spirits, played with his toys a little bit, and is asking for fruit snacks.  His fever has been up and down but I'm giving him Advil to try and help.  Thankfully, he took a decent nap today and seems OK for now.

Fingers crossed the worst is over.

Take Luck,

LP

Lately

I have started this post about 17 times now.  I get distracted by my children, my mommy brain, or randomly fall asleep because I have a moment of silence and I instinctively try to catch a cat nap.

It seems like a lot and nothing has been going on all at the same time the past couple (almost two!) months.  We are busy acclimating to life as a family of four.  For the first several weeks of Zoey's life, I was more than a wee bit terrified of having two kids and wondering if I was going to be able to keep my head above water.  I'm happy to report I've found my not-back-to-work-yet-but-I-have-two-kids-groove and I'll worry about the working-full-time-and-I-have-two-kids-groove later.

So, what's new?

- I'm basking in the glow of my maternity leave and the thought of returning to work makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth.  My biggest guilty pleasure has been watching Kelly and Michael.

- Second biggest guilty pleasure (that I wish was a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream!) is binge watching on Netflix.  I finished the third season of Orange is the New Black, finally got to watch the final season of Parenthood (on Hulu, thank you for the suggestion Tiff!) and bawled my eyes out, and just finished the first season of Grace and Frankie.

That makes me sound like all I do is watch television, but I promise you I do other things like take naps.

- Speaking of Tiff, she and the kids (and her aunt!) are coming to visit us next week and I cannot even explain how excited I am.  My heart is happy and full and they aren't even here yet.

 - We'll be flying to St. Louis in August for Ryan's cousin's wedding.  This will be the first time we've flown with two kids and maybe I'm setting myself up for disaster but I'm feeling mostly confident.  I've been trying to find a dress to wear to the wedding that is flattering, comfortable yet wedding-appropriate, and nursing-friendly and I'm starting to wonder if such a dress exists.

- I would just like to mention (again!) that the airfare to St. Louis was outrageous.  Seriously, I'm wondering if Alaska Airlines fully understands the concept of supply and demand.  I'm pretty sure people aren't lining up to travel to the hot and humid August that is St. Louis, Missouri.

- I have a work trip to Hawaii in mid-September and we've decided to make a family vacation out of it.  Ryan, the brave soul, will watch the kids during the day while I'm in my meeting, and he will run away for a cocktail as soon as I return.  Kidding, I hope.  To be honest, I am very excited and my online shopping habits has never been more worrisome in preparation for this adventure.  

- The airfare to Honolulu was cheaper than the airfare to St. Louis.  Again, I ask in what world does that make sense, Alaska Airlines?!

- I've concluded that neither Ryan, Camden, or Zoey can ever say that I don't love them.  On two occasions now I have packed up my children and gone down to the frozen yogurt shop to get Ryan a cup and left without any for myself.  Cutting dairy from my diet has proved to be a wise decision for Zoey's stomach, so I continue on and sacrifice my love for milk products - hence, no fro yo for mommy.  Last week Camden randomly (and very excitedly!) asked to go swimming at the CCA (he meant YMCA) and he was so darn excited I just couldn't say no.  Ryan needed to study so at seven weeks postpartum, I handed off Zoey, grabbed my bikini, prayed I wouldn't see anyone I knew, and took my sweet boy swimming.  I vowed not to make eye contact with anyone and pretended to be invisible to everyone other than the happiest little guy in the pool.

- Camden's understanding seems to have shifted and I'm convinced he thinks his OK ot Wake! alarm clock tells him when to get up and not that it's OK to get up.  It's currently set for 6:35 and swear I will watch him on the monitor and he will be dead asleep at 6:34, roll around at 6:35 and peek at his (now green) clock, and immediately hop out of bed.  If I don't immediately free him from his bed chamber he will fake cry until I do and then proudly jump around and point to his clock saying, "it turned green, Mommy!"

- Several weeks ago when Zoey was very new, and in an effort to show Camden that he was still special and loved, we took him bowling after Ryan got off work.  We went to our lane with his little six pound, orange, child's ball but he was adamant that he want a blue one.  Seriously, before Ryan or I could tell him, "no!" or run over to stop him, he was helping himself to a lovely 15 pound blue ball off the rack.  I don't even know how he managed to get it off that the rack as quick as he did but he promptly dropped it on his toe and even more promptly started to open-mouth-no-sound-cry.  We weren't too surprised when his big toenail fell off this weekend. #parentsofthecentury

- We took Camden to see Minions in the movie theater and set our expectations really, really low.  I figured, both he and Zoey were free and it was a matinee showing, so if we had to bail early we were only out the cost of our adult tickets.  I was a little worried when sitting in my lap after the first preview, he turned around to face me and said, "OK, all done!"  We assured him it was worth it to stick around and watch and may or may not have bribed him with some M&Ms (emmy ems if speak Camnado).  Zoey slept through the whole show and he got a little restless towards the end, but we made it to the credit roll.  

- The cashier at the store yesterday asked me if Zoey was mine and after I gave her a very confused look she laughed and told me that I don't look like I would have a baby that young.  I laughed  a big, hearty "HA!" and then asked her if I could hug her.  She returned my confused look and I quickly told her that she had just made my day.

Totally exciting stuff, right?  You're welcome.

Take Luck,

LP

Twins?

Today was an interesting one.

I was walking down the stairs to leave my building, with two men walking in front of me.  I made it to the platform when one of the men turned around, made eye contact with me, looked down at my tummy, and said, "Wow, are you having twins?!"

 I would like to state that I know this guy (let's call him Dan), and am not Dan's biggest fan.  He's an arrogant chump in his mid-50's and I find him incredibly obnoxious on both a personal and professional level.  I know I'm getting bigger (hell, I should be at 38 weeks), and honestly could give two hoots about Dan and what he has to say, but Dan is a good 50 pounds overweight and really has no business criticizing or commenting on anyone else's body.

Given that I cannot seem to leave my desk without someone making a comment about my pregnancy or body, you can imagine how a comment/question like, "Wow, are you having twins?!" might push me over the edge.

I'm proud (really proud) to say that instead of shying away and awkwardly laughing off the comment, our conversation went like this:

Dan: Wow, are you having twins?!

Me: Who the hell asks a pregnant woman that question?

Dan: (blank stare) Uhhhh...

Me: No, seriously.  Not cool.

Dan: Well, I haven't seen you in a while and you've gotten a lot bigger.

Me: Yes, well, that's what happens when you are a week from your due date.

Dan: (total insincere and thinking he's hilarious) It's been 20 years since my wife was pregnant.  I'm sorry I just shouldn't say anything.

Me: Yes, exactly.

Thankfully we were walking out of the building and to our vehicles during this conversation so I didn't have to make eye contact.  Otherwise I would have totally lost my nerve, responded with something only mildly sarcastic, and spent the drive to daycare thinking about what I should have said.  Instead, I got in my car, did a little fist pump and was really proud of myself for telling 'ol Dan exactly what I thought of his comment/question.

My only regret was that I didn't respond to "Wow, are you having twins?!" with "No, are you?" and walked off like a badass.

Source

Take Luck,

LP

If You Give a Kid a Cupcake...

... He will go bat shit crazy.

I'm only sort of kidding and I'll tell you why.

This past weekend was kinda nutty.  Ryan had to work 8am-8pm on both Saturday and Sunday.  Odd shifts are far from ideal, but they are what they are and I try really hard not to complain.  At least not too much anyway.  As luck would have it, with Ryan at work and me 33 weeks pregnant, Camden decided to give me a real run for my money.

Saturday morning we had soccer and it was all fine and dandy.  Until class started.  Because I am compulsively early, we were there before the mob of 20 wild beasts (and their parents) gathered on the soccer field.  Cam was happy to run freely (wildly), pass the ball back and forth with me, and score goals.  My dad had come to watch and was standing out on the field with me when my Hammy decided he didn't so much want to participate.  Like at all.

For the next 45 minutes, he alternated between debating on participating, throwing himself on the turf, drinking his water, running away from us, picking up some of the obstacle course equipment and using them as (flying) weapons, and just generally doing the exact opposite of anything and everything I said.  I promise I'm not one of those parents that thinks their child is a perfect little angel (hello, I refer to him as a wild beast), but this behavior was really out of character for him.  We tried ignoring him, two-year old appropriate reverse psychology, and timeouts and none of it was helping or working.  He kept saying, "Go home?" and while part of me really, really wanted to get out of there and put us all out of our misery, the other part thought, "No, we're not going home, you little jerk face.  We are staying here."  More flailing, more defiance and I finally waved my little white flag, threw him over my shoulder (a sight, I am sure of it), and carried him off the field.  A screaming, kicking child, and a 33 week pregnant woman don't really mix, so my dear old daddy had the honor of taking over as chariot.

Thank goodness he napped well and wasn't a complete shit the rest of the day and evening, but he was close - totally sassy and testing my already low patience like it was going out of style.  We capped off the day with a trip to the park to "frow wocks."

Sunday morning he was in a super great mood.  We went to the grocery store nice and early (because that's what parents whose kids wake up at 6:15am on Sunday do), and he was my little helper.  He loves counting and putting produce into the plastic bags and then gently placing (ahem, throwing) them in the cart.  

We spent the rest of the morning playing trains, reading books, blowing bubbles, and FaceTiming with Ryan's parents.  Our friend's little boy, Alex, was having his third birthday party at a local park in the afternoon and it was going to work out "perfectly" with Camden's nap time.  I can hear God laughing at me as I type this, because I'll give you two guesses as to who decided it was a great day to spend an hour protesting his nap.  

Did you guess Camden?  Congratulations and don't mind my middle finger.  He finally fell asleep after he had some quality scream-crying time in his crib (don't judge) and then being rocked to sleep.  

I woke him up (I know!) and we ventured to the park.  He was very excited to go to the birthday party but not so excited to forfeit the present (four little Chuggington trains).  Thanks to the weather, the park was crazy crowded, but we found our people and I immediately helped myself to food while Camden was entertained by a bubble machine.  We spent some time playing on the playground, and then it was time for cupcakes and gifts.

Here's where it got really interesting.  We don't give Cam a whole lot of sugar.  Don't get me wrong - he eats his fair share of processed foods, but very, very rarely does he get sugary treats.  And I was reminded as to why.

I took about 90% of the frosting off of his cupcake and helped him eat it so not to make a total mess.  I should have videotaped his consumption because, dear lord - he inhaled it.  I should have known that a shit storm was looming.

We watched Alex open all his gifts and resumed playing on the playground until it was time to go.  My parents were at the Mariner game for my dad's birthday and they had asked if we would check on and feed their puppies for them so we needed to scoot.  Cam surprisingly left without a fuss and we drove to Grammy and Papa's.  We let the dogs out, he stepped in dog poo, and somehow the dog poo managed to find its way onto his shorts.  Fantastic.

Cara called me on FaceTime so Cam and I sat down in the living room to chat.  It was then that I started to wonder if the cupcake he consumed at the party was laced with crack.  Why?  Because during this FaceTime session, my child thought he was auditioning for toddler WWF/WWE and was repeatedly standing on a little red rocking chair and jumping onto me like a spider monkey.  Or Hulk Hogan.  I don't even know.  It was sort of funny at first and then he got this crazy look in his eye and (wait for it) picked up his toddler sized rocking chair and threw it at me.

It's beyond embarrassing but I mean seriously, people. 

Cara and I attempted to continue a conversation and failed miserably - both of us seriously distracted by our boys.  For the record, her boys were not throwing toddler-sized rocking chairs at her.  We finally gave in and ended the call, and I drove a pant and shoe-less Hammy home in relative silence, promising myself to never ever let him eat a cupcake again.

We got home, powered through the rest of the night, and I didn't even have to go in his room once to get him to lay back down in bed.  I think part of his little man self just knew that mommy was done.  Ryan got home just after 8pm and asked how my day was.  The tears immediately started flowing and somehow I managed to say, "It was OK."

With a new baby less than six weeks away, I should probably get used to our lives being a little more chaotic than we're used to.  But seriously - no more cupcakes.

Take Luck,

LP

Easter 2015

Thanks to a 4:15am wake up call from one little big-boy-bed-fleeing bunny, our Easter Sunday was a very slow and quiet one.  After I escorted him back to bed, he did fall back asleep until 5:50am, which as sad as it is to admit, made me really happy and even prompted me to say, "Good job, buddy!  Yes, we can go downstairs."

Even though I know it's silly, I had a lot of fun picking out little things for the (ahem) Easter Bunny to put in Cam's basket.  Nothing crazy of course, but in his basket was a new Thomas & Friends train (Henry), a Bubble Guppies coloring book, jumbo crayons, bubbles, fruit snacks, and a small bag of M&Ms (that I am hoping to later use as bribery).  Cam really only cared about the new train, and couldn't have cared less about any of the other little goodies.  I may or many not have eaten his fruit snacks.

The Easter Bunny also brought Ryan this book and a sugar-coma inducing amount of candy.

We had planned on attending church service and an Easter egg hunt, but not only was early-rising-Hammy in no shape to have a late nap - this mommy was dog-tired and completely content on staying in her jammies and doing absolutely nothing.  I mean, totally getting some things done around the house. 

Ry and I hid plastic Easter eggs around our main floor and let Cam loose on the hunt.  I was so excited to see him get excited by each and every egg he found (especially the one's with two jellybeans inside) and proud that he made such big strides in his egg hunting abilities since last year.

After Cam's lengthy and much needed nap, Ryan offered to do the grocery shopping and I did not turn him down.  Happy Easter to me!

Depending on who in the house you asked, Sunday was either "Easter" or "MLB Opening Night."  I'll give you a second to figure that one out. Ryan was pumped to be able to wearing "matching" Cardinals jerseys with his best little buddy.

My parents came over for Easter/Opening Night dinner and I took the opportunity to get a not-our-Sunday-best family photo.  It may not be our Sunday best, but at least we got out of our jammies.

The smiles on both Cam and Ryan's face just slay me.  I sure do love those boys and feel very lucky to call them mine.

Take Luck,
LP

Fun Fail

There is no real point to this, other than I want to remember that one time we tried to venture out and take Camden to do something fun.  And failed miserably.  

On Saturday during Camden's nap, I called and asked my mom if she and my dad would be willing to watch Cam that night so Ryan and I could go have a dinner and movie date.  She happily obliged and we said we would drop him off around 5:00.

He woke up from his nap ready to rock-n-roll, and it was crummy weather-wise outside, so we got our things together and decided that we'd go bowling before dropping him off with Grammy and Papa.

We've been to the local bowling alley enough that Camden now knows where we are when we pull into the parking lot.  We walked into the bowling alley as a slew of birthday party guests were leaving, feeling confident that one little lane would be open for our use.  We get to the counter and are told there is a 45 minute wait for a lane.  Ha.  A 45 minute wait with this tornado child?  No, thanks.

We headed towards the door to leave and Camden started crying big 'ol tears, his hands desperately reaching out towards his beloved lanes, yelling, "Bowliiiiiing!  Bowliiiiiing!"  I had been carrying him at this point and had to pass him off to Ryan when he started flailing and kicking.  Many more tears were shed as we strapped him into his car seat and tried to explain that we would have to come back another time.

I felt really bad that we failed at our attempt to do something fun, and then had the idea to head to the local indoor play place (think bouncy houses).  We pulled into a mostly empty parking lot and were encouraged.  Until we got closer to the door and saw that "open play," had ended just 20 minutes ago.  We could see people inside, so like idiots, we went in and asked the lady at the front desk if we had indeed missed open play.  She assured us that we had, so we carried a distraught Camden out of another building.

We were really starting to feel like parents of the year at this point.

I was out of ideas, so Ryan suggested just heading to my parents' house to relax for a bit before heading to dinner.  They live across town from us, so this made sense.  We started driving towards their house and I was feeling extra bad about our failed fun attempts.   As a last ditch effort, I suggested we go drive through the local state park.  Normally, I would never have suggested this, but recently, thanks to Dora the Explorer (whom I loathe), Camden has started calling any heavily wooded area a "rainfowest (rainforest)," so I thought this might be a semi-redeeming consolation activity.

We pulled into the park and there were immediately ohhh's and ahhh's coming from the backseat.  He pointed out trees, squirrels, cows (I assure you there were none), fallen trees, clouds, and water, and informed us many times that we were in the rainfowest.

Feeling somewhat redeemed, we headed for the exit when Ryan spotted a big tree and suggested we get out and take a picture to document this experience. 

 

I'm sorry.  Who are you?  I was shocked.

Third time's a charm, I guess.

We dropped Cam off with my parents, went to the grocery store to stock up on movie theater treats, and went to dinner.  About halfway through dinner Ryan asked if I would rather rent a Red Box movie and just go home to be cozy instead of going to the theater.  I didn't hesitate in whole-heartedly saying "yes" - as long as I still got to eat my treats.

 

Take Luck,
LP

 

Bowling

It took Camden sprinting back and forth through the living room and kitchen about three times last night before I said to Ryan, "He's getting really antsy."

I suggested we take the little rugrat bowling.  So, we did.

The bowling alley was quite crowded and there weren't any kid's ramps available, so we took his little six pound bowling ball and found our lane.

Hammy caught on to the concept of bowling really fast, and only after a few frames in did he insist on carrying his own ball from the ball retriever to the top of the lane.  It also didn't take long for him to show us that he did not enjoy waiting for Ryan and I to bowl and for it to be his turn again.

After each roll (push of the ball) he would jump up and down, clapping for himself and run to either Ryan or me for a high five.

His first game he bowled an 83 and even threw a spare.  This was achieved, of course, with some help from the bumpers and Mommy and Daddy. 

The family bowling next to us ended their game so we got to use a ramp about two frames into the second game.  It was also around this time that his patience between turns was really wearing thin.  So, I would bowl my first turn and then let him finish for me.

After two games and with a sweaty and hungry little boy on our hands, we felt it was time to call our successful bowling outing a night.  

Someone didn't want to part with his "ow-ange" ball just yet.

Take Luck,

LP

Stuff My Two Year Old Says

I still can't believe that Camden is two.  I've talked a lot about how much he talks, but the things that are coming out of his mouth lately are a hoot.  I may be slightly biased because I am his adoring mother, and I may be the only one that finds these funny.  Regardless, I need to document.

- Sings Jingle Bells as "Jingle Balls."

- Will yell, "No! Stop!" (with his hand held out emphasizing his desire for you to stop) when you are singing a song he doesn't like.

- Sometimes if both Ryan and I are in the car and trying to sing a song to/with him, he will yell, "Guys! Guys!"  Also an indication that he would like us to stop.

- Very recently started requesting "shake shake," when in the car.  It took me awhile to figure out what the heck "shake shake" meant but it finally dawned on me that he wanted to hear Taylor Swift's "Shake it Off."  He especially likes the "mmmm hmmm's."

- Will point and ask "What's that?" literally 25 times over the course of each book you read to him.  Try ignoring the question and he will just keep pointing and asking.

- Apparently knows how to sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

- Woke up from an epic three and a half hour nap on Friday and I asked him how he slept.  Expecting him to say, "Good," he shocked me when he said, "I wun (run) fast!  I swing wope (rope)!"  I think he was dreaming about gymnastics class.

- I had the audacity to close the bathroom door while trying to pee in privacy and he was standing on the other side, knocking, saying, "Knock knock, Mommy!"

- Trips or falls down and will say, "You're ok!" (instead of "I'm ok!")  Wonder where he's heard that?

Aside from the tantrums (most of which I don't even think he knows why he's upset) and newfound defiance - I am loving this age.  For now.

Take Luck,

LP

Lately

Instead of trying to write out the latest happenings in several different posts, I figured I would knock it all out in one.

- We're slowly getting settled in the house.

- Ryan has been working 12 hour shifts for the last month, hence the slow settling speed.

- Cam started Kipper swim lessons a few weeks ago.  We love his instructor, he loves to jump off the side and into the pool, and other than some little turd pooping in the middle of lessons last Saturday, I'd say it's going quite well.

- September is looking to be a busy (and wonderful) month.  Cam and I jet off early in the month to see The Terry Family and then at the end of the month, we are taking a family vacation with Ryan's parents and sister (and her family) to Southern California - complete with a day at Disneyland.  I'm not trying to wish time away, but I. Cannot. Frigging. Wait.

- It's been hizity-hot here in the Pacific Northwest.  We normally have a very mild climate - not too hot and not too cold, but the low 90's are a smidge too high for us non-air conditioned folk.  The nighttime in the most uncomfortable.  I would let Cammy sleep naked but I have this deep rooted fear of waking up in the morning to a poop filled crib and child, even though he has no idea how to remove his diaper (yet).

- Ryan's parents came for a visit at the end of June and they were super helpful in getting settled and helping us fix a lot of the little things that needed fixing around here.  Ryan's sister and her family were supposed to join for a quick weekend, but they ran into some plane trouble and never left St. Louis.  Boo.

- Camden's speech is sort of exploding.  He picks up on words and small phrases and tries really hard to repeat a lot of what we say.  His new favorite work is "basket," but it comes out sounding more like "batshit."

- He also has one random Spanish word - aqua. 

-  We've been working on animal sounds and identifying body parts.  So far, he knows that cows say "moo," kitties say "meow," sheep say "baa," and dogs say "woof."  He can also point to his head, nose, ears, tummy, legs, and feet.

- I play on a women's slow pitch team and have for the past few years.  It was really hard for me at first to go from a highly competitive Divison I softball team to "just for fun" women's slow pitch.  I'm really enjoying it this year - except when we're scraping the barrel for players and those of us with "young legs" get to be the courtesy runners for some of the older ladies.

- Cam has also started to say, "No." He doesn't say it in a defiant way (yet), but usually if you ask him a question (any question), he responds with, "No?" as if he's unsure. 

"Camden, do you want to go to Disneyland?"

"No?"

"Camden, do you want some water?"

"No?"

My favorite was the other morning when I caught him bracing himself on the sliding glass door, clearly pooping.  When he finished, I said, "Did you go poo poo?"  And of course, he said, "No?" complete with head shake.

- I wrote an entire blog post dedicated to our recent experience of switching daycare.  I keep debating on whether or not to post it, but the more time passes, the more I just want to forget about it.  I'll just say it was not a smooth experience trying to leave his old daycare.  We found an amazing in-home daycare that is in a great location in relation to our new house and my work, and couldn't be happier so far.  

Right now the hardest thing for me to swallow is that he cried at drop off almost every single day at the old daycare, and he was there for six months.  I kept thinking it was separation anxiety, or habit, and that he would get over it.  I wondered if he didn't like it there or if something was wrong, but tried to assure myself that the tears and clinging would stop.  It never did.

He's been at new daycare for two weeks now and hasn't cried at a single drop off.  In fact, he barely seems to notice when I leave.  I get a kiss, and a wave bye-bye, and then he's busy playing with the kitchen set or whatever toy he's found.  At pickup, he doesn't ever seem ready to leave!  He's always surrounded by these cutie-patootie little girls, so I guess I don't blame him for not wanting to leave.  

I'm sure that in time I will get over our fairly dramatic experience with old daycare, but right now I'm beating myself all while being incredibly thankful that he is now so happy.  I started to cry at a drop off last week, purely out of relief that I'm not leaving him in a state of tears and panic.

- All of a sudden I'm feeling more comfortable and confident in my job. The last two years I've been very intimidated by my technical knowledge and experience, and lacked the confidence shown by others around me. I have no idea what caused the change but I like it.

 I know there is more. So much more. But this is all my overworked brain can muster and probably more than you wanted to know anyway. 

Take Luck,

LP

Sonny's Escape

Sonny may look sweet (she is) and innocent (she isn't) on the outside, but she is mischievous to her core. 

When we lived with my parents for a short time pre-Ridgemont, she would find any hole in their backyard fence to escape from.  I can't even guess how many times we were out there looking for her, listening for her collar jingle-jangle beyond the fence, and how many patches my poor dad had to make to try and keep her inside.  She always escaped, and we always found her.

I mentioned that our new backyard is only partially fenced, and because Brock and Sonny have a new fondness for chasing the birds and wild bunnies that frolic in the yard, we put them on their leashes when they go out to potty.  Normally I've got Camden in my right arm/on my right hip and a leash in each hand.  It really is a sight.  Brock is an idiot, but listens pretty well.  Sonny is mischievous and doesn't listen particularly well.  You see where this is going, yes?

Yesterday evening, right after Ryan got home from his seventh consecutive 12-hour shift, I started dinner when he went up to shower.  Both puppies were sitting at the deck door so I grabbed Camden and their leashes and made a big, big mistake.  Normally, I either put their leashes on while still inside or they are good little puppies and wait while I put their leashes on immediately after stepping outside.  Not today.  

The door opened and they both took off.  And I mean, took off, heading right for the line of trees that stands between our backyard and a ravine.  

I ran down the steps and into the yard, almost stepping on a playing-possum-rat (gah!) yelling at both dogs to come back.  Brock, bless his big, dopey heart, stopped at the tree line, obeyed and came right to me.  Sonny ran into the trees and didn't look back.

I stood there, looking like an idiot, calling her name, and could still hear her collar jingle-jangling, then confident that she would hear the tone in my voice and come back with a proud smile on her face.  Nothing.

I ran up into the house, put Brock inside, and came back out with treats (and Camden in the Ergo) thinking that she would certainly be lured out by the sound of me shaking the treat bucket.  No collar jingle-jangle.  Nothing.  The I'm-about-to-lose-it-lump started it's creep up my throat because I knew exactly what was (or wasn't?) beyond the trees.  The ravine.

I started to panic and kept yelling her name, my voice really starting to shake.  I went next door to ask permission to go look in their backyard.  I kept shaking the bucket and calling her name, stopping every few seconds to try and hear the jingle-jangle I so desperately wanted to hear.  Nothing.  Ugly crying commences.  

Ryan joined in the search (just what he wanted to do after another long day at work), and I don't know if it was because he was so tired or what, but he was emotionless.  Emotionless as if he was preparing for us not to find her.  Forget ugly crying, I was hysterical.

I kept calling her and calling her.  Nothing.  No rustling of bushes, no jingle-jangle.  Nothing.  Just the image in my head of her falling down the ravine and me becoming exponentially more panicked with each passing minute.  For every time I called her name, Camden would echo with "Shu-She" and I became even more hysterical at the thought of him losing his Shu-She.

About 15 minutes into the search, I called my parents for reinforcements.  I don't really recall the conversation with my mom, but somehow she understood my words through my sobs and said they would be right over.

I ended up going to three different neighbors houses, asking I could look in their backyards, and giving them a quick description of what she looks like.  They were all very nice and obliging to the crazy-hysterical woman who's child wasn't wearing pants (sorry, Cammy).  Each one of them was quick to point out that, "You know if she goes down the ravine... She's not coming back up."  All I could do was swallow what I really wanted to say and respond with, "That's what I'm afraid of." In case you were wondering, what I really wanted to say was, "THANKS, EFFING ASSHOLE!  I HADN'T CONSIDERED THAT POSSIBILITY!" They also let us know that bears, coyotes, mountain lions, and big daddy raccoons roam the woods surrounding our neighborhood. Fabulous. 

More "Shu-She" calling, more bucket shaking, more time passing.  Nothing.  Except more hysterics, hyperventilation, feeling nauseated, and every few seconds Camden giving my mid-section a little squeeze with his arms (which by the way, he'll never know how precious and perfectly timed those squeezes were).

For whatever reason, I kept going back to this one section of our neighbor's yard.  They had a small rock wall dividing their yard from the ravine, and behind the wall growing on what small amount of land left was a bunch of bushes.  There was a small path/opening beside the wall where they could drop their yard clippings.  Standing in that opening and feeling totally defeated, I shook the bucket again.  And guess what I heard?  The faintest little jingle-jangle.  All shakiness left my voice and I called her name.  More jingle-jangle and the slightest rustling of bushes.

From wherever Ryan was looking, he could hear the change in my calls and came over with my parents. I did the really stupid thing, of course, and went into the opening to stand on some seriously unstable pile of yard debris, calling her name, trying to encourage her to come out.  I could hear her trying to move and could tell she was stuck.  Ryan, the hero, came over and ventured out further to try and see her, and he spotted her right away.  She was so far back (and stuck) in these bushes that I had to go get our hedge clippers so Ryan could cut his way into her.  He got her out, handed her to my dad, and then my dad helped pull Ryan out.  It was like our own damn 45-minute search and rescue mission.

We headed back towards the house and once my heart started beating regularly I sat down on the grass and said that since I knew she was alive, I was going to kill her.  Just kidding.  But I really did say that.   

Once everyone was back inside, and Sonny in timeout, I kept thinking that this little search and rescue mission could have ended differently, and I forced myself to just focus on the fact that we found her.  She's ok.  Perspective really set in when I realized, she's a frigging dog (who we love very much, obbbbbbviously), and cannot begin to imagine how indescribably awful it would be if I thought I'd lost Camden.  I won't even go there.

So, you might be asking yourself - did she just blog about losing her dog for 45 minutes?  Yes, I did.  Was it a dramatic and traumatic experience?  Hell yes.  But, trust me when I said that I also realize it pales in comparison to others misfortunes.  Sometimes, with everything we have going on in life, I have very little patience left for these dogs.  This experience served as a good reminder of how much I love them both and how important they are to our family. I wrote out this dramatic manifesto because I want to be able to look back on these 45 minutes someday, maybe someday when Sonny isn't around anymore, and laugh at how big of a little shit she was.  

And how Camden called her "Shu-She."

Take Luck,
LP

My Super Power

I've decided that I have a super power.  A gift, if you will.

My super power?

Picking the absolute worst line while checking out at a grocery store, or any store that may present a patron with multiple exit-upon-payment options.

This gift of mine used to be funny.  Ryan would laugh at my ability to continually choose the worst/slowest line possible.  I'm afraid to say that this tendency of mine is leaving the funny zone and been given a shove into annoying and incredibly irritating.

Let me enlighten you.

Sunday at Fred Meyer to do our weekly shopping with my shopping cart buddy who was done sitting in the seat.  I spot a family friendly line where there's only one couple, and they are checking out with several hanger plants.  Super.  I unload the masses from my cart onto the conveyer belt whilst holding my Hammy Cammy with my other arm.  I'm in a good rhythm when the belt stops full.  The coupon the woman had for her hanging planters wasn't registering and so the cashier was having to call back to the nursery.  Could the problem be solved over the phone?  Of course not.  

The customer attempted to make idle chit chat with me while we waited.  She laughed about the fact that she wasn't missing out on saving $7.50 and I did my best fake laugh while wiping the sweat from my forehead.

Eighteen minutes later it was our turn.  That's an exaggeration but with a wiggly toddler it felt like for-ev-er.

Yesterday I stopped at Safeway after work to pick up doughnuts for Ryan to take to his new 6pm-6am work shift.  I quickly selected an assortment of doughnuts, considered stuffing one in my mouth right then and there, and proceeded to the checkout.  Shocked at the number of lanes open, I chose an express lane with one couple in line and a bunch of cases of soda in their cart.  The stars seemed to align.  The cashier asked the customer if they had a Safeway Club Card and after much internal though and reflection, she declared that she did not.  He offered her one, she agreed and proceeded to fill out the damn paperwork right there on the spot.  

I'm not kidding when I say I covered my mouth with my wallet in order to keep from yelling some sort of expletives.

Last week at Target.  The lady in front of me forgot her wallet.  This was established after she emptied the entire contents of her purse out onto the counter.

Two weeks ago at Fred Meyer.  The lady in front of me was arguing over a competitor coupon and whether or not she was purchasing the exact same advertised item.  She wasn't, but the way, and insisted to speak to a manager.

Is this problem and these examples really a big deal?  Hell no.  But they happen all the frigging time.  I cannot make this stuff up.  I'm hardly ever in a true hurry, it's just the principal that this always happens that is stirring me into a dramatic frenzy.

Clearly I need a new strategy for selecting check out lanes.

Do you have this problem?  Or is this truly a magical super power that I possess?

Take Luck,

LP

We All Survived

My brother and his family bought a new house and were moving this past weekend. Knowing I wouldn't be much help with physically moving them (or maybe due to a temporary lapse in my sanity) I offered to watch Kennedy and Riley for the day. 

I spent many hours with them before Camden was born, but this would be the first time I watched them since. They LOVE Cam and he just goes with the flow so I didn't think it would be too tough - just tiring. 

As luck would have it, my little man cub has been (finally) cutting top molars and woke up with a faucet in place of his little button nose. He was grumpy, clingy, and overall the opposite of his normal gem-like personality. Humbled. 

Really, the day went well and the big kids only got overly rambunctious a few times - but that's to be expected. What I didn't expect (or rather, had forgotten) was the absolutely historical things that innocently come out of Kenny and Riley's mouth. 

- Riley kept calling Brock "Brick" and neither kid could keep Sonny's name straight (one of their other aunts has two weiner dogs named Finny and Lucy so naturally...). By the end of the day they were getting close but calling her "Sunnyshine." 

- Because he's cutting teeth, Camden's hands had been in his mouth allllll morning. Camden put his hand on Riley's arm and he said "Uhhh, Aunt Lauren? Baby Camden's hands are really sweaty."

- Kennedy: "I think my dad's favorite color is gray." Me: "Why do you say that?" Kennedy: "Because his hair keeps getting grayer and grayer."

- Riley: "Does Uncle Ryan have a pump in his pants?" Me: "Uhhhhhh what?" Riley: "Does he have a pump in his pants?" (Clearly annoyed and holding up little sports balls that are flat and need to be pumped with some some air) 

- Kennedy, commenting on Camden's fascination with his noise blocking ear muffs - "He likes to wear them so he can't hear you."

- Kennedy, after I tried to help her with a Frozen online game, but ended up getting Kristoff eaten by a wolf - "(heavy sigh) You were supposed to HELP me but you blew it."

I can't wait to start documenting "Camdenisms" and the funny things Hammy says.

For now, I have confirmed my previous decision to not pursue a career in in-home child care. And after this experience, it's quite possible that we will only have two children. I only have two eyes, two arms, and two legs, and after today, I feel like I would need an extra of each to wrangle three.

By the end of the day, Camden was in rough shape and rare form.   He practically refused to take off his ear muffs and I was willingly giving him Roberto just to keep the crying and shrieking at bay.

The good news? We all survived.

Take Luck,

LP