Trifecta Part II

Almost 4 years ago we had our first trifecta dinner party, it was fun. If you like dogs pooping in the corner.  No seriously, the people made it fun. Just like Trifecta Part Duex.

The scene: we're at a friends house. A glorious new condominium that the likes of Pinterest was created for.  After a long weekend full of 16 hour work days and a long day at the office, it was a highlight of our stay in Boston.  I'm not quite sure if by the end of the evening it was the highlight of their weekend.

To review, the characters include:

• The ball & chain - the husband.
• Yours truly - me.
• The kid - 4 year old, on the move and in vacation mode 3 days and counting at the point of the story. 
• The baby - 7 months old and unpredictable as the day is long. 
• Jez - a friend with whom despite having many differences with, you would be surprised at the amount of things we say, think, or even choose to wear on any given day that is identical. Sometimes on purpose, so what we have the same duvet cover, most times by accident. 
• Chris #6 - Jez' husband and the 6th Chris in our life. When in doubt, if you want to know what some one's name is, it's likely Chris.

Opening act:
In observing all that goes into the baby stage, especially when it comes to feeding the little bugger Chris #6 asked a puzzling question: "At what point can you sit down and eat dinner together?" The ball & chain answered confidently, "We eat dinner together every night, just about."  However that really wasn't the question.  He clarified, "When do get to use both hands?"  We laughed. I don't think it was a joke. We answered something to the effect of:"Well. L is 4 years old and we're still waiting."

The Trifecta:
We show up and JJ starts spitting up (aka vomiting) all over their glorious new bamboo floors. Note to self: bamboo sure does clean up nice and easy. That's count 1 for the trifecta. Fast forward, there is eating, drinking, and being merry. We had sous vide pork, as you do when you dine with a fancy pants chef in disguise. You didn't know what that is either, do you? About 20 minutes into the meal, the kid excuses herself. She heads to the bathroom which is dangerously close to the meal. I don't worry, but I do notice how close it is when we hear her murmur, "Wow. That bread sure is spicy."

The bread was not spicy.

We all laugh and when I ask if she needs help (parent lingo for, "Are you going to poop?") she declines and announces she just has to pee. That's 2 in the count to trifecta.

5 minutes later she gets up from the table, again, and goes to the bathroom. Someone makes a joke about the "spicy bread" and I silently hope for the best. As the adults giggle our way through dinner, the kid can hear us commenting on the effects of spicy bread and she wants to set the record straight. Despite her being able to just tell it like it is, she screams it - to make sure no one is confused.

"I'M NOT POOPING! I'M JUST FARTING!!!!"

You'd think that's 3 in the count to trifecta, but it's not. Let's call it 2.5.

On an aside? While I could have gone without the screaming like a lunatic about her flatulence, it was a proud mama moment. For years we've been telling her, rather than letting it rip at the dinner table (or any table, hall, or room for that matter), excuse yourself to the bathroom. She did it! Proud. Mama. Moment. You know who wasn't as proud? Chris #6. Homeboy was starting to loose the color in his cheeks, and I don't think it was the spicy bread.

P.S. The bread? It totally wasn't spicy.

So, post "I'M NOT POOPING! I'M JUST FARTING!!!!" we settle down and the adults continue to eat.  A few minutes later and home girl leaves the table, again, to make her way to the bathroom. Again. Let the spicy bread jokes ensue.

But then shit got real.

Literally.

"Um. I need some help. Daddy! I pooped on my leg."

That. Happened.

Chris #6 goes ghost white and I'm pretty sure his desire to procreate left the building. The ball & chain goes and helps the kid out and since we apparently have a mic in the bathroom, we could hear the whole thing.

The kid, "I just kept going to the bathroom. I wanted to look. I was curious."

Apparently the spicy bread got her, so when she went to go and look - well, she got poop on her leg. As you do. To make matters worse (because it had to get worse), she got nervous and she pulled up her pants. Awesome.

"Luckily" we were traveling with a year's worth of clothing, so the costume change was painless. The look on Chris #6's face? Not so much. 

Closing act:
We're going to San Diego in a few months. We told L all about the San Diego zoo and all the animals we'll see. We're pumped. Jez & Chris #6 just got back from Australia. L was looking through their pictures. She came up on Kola bears, as you do. Her natural and no nonsense response? "Oh you went to the San Diego zoo, too? That's nice."

So yea, we're going to Australia aka, the San Diego zoo soon - and God willing? There will be no pooping on any legs. A girl can dream. 
Forward:
The next day Jez left me a voice mail. L loved it.

"Hey it's Jez. Call me back. I pooped on my leg." 

The only issue? Since this was a favorite story to tell from place to place on our journey, L loves to tell it. It gets a big laugh. Slight issue though, she doesn't introduce the concept or set up the story.  So her version? It goes like this:

"And then Mama's friend Jez left a message. It was so funny. OK I'll tell you. 'Hey it's Jez. Call me back. I pooped on my leg!!!' And then I was in the bathroom and I said: 'I'M NOT POOPING! I'M JUST FARTING!!!!'" 

We are going to work on the story telling. It can only go up from here.

Lessons from the Road

We're back. We survived. Where left you left your superhero we were getting ready to take a trip. Scared of what was to come, not so much the visit itself on the other side of the transportation, but the journey itself to get to the visit ahead of us.

Long story short - the travel piece - went swimmingly (on the way there). It was perfection, sure there were some bumps, but the start of our trip? It was (overall) glorious.

Some interesting factoids and photographic proof of mayhem and/or above aforementioned glory?

1. Traveling alone with all that is needed on the first leg of the trip is a pain in the ass interesting. We came into the airport like bats out of hell and may or may not have taken down the "VIP" ropes. Traveling with kids means traveling like a pack mule. I had one suitcase that should fit clothing for a year, a car seat, a piece O crap stroller (that I found out in-between two boarding lines doesn't actually fold with ease), a diaper bag and a back pack. Visual b: The rope that didn't see it coming. In related news? Yea, we're starting with b. Whoops.
   
2. East coast trip = Dunkin' Donuts everywhere. Even at the gate to go to the East Coast. I run on Dunkin'. Visual a, perfection: a D&D at our gate. Oh heaven how I love you. You know what else runs?
   
3. People. They suck. Specifically when you walk toward them with a baby. The looks I got carrying that kid, you would think I had a bomb strapped to my body. The looks, the sneers, the whispering. At one point, I almost started to say to people "I know, I hope she isn't on my flight either! Am'I riiight??"
   
4. In getting on leg 1 of my trip (yes, I had to stop) the gate attendant handed me my ticket as I boarded flight whispering in my ear, "The seat next to you is empty." To which my only response could be, "God bless you." Note to self, travel tip: When getting on a flight, be sure to check your ticket for your seat assignment.  True story.
   
   After blessing the airline agent, I settled into my seat, D16. 2 carry ons and wearing the baby. Afraid for my life and those around me. A man comes up to our aisle and I think to myself, DAMN I thought that broad said this seat was empty. He informs me, I am, in fact D16, in his seat. I look at my ticket... A16. I could have sworn it was D - but whatever. I move.
   
   I cozy into A16, scared for my life, wondering what kind of hell the baby will put me through as soon as we take off because on all accounts home girl looks happy. I figure, it's the calm before the storm.
   
   2 minutes later, a new man appears. He says, I am in his seat. I look up and check, I'm in A16. My seat, so says my ticket. I get it out, to prove this yahoo wrong and hope to sweet baby hay-Zues they didn't double book my seat. I look. I SEE A16 - and show him. At which point he shows me that A16 was the gate. My seat is D13. He's happy to go sit there, instead of having me move. I kindly (think) say, "Oh that's so nice! No (f'ing way) thank you!" That empty seat next to me was MINE and I wasn't going to give it up. Despite the two time shuffle.
   
5. The baby? Was great. If she wasn't sleeping? She was smiling. Visual c.
   
6. An extra seat? It's divine.  Visual d.
   
7. By the end of the flight I wanted want to go around to all those that gave me dirty looks & go all "Big mistake. HUGE." w/ Pretty Woman gusto. She was amazing.
   
8. You know what was not amazing? The weirdo sitting next to us. He zipped himself up into his jacket. Um. Excuse me sir, but what the F?

More stories from the road, soon. I took notes on barf bags from the plane. Class act right here. Let's hope I can make sense of the rest.

Ending 2011 with the WORST Idea Ever

Alternative title: "This one time, when I begged for Tonya Harding to put me out of my misery..."

New Years Eve I thought I planned the cutest day, ever. We picked up lunch at a local sandwich shop which ROCKS the house. Fresh ingredients, delicious combinations: Fozzie's Sandwich Emporium, you complete me. It was a gorgeous day so we thought we would go to the park and have a little bit of a picnic before we headed to an outside ice skating rink. Can you handle the cuteness?

Then we accidentally sat in a wind tunnel.

After we scarfed down our delicious sandwiches (mostly because we needed to keep them from flying away) and chased freshly cut and made potato chips - it was off to go ice skating.

Nothing wrong with going skating with a 4 year old and an infant. No red flags there. No red flags thrown considering the ball & chain and I are what you would call allergic to athletics. Neither of us are graceful. Neither of us really know how to skate. So yeah, let's go do this thing, nothing is going to go wrong.

For the record? L LOVED "skating." That said, I'm not entirely sure she ever actually SKATED. She got on that ice quick and held on to the side, as I would. The thing is, whenever she let go of the side, she would start to flail like a flapper dancer and wipe-out, hard. NEVER crying. The alternative to this fish flailing on a line was a fun routine of her grabbing a hold of me.  Keep in mind, I'm not a skilled at anything athletic so I was barely standing upright as it was. At one point she almost managed to pull my holiday-too tight jeans down. That's a serious grasp.  She insisted on letting go of the wall every time she got her balance.  She refused to accept any help from me or anyone on the sidelines trying to give her with some instruction on how to stay upright. Stubborn does not begin to describe the scene. By minute 30, at which point we weren't yet way around the little rink, I started to hope that she WOULD fall hard enough to cry. Not hard enough to hurt herself (seriously), but enough that they would let us OUT of the little ring of hell.  Once you got going, the only way "out" was to go around. So yes, I may have welcomed a little bit of a scene. 

At one point, I could be heard saying, "We are never going to make it around alive."

Spoiler alert: We did (barely).

She loved it and when we (finally) got around, it was my lovely (sitting the whole time) husband's turn to go with her. He was with JJ who was blissfully asleep. The plan was to switch out. To put it lightly: He owes me.

L was sopping wet from all of her spills and I was fairly sure her legs were purple from all of her "skating."  I was afraid if they went - JJ & I would have to sacrifice them and leave without them, eventually. Plus, seriously, I needed to save my husband. He says he would have been fine but I seriously doubt it.  The role of mean mommy was played by yours truly and I said it was time to go. Of course THAT'S when she started to cry. To say this was my worst idea of 2011 is to put it lightly.

But OH how she LOVED it. Skating lessons will need to commence, but this girl? Me? I will NOT be skating anytime soon ever.

Be Careful What You Nag For

Tuesday
L, "Mama, how about we walk to school tomorrow?"
Me, "Sure thing! That'll be fun!"

Wednesday
L, "Mama, you forgot. We didn't walk to school!"
Me, "Oh I forgot! Tomorrow."
L, "Why'd you forget?"
Me, "That's how forgetting works - you just forget."
L, "Why?"
Me, "I don't know why I forgot - but that is what forget means - you accidentally don't do something or get something - because you forget."
L, "Why'd you forget though, Mama?"
Me, "I don't know. Tomorrow."
L, "Will you forget?"
Me, "I won't know until I do or if I do. Tomorrow, okay - it'll be fun."

Thursday
Me, "We don't have time to walk to school today, but I'll pick you up and we'll walk if I can leave early enough!"
L, "Will you forget?"
Me, "I don't think so - but you never know!"

Fast forward, 4 hours... I do not forget and pick her up - on time - at school.

L, "Did you walk here?"
Me, "I did!"
L, "Will I walk home?"
Me, "Yup - with me - that's how this works."

Fast forward, 2 hours and we finally see the door to our house.

L, "Maybe next time we take the car, Mama. Don't forget."
 

STL Surprises

We know nothing about St. Louis. In fact, the week we found out about the possibility of a relocation, we got our facts from RLTV. Retirement Living Television - apparently that is real thing. Google it. Don't believe me? I took a picture of the program we watched.  It's about retired people who bring you on a tour of where they grew up. Yup.  The good ol'Gateway to the West.

Of course we have some friends that have helped to point the way, but it's one thing to hear about it and watch it on the good ol' sound & picture box - and another thing to go there; experience it.

1. I. Loved. It. 
2. The people are nice. Not TOO nice or overwhelming sugary sweet - just nice freaking people.
3. The neighborhoods are distinct, different and each have their own personality. 
4. STL does have good Italian food. I know. I'm surprised. It's in a neighborhood called "The Hill."
5. The Hill is really just a slight incline with Italian flags marking territory and a boot shaped flower bed. Genius. 
6. The food is delish. Fresh produce? Everywhere. Well seasoned chicken, juicy delicious burgers, salad dressing that I can't even describe. I could go on. I can't; I'm getting hungry (again).
7. Holy hotness Batman, it was 80 the whole time. Super spring hotness.
8. The rental market is kill.er. 

The ball & chain tried to tell me some of this, he said I'd be pleasantly surprised - but frankly I thought he was looking at it all glass half full. Cheery & positive, in addition to his sense of humor and his killer cooking it's kind of what he's known for. You know what? He was right. I was totally surprised, beyond. And yes I told him that; just this once he wins.

Guarros Take Europe & UK: Day 1

It's been quite a whirlwind the past few weeks.  Last week, specifically was a big deal. We took a serious trip away with out the child.  It was the longest stretch of time we had ever been away.  Luckily Nana Lu & Uncle Ricky came to the rescue. They stayed at our house to keep L on her schedule, going to school and in her house while Mom & Dad left her arse and began to really and seriously cultivate her abandonment issues. It was a fantastic week away (Friday - Saturday), but it was also a hard one.  Between the time difference and not wanting to call TOO much we missed her horribly. The good news was she would at least talk to us on the phone (for seconds).  Very recently she wouldn't get on the phone with anyone. I'm glad she dropped that habit.

Here's our adventure broken up, because lord knows I have too much to say and I took WAY too many pictures.

Day 1: Arrive in Amsterdam in style! C travels. He travels a LOT. Most days it makes me crazy. This particular stretch of time, I was thinking it wasn't so bad.  This trip was brought to us by the very travel that exhausts us.  With all the points from flying and staying at Marriotts a majority of the trip was "free."  Nothing is free, of course, it was paid for with blood, sweat and tears of single parenthood while he is gone.   That and points.  Points for airlines and points for hotels.  Our Amsterdam accommodations (both times) were completely "free." Holl.ER.  Flying to Europe should only be done in business or first class, it turns out.  We're talking bottomless glasses, warm towels, snacks and meals.  Not to mention personal little space that folds out to a bed (a BED) and all the judgey looks you can handle from flight attendants.  We (usually) tend to (almost) get cut off - but it's worth it.  No seats in the bathroom when we travel for leisure.  Step one to a successful trip is to bump up, no question.

Once we got to Amsterdam, we explored as much as our weary selves could after a (way too long but definitely necessary) nap, checked out our hotel and made ourselves at home at our home base - the Club Lounge. Our first hotel, the Renaissance Amsterdam Hotel was where our adventure began.

Another perk of C traveling as much as he does is Club Lounge access. This means (depending on the hotel) usually very long, if not 24 hours, of free stuff. Mostly soda (lukewarm - more on that later), usually ice and sometimes beer, wine & snacks. Appetizers, desserts - good stuff over all.  In our first hotel there was a life line (free wi-fi). It was heaven.

The best part of our vacation was we didn't plan anything. We would strategise at certain points of the day to work out what was next - but along the way enjoy whatever we came upon.  Sometimes it would be at the hotel, sometimes at lunch or at a quick pit stop.

Regrouping & planning in the lounge

Day 1 for example, the guy who checked us into the hotel (awesome hotel - p.s.) told us the best thing to do first is to take a canal tour. Canal tour, we did.

We were one of the first people on the boat and thought we would take advantage and get a seat outside in the back, walking right past the HUGE sign(s) that stated there was "NO Explanation."  The more the front filled up and the back didn't we started to rethink what we thought originally was a real win. We finally READ the sign staring at us - and made our way back to the front. At this point, unfortunately, it was all about riding backwards down the canals. It didn't really matter, either way - it was amazing. Beautiful and we made it work.

During our next planning session, we figured out dinner. Oh glorious dinner at Lucius.  The picture doesn't do it justice - but so began pictures of dinner. I will do better next time, promise (to try).  Ladies and Gentleman... I present you with the sea.

For more photos you can check out day one. More on days 2 and beyond... later!