6 years ago: today

6.years. I can't even believe it. I remember it clearly.

A week ago (6 years ago) I had ventured away from my usual lunch selection and added salmon to my salad. I was a frequent flyer at my office's salad bar. I got the same thing, every day. This one day, they offered salmon at the salad bar and I went for it. Salmon? Salad bar? Somebody call the salmonella police*.

Anyway, I had eaten this salmon in my salad and for days I was not the same.

Days.

And everyday, at some point in some way I would say, "Jesus. My stomach is not right." And after the first few times, one of my friends would make some comment about perhaps it wasn't the fish. Maybe I was knocked up.

People are predictable funny.  When you are at a ripe age and dating someone everyone asks, "when are you getting married?" After you get married, everyone asks, "when are you going to have kids?" Once you have a kid, everyone asks, "when are you going to have another?" At this point, the ball&chain had locked down our forever contract for 4 months. I was used to the "when are you going to a baby" question.

My friend's persistent "maybe you are knocked up" to my persistent "I'm never having salmon again" was starting to get to me. It was a Friday night, and as per usual, I met friends after work for many some drinks. She had said "knocked up" one too many times. It was like her voice was echoing in my head as I stumbled walked home. There was a pharmacy en route to my final destination. I stopped in and picked up a test, to finally put the "knocked up" comments to rest. We weren't trying, but we weren't not trying. Let's just lock this down so I can be at peace, her voice echoing in my head was getting to me.

I came home and the ball&chain was sitting on the couch. I walked past him, said I had to go the bathroom. I did. But I also had to pee on a sick. I did. I had to put the "knocked up" comments to rest. I didn't.

I.was.knocked.up. And kinda buzzed.

I proceed to freak out and the ball&chain who was not expecting this was first beyond confused and then beyond concerned as I started to problem solve our way out of this.

Me, "Wait. The line isn't all the way - it's faded! That must mean something."
Him, as he reads the instructions: "It says, the clarity of the line doesn't matter. If it kind of shows up, it's positive."
Me, "Wait! I've had a few beers. Maybe alcohol changes the accuracy!"
Him, as he reads the instructions: "It says, While alcohol and illegal drugs do not affect pregnancy test results, remember that you should NOT drink alcohol or use illegal drugs if there is any possibility you could become pregnant."
Me,"FFFFUUUUCCCCCKKKK!!!!!"

6 years ago today, I have never been more surprised. Surprised isn't even the word. 6 years ago today, I found out my life was about to change. Forever. And never had I ever gotten the reaction so right.

"FFFFUUUUCCCCCKKKK!!!!!"**

*Sure, salmonella is apparently connected to chicken, but whatever. "Salmon" is in salmonella, let's go with it.
**In the most loving way, possible.  

The day I was on time for school...

Disclaimer: If you follow me on the twitter or the 'book - my apologies. This is a rerun for you. I debated, do I tell this story again? The answer is yes. 

Wednesday was the first day back to work. I didn't take a lot of time off this holiday season, but enough. I was excited to get back into the routine, finish out this week with a strong start to the 2013. That was the plan.

The best laid plans. ALWAYS with the plans.

To start, I had a super busy day, a ton to do. Whenever I take time off, there is always catch up but particularly around holidays. I never finish it all before I sign off, and I always have a long list to do when jumping back in. Imagine my joy {sarcastic font} when I get a phone call from our au pair saying she missed her bus back to the Cleve. She went away for NYE. She was going to be home super late Tuesday night or super early Wednesday morning - however you want to break it down. The moral of the story is: she was going to be home by the time my work day started. With this curve ball, she'd be late - coming in around 11:30 - 12pm. I could work around that. But the morning; the morning is tough. It's one thing to get the kid ready, but add to that bringing JJ along it just requires more. More organization, more rushing, more scrambling, more chaos. I know, moms & dads all across America get their kids out the door everyday - but it's a pain in the ass. It's even worse when you are out of practice for a school day. School days add to it a whole other level of things to remember.

Is it gym day? She has to wear sneakers. Is it library day? Don't forget the book. Don't forget the lunch. And the drink. And the backpack. And the school folder she has to bring in everyday. Gloves. Mittens. Hat. FREAKING SO MUCH.

We are almost always late. Running to catch the bell & line up, or worst case scenario running in before they start their first class. So this fine day, with the amount of work I had to do, I also had to race the clock with two kids and get L to school. And it was gym & library day, so double the preparation.

We get on the road (for the 10 minute walk, 3 minute car ride... it's almost always the car ride - see previous comment about almost always being late) and we are going to be on time! I am Mother of the Year! 2013... I'm coming for you!

We get a wee bit closer to school and I suddenly am acutely aware that there is no one walking to school. There are no cars parked. The parking lots are free and clear of cars.

School.is.closed.

I immediately pull over and check out the school's website. Yup. Winter Break... through this week.

Follow up to this/ cause this wasn't the end... our au pair's flight got further delayed. I lost track of how many times. She took a train home, got off the wrong stop, had to walk who knows how long, and when she tried to call me her phone died. 2 hours later (14 hours after originally expected) a frozen Colombian who walked into the house after a who knows how long walk, in the snow & cold, with luggage. I'd say it was a pretty bag up day for us all. 

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.