Friday, February 27, 2009
Pap left this morning, but the afterglow is keeping us warm and fuzzy. RD may be my all-time favorite houseguest; he just fits in seamlessly, arrives bearing food, makes his own coffee, laughs at my jokes and never tires of playing and hanging out with Gus, who just plain adores him and readily invited him into his inner circle of book readers...
Pap come back any time, ya hear? We'll stock the bathtub with trout, if necessary...
Monday, February 23, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
My friend Heather and I ran a 5K in Hendersonville this afternoon under a bright blue sky at a brisk 35 degrees. Aptly, the race is called the Frostbite 5K, put on by the Park Ridge Hospital, incidentially, the place where Heather's adorable son, Rion, was born 10 weeks ago - go Momma! (Whew I know, that's a run-on sentence if there ever was one...but I'm on a roll, afterglow and all)
She says she doesn't like to run, but I'm in awe of her for running a race so quickly after giving birth. We were the only two stroller Moms, so Rion and Gus won their age groups, 0-12 months and 12-24 months, respectively. Gus got lots of attention, which is what he enjoys. In fact, he always is kind of unhappy when he realizes the race/run is over....I guess we'll keep on moving and trudging on.
I'm still at a loss for words when I pass people, I know - from my own experience - that it's depressing when the lady with the stroller pulls ahead of you, but the competitor in me all the while screams at me "who cares about these people and their wussy feelings, go go go!"
So I do and then I feel a little bit bad, until I see another person ahead of me to pick off...Gus is into it too, all he has to do is point and we're off in hot pursuit.
Any suggestions for a polite little ditty I could holler at people instead of "watch out! We got wheels" (that's really what I say...I know, it's bad)
Did I mention that I love this stroller and the freedom and sanity it has given me?
Presenting: Gus on the potty...he loves it and sees it as his duty to visit it at least twice a day and do a tinkle, usually accompanied by us singing or reading a book. Note to grandmas: I might need your help to ween this child, but I think I can at least get him potty trained on my own.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Recipe for love:
- take adorable unfatiguable toddler cupid, fresh from sleep
- cuddle it with abandon, tell it you love it
-then dress it and dump it on unsuspecting and infinitely loving good friends who amazingly have agreed
to watch said cupid for 12 hours
- drive two hours, giddy just at wearing your ski clothes
- Purchase highly overprized lift tickets
- then sit back and enjoy the carnage on the slopes as you ride up the
300-yard-long lift (check out the ratio
of skiers down versus skiers up)
- laugh and ski, laugh and ski and repeat, as many times as possible.
I love you sweet, stylish, smooth husband of mine.
ahh...the mayhem near the ski rentals, the melee of staggering ski-booted people boarding the shuttle bus, the slushy and yet icy man-made snow laid out in skimpy ribbons of death, not to mention hordes of people with no discernible skiing skills happily hurling themselves down the mountain with no plans to stop...it all simply goes with out comparison...well, you could try to compare it to, say, skiing in Colorado, but that would be obvious...in fact, Jacob and I have come to agree that if we could take the Southern skiing scene to the well-groomed snowy slopes of Colorado, we would - and charge admittance. Because here in the South skiing is a lot funnier than anywhere else I've ever been.
Here are some of my favorite nuggets of the day:
- The guy slowly and carefully making his wedges down the mountain, his poles clamped securely under one arm to free up the ungloved hand on the other to enjoy the cigarette he needed to smoke to calm his nerves at the adventures ahead...his pack stuck out of the breast pocket of his camouflage coverall.
- The obviously relieved father pumping his fists over his head in triumph at having managed to get off the lift still on his skis...meanwhile his shrieking daughter - who had not fared as well- became the shrieking foundation of a solid ramp pile-up of least 3 people high before we lost sight of it.
- The guy in the stylish fleece North Face Jacket and Cabbelas hunting cap riding high on his head - style is strictly optional in a Southern ski resort
- At least three sightings of people skiing in jeans - JEANS!!! And one of them had a VERY wet butt
- The pouty Ashley Simpson-look-alike, who slid to a halting stop, after a painfully slow and seemingly frustrating descent on the shortest slope, briskly taking off her board and wordlessly trowing it at the feet of her equally pouty looking and only slightly better snowboarder wanna-be-dude boyfriend, then turning on her heels and wordlessly marching toward the lodge. Just one of the many well-meant Valentine's Day dates we saw go sour before our very eyes.
- Three black ladies - one in saggy pink sweatpants - purposefully walking down the slope with their skis and poles nilly-willy cradled in their arms. They looked like they had no intentions of ever putting their ski gear on...
Needless to say we laughed a lot (to ourselves) and skiied the two double-black-diamond runs (each at least 30 feet long) as others watched in hushed awe...
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
It makes me want to write this:
To a good home.
One 18-month-old, ice-water-veined, blond-and-blue-eyed mini-monster with deceptively sweet manners.
Loves to climb high and knows no hurt big enough not to try again. Lacks no confidence
but may be short on common sense. Amazingly apt to find ways to un-hinge any attempts at toddler-proofing his environment. Interested parties must have the mind of a toddler-felon and keen awareness to mischief happening behind their backs by the minute.
This child is not for the faint-hearted. Almost housebroken, extremly social and
easily entertained by passing cars, unattended toilet brushes and left-on computers.
This child will test your patience and stare you down in almost any contest.
Well maybe I'll just go and see if my friend Heather wants to trade me sweet little Rion for Gus.
Where has my sweet baby gone!!! Where I beg you!!!
Monday, February 9, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
...well, it's quite a sad story really...because....
...he is NOT OURS...!!!
I wish I could say we found him in the park and decided to keep him (my apologies, Maia, I'm not poking fun of you and Sloan) but every time I try to snatch him and run, his Mommie grabs him away from me...no regards for the long-suffering Toddler-Mom who finds herself weighing sleepless nights against rest-free days and feels slighted that babyhood lasts for about half a wink.
So let me properly introduce this little lad: his name is Rion, he is 11 lbs and plus/minus 22 inches and 6 weeks old. He is the offspring of my friends Heather and Richard, half-American, half-Newzealander, and quite possibly the cutest baby on the planet at this moment.
Seeing Rion sitting so happily on Jacob's lap makes my mind wander.....no, no...don't go there, I could never ever manage two....Gus would have to go live with his grandparents for most of the year...but still it's sweet to just hold and inhale and cuddle...
oh, no, I'm turning into a baby junkie!