Archer's Birth Story

Ever since Silas came at 37+5, I was positive I’d go early again, even if I tried to tell myself otherwise. So from the moment I got a positive pregnancy test and estimated due date of March 11, I thought right away that I would probably have a leap day baby. After all, the timing was practically perfect. When else would I be 38 and a few days on a leap day?

Well, my little baby will celebrate a birthday yearly. Archer came just two days before his due date, on March 9th. I had been working my whole pregnancy, and the Sunday before I gave birth was the first time I had to call in due to a long day of practice contractions and not being able to sleep during the day (I work night shift). Luckily, I felt better the next day, and went in to work as normal, not knowing it would be my last shift.

Silas was on spring break that week, so when I got home from work, exhausted, I had to stay up to take care of him. No worries, I had planned for this. We played in the morning, watched some TV so I could rest, and I napped during his nap. Still, getting to bed that night was a wonderful feeling, even if I had been having trouble sleeping for ages now.

Sometime around six, I woke up and realized I was having contractions. I don’t know how I knew these were different from practice contractions, but they reminded me of period cramps and seemed somewhat regular, though I was half asleep and not about to time them. An hour later, as Smiley got up to go to work, I told him I was contracting a little.

“I’m not going to have the baby any time soon,” I said. “But we’re going to have a baby today.”

A Nursing Student's Schedule

You might have noticed that I haven't posted anything in, oh, say, ages.

You might also have noticed that my last post date coincides with the time I started up my nursing classes. It's been busy. But don't worry. In case you were thinking about going to nursing school with a small child, husband and two furry dogs, let me show you what your potential daily calander might look like!

4:30am - 5:00 am: Wake up. Sometimes because your kid is calling out for you, sometimes because your husband is snoring, and sometimes because your body knows you're going to have to wake up soon anyhow and figures the extra minutes of sleep aren't that important.

They are that important. I hate you, body.

5:30 am: Stop delaying the inevitable and get out of bed after trying to convince yourself that your small toddler will have a change of heart and stop jumping on you and go back to his room and sleep for another hour. It will never happen. Even on the days that he jumps under the covers and says, "I want to cuddle with you mommy!" You will say "aw" and then he will try to stick a spit-covered finger in your ear.

It's not always like that though. Sometimes he tries to put that finger in your nose.

5:30am - 7:30am: Wonder where the morning goes. It's been two hours. How have I barely managed to get myself and a toddler dressed? Where did I put breakfast? Why didn't I make my lunch last night like I swore I was going to in an effort to avoid this? And seriously, the play room was practically clean last night. How can one toddler play with so many toys in such a short period of time?

7:30am: Kiss your husband bye and tell your son you'll pick him up at daycare later. Feel guilty that you won't be there with him all day as you tear through the house grabbing everything you think you'll need for the day. (Pro tip: You'll always forget at least one item, and you'll always swear you're going to start packing your backpack the night before to break this cycle.)

8:00am: Classes start. Pay attention and try desperately to decipher what, exactly, is therapeutic about asking someone if they've "considered suicide."

10:00am: Open lab time! Feel ridiculous as you explain what you're about to do to a silent yet judging mannequin.

11:00am: Time for lunch and flashcards. Boy, do I hope you like flashcards. They're the best. You can do flashcards in between classes, flashcards in the car (when someone else is driving) and sometimes, flashcards while you're waiting for your online set of flashcards to load.

12:00pm - 4:00pm: More classes. Interesting lectures and information, but sometimes your classmates will ask really, really odd questions. Best to just leave it be.

4:00pm - 5:00pm: Time to study! And also to do dishes, clean up the living room and wonder if you've vacuumed in the past three weeks, make sure there's at least one clean pair of underwear for everyone for tomorrow, and don't forget about letting the dogs out and playing with them for a bit and maybe thinking about starting dinner. I think breathing is in there somewhere, but I always forget where.

5:00pm: Ok. Time to get Silas. I feel guilty as heck that I let him stay at daycare while I was technically at home the past hour and technically able to watch him. Then I feel even more guilty because I know he's better off at daycare for that hour because at least there, someone is interacting with him instead of telling him to go play while I study.

5:30pm-7:30pm: Seriously, how does two hours go by so fast? Somehow, dinner was made and eaten, toys were played with (and even cleaned up to some degree!), dogs were chased by a screeching toddler and a screeching toddler was chased by his own shadow. Did he have a bath yesterday? Yeah, I think so. He can have a bath tomorrow night before bed then. Good night, Silas.

7:30pm-9:30pm: How am I supposed to fit seven classes worth of studying into two hours of time? It's not really possible. Slight panic ensues for ten minutes, followed by five minutes of berating myself for wasting time by panicking. Study like a mad woman, make a lot of flash cards, consider packing a lunch and getting your stuff together but decide that you're too tired to do that, seriously, your eyes feel like they're packed with sand, and go to sleep instead.

9:30pm-10:00pm: Optional bonus! Actually spend time with your husband and both enjoy knowing you're there for each other and regret your decision because Silas is so not sleeping in tomorrow morning.

So there you have it! Your mileage may vary. And I hear it helps if you can consume caffeine (it gives me some serious heart issues in moderate amounts, so I have to opt out most of the time). And I guess I could technically cut into my sleeping time, but I am pretty sure if I were any less rested, I just wouldn't retain any information.

Plus, I'm having a lot of fun. I think.

I'll get back to you in a year about that.

Happy Thanksgiving!

School time!

For the first time since 2009, I'm enrolled in 18 credit hours for this fall and let me tell you - it makes a difference when those 18 credit hours are in nursing classes as opposed to five English classes and one 200 level German class. We're three days into the semester and I've already studied for over twelve hours. So, yeah, it's kind of insane, but the good kind. And all of this means that Silas is now in daycare full-time.

Silas is taking to daycare like a dog to a ham bone. What I'm saying is, he really likes it. Today as we were driving home, he informed me that he "played dinosaurs today!" and that, in case I didn't know, dinosaurs go "rawr!!"

Two nights ago, I was vacuuming Silas's room and he asked me to put him in the crib; sometimes he likes to stand in the crib and watch me vacuum. He lay down on his pillow and when I was done, he asked me to turn off his light. Then he just went to sleep, and he slept until the next morning. I was so excited at the idea of daycare helping him sleep better.

So of course, last night he was up at midnight until 1:30 and then up again at 5. I actually had a dream that I was sleeping and in the dream I woke up and complained that the mattress was too hard. Then I woke up for real and realized that I had fallen asleep on the nursery floor. My back is still a little stiff.

Anyhow, I have to get back to studying. I have a feeling this is just a first week information flood and that things will mellow out (slightly) in the coming weeks, but there's no sense in getting behind before I even get started.

And you know what's weird? This time next year, I'll have my second bachelor's degree. I'll be a nurse. Seeing as I can't even properly use my stethoscope yet, it seems unbelievable. But I believe in myself, if nothing else.

On Top of Things

It's not often I feel like an adult. Sometimes I realize my birthday is coming up and that I'm going to be 26 this year and it makes me pause for a moment. The last thing I remember, I was graduating college like, yesterday.

There's no way I already have an almost two year old baby. I remember the day I told Smiley I was pregnant while covering my stomach with a pillow. It feels like last week. I told him right over by our kitchen counter. I had taken three pregnancy tests.

But here I am, adulting it up like a pro. Balancing our budget and raising Silas to be one darned awesome baby (are you detecting a little bias there? Whoops!) and prepping to start nursing school this fall. (Oh, and writing a lot of fanfiction. If you're wondering why I haven't posted here in forever, that's why. Every free moment of my life has been fanfiction for this past month.)

Why, this morning, I made four phone calls. That's right, count 'em - four. I made a vet appointment for Sophie, scheduled car maintenance for the weekend, called my Ob/gyn to get my records and called my regular doctor to schedule my physical. You just don't see that kind of call output from me normally, but here I am, getting all of my ducks in a row before I go up north with Silas for a family visit before school starts.

Did I mention I also watched my lecture for my summer class and wrote three hundred words for my fanfic? All of this - and more (and by more, I mean eating a greek yogurt and drinking some ice water like a BAMF) was accomplished during Silas's nap. Whew. It's exhausting being an adult you guys. I think I'm going to embrace this whole being an adult and go to bed early.

That's how it works, right?

Blankets! All The Blankets!

The other day, I told Silas to come to his room and sit by his giant stuffed giraffe and I would nurse him there. I went down the hall ahead of him and sat down in his room. A moment passed and I noticed him going into my room instead.

"Wait, Silas," I called out, "I'm in your room, not my room."

A few moments later, I heard him start to cry - not in pain, but in frustration. I got up to go check on him and found a rather hilarious - and touching - sight.

I should backtrack a moment. Ever since Silas has understood the concept of blanket, he has had a method of letting me know he wants to nurse; he would go to my room and sit on the bed and when I sat next to him, he would give me a blanket. He's too sweet.

So when I looked into my room, I saw the reason for his frustration - Silas was trying to pull the whole blanket off of the bed and drag it to his room and it was just a little bit too big for him to manage. There he was, all tangled in blanket and trying so hard to bring it to me.

He stared up at me with tears in his eyes. "Blankie," he said, giving the blue cloth another futile tug.

"Oh sweetie!" I said, because what else could I say? I thanked him for trying to get the blanket, helped him put it back on the bed and showed him how his room already had a blanket that we could use.

I realized that he grown to associate nursing with blankets because, well, we spent the whole winter nursing under layers and layers of blankets to keep warm. Now that it's a bit warmer out, the blanket isn't strictly necessary, but he does smile so brightly when he hands me a blanket that I can't say no.

When The Party Ends

Dear lovely blog readers,

Enjoy a short piece of fiction. This was written from the prompt: "1st person POV after a party."

The events are not exactly based on a true story but I think it's safe to say I've borrowed elements from true stories.

When The Party Ends

It was my party and I was going to cry if I wanted.

Amidst my keening wails, the tall lady with blonde hair that was most definitely not my mom tried to pick me up out of my mostly comfortable stroller. I cried harder, making sure to add a pitiful little gasping sound when I stopped to catch my breath.

It worked. My mom appeared in front of me and I was so happy that I reached out to show her how much I loved her by grabbing the trailing end of her ponytail and pulling as hard as I could.

"Ouch!" she gasped. I think that means "I love you too!"

You Say "Bag", I Say "Bag"

The past week of 90 degree highs confirms that summer has a firm grip on Florida and will not be letting go for a few very long months.

Summertime means park time and park time means I am once again reminded that I am not from around here.

Silas and I were playing near the slides when another group of kids showed up. Silas's go-to friendship gesture is to grab a big handful of wood chips and bring them to the new people.

One of the older boys, perhaps about ten, looked at me and asked, "What is he doing?"

"He's trying to share some wood chips with you," I responded as I brushed the chips out of Silas's hand, telling him that not everyone wants to hold onto wood chips.

"What are woodchips?" the boy asked next, and I blinked, so he clarified. "You mean the mulch?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Wood chips are another name for mulch."

What I didn't say is that where I came from, the term "mulch" was much more closely related to fertilizer as a term. And to be clear, when I say fertilizer, I'm thinking of manure. Feces. You know? Yuck. I thought about how I had never heard "mulch" used in conjunction with a playground growing up. And then I remembered something that had happened several months ago.

A friend had taken Silas to the park while I was taking an exam. Later, when I picked him up, she apologized. "He only wanted to sit down in the mulch and play! Luckily, they had just put down clean mulch, if that helps."

I had been slightly confused, wondering what the definition of clean manure meant. I trusted her judgement and figured Silas had not been harmed. I joked about how he'd have to build his immune system some day. Then I went on with my life completely unaware that I had experienced a communication error until just now.

The Difference Between Splits and Spit is an "L"

I want to be able to do the splits, but I don't have the patience to stretch daily.


There's something about the lack of immediate results that greatly affects my ability to push through a tedious task. Trust me, I know it's a personality flaw.

Silas recently started learning to spit. At first I was thrilled, because we were brushing our teeth and he was trying to imitate me; a great next step for him in his own personal care.

Then he realized that this wonderful trick could be applied to everything he put in his mouth. Now he was chomping onto toys and spitting them out. Now he was taking big sips of water and spraying it on the floor, nearly choking on his laughter.

I know that I have to be patient. It will take many explanations that we spit in the sink while brushing, but not on the floor while drinking. There will be messes. I get Silas to help clean up his messes in an attempt to gently rebuke him (but the kid really likes blotting up spills with paper towel so I'm worried this might encourage him).

Just like the splits, I know I have to work with Silas every day as he learns to navigate the basic activities we take for granted (brushing our teeth, using the toilet, putting on clothes). All of these have a vague starting point and a defined ending point, but the steps in between are brutally slow going and the day to day changes are essentially non existent. Only when I stop to think back to a few months ago do I realize how far Silas has come in any of his skills.

I am not a particularly patient person - I am all about the destination rather than the journey - but hopefully teaching Silas will help me to change my viewpoint. And maybe one day, I'll look back to a time when I thought I was incapable of doing the splits.

Maybe.

A Breakfast Tale

Every morning, I offer Silas a choice for breakfast, usually between eggs and hot cereal. Sometimes he picks eggs, sometimes he goes for the cereal. Sometimes he just asks for chocolate milk, please.

This morning he picked hot cereal and as I stood over the stove, waiting for the milk to heat up, he started bawling. Just out-of-nowhere crying as though his little heart was breaking in two. I stooped down to give him a hug and ask him what was wrong.

He looked at me through tear-filled eyes and sniffled. "Green beans!" he told me, his expression suggesting that I was depriving him of the one thing in the world he wanted.

"I'm not making green beans," I said, assuming he was confused about what was in the saucepan. "I'm making malt-o-meal on the stove."

"No! Green beans!" he wailed plaintively, the tears starting up again as he flung himself at me, burying his head on my chest and hugging me as he cried.

Long story short, I heated up a can of green beans and served them to my smiling toddler who, by the way, proceeded to dip them in his hot cereal as if this was the most natural combination of foods.

Time To Talk About Frozen

(Spoilers will show up in the following post)!

Frozen is a great movie filled with amazing songs, love experts, and horrible parenting. But we'll get back to that third one in a minute.

In case you need a quick background - Elsa and Anna are sisters and close friends until Elsa accidentally hurts Anna with her ice powers. The king brings Anna to the trolls and they are able to save her, but in return, they caution Elsa about her powers. When Elsa runs away from the kingdom, Anna teams up with Kristoff, Sven and Olaf to go after her.

So let's get to the songs. You guys, it is beautiful. The movie is just jam-packed with catchy (and occasionally heartbreaking) songs. There's just music everywhere and I love it. Of course, everyone has heard about "Let It Go," but "Do You Want to Build a Snowman?" and "First Time In Forever" are also quite wonderful songs that set the tone of the movie - hope and excitement mixed with loss, sadness and fear.

Even the goofy duet between Anna and her love interest Hans ("Love is an Open Door") is great. The two characters sing about how they're so in love that they finish each others sandwiches. (The song opens with Anna saying, "Can I say something crazy?" and Hans replying, "I love crazy!" to give you an idea of their courtship.)


But of course, the silliest song moment goes to Olaf the snowman. Olaf's biggest wish is to feel heat for the first time. Kristoff says, "I'm guessing you don't have much experience with heat" and Olaf responds with a show-stopping full song-and-dance routine to show his anticipation for "when I finally find out what frozen things do in summer!"

Olaf the snowman is only one of the many love experts in the movie; Kristoff also knows a few of them - he and Sven grew up with the trolls. And the trolls are indeed love experts. They have a great song called "Fixer Upper" in which they sing a few of my favorite lines to Anna:

"We're not saying you can change him
Because people don't really change ...
People make bad choices if they're mad
Or scared or stressed.
Throw a little love their way
And you'll bring out their best!"

These lines speak about accepting people for who they are and understanding that when people feel accepted and loved, they're more likely to respond in kind. No, this doesn't work in extreme cases, but in general, it's a great philosophy.

And later, Olaf reveals exactly what makes him a love expert. When he starts a fire to save Anna's life, he sits down with her. Anna tells him to move so he won't melt and he smiles up at Anna, telling her that, "some people are worth melting for." He explains how love is about making other people a priority and understanding when their needs are more important than your own needs. He also moves away from the fire before he melts completely to show that you don't need to ignore your own needs completely.

Unfortunately, that brings us to Elsa and Anna's parents, who do not understand what their children need at all. After Elsa accidentally hurts Anna, they decide the best course of action is to reduce their staff, close the gates to the castle and never let Elsa see Anna again. This is done under the idea that isolating Elsa will help her learn to control her power. I mostly have to ignore this part of the movie, because it makes me want to scream. Yes, deal with your daughter's powers by making her spend her days alone, unable to play like a little girl or feel close to anyone. Does that sound like the start of a supervillain to you? In Elsa's case, she only accidentally freezes the kingdom into an eternal winter, but plenty of honest-to-goodness supervillains have done less.

Meanwhile, this leaves Anna to grow up alone and unable to make other friends since the castle gates are closed off. She sings about how "it gets a little lonely, all these empty rooms" and how she's "started talking to the pictures on the wall." This, also, sounds like a less than ideal upbringing. And her loneliness is highlighted in the way that she agrees to marry basically the first guy who looks at her.

Their parents aren't the only ones who deserve the blame though. Those danged trolls, the so-called love experts, could have sang their song about love for the king and queen instead of waiting fifteen years later to sing it to Anna. The whole climax of the movie is based on the idea that true love will thaw a frozen heart. That love can thaw. This is literally what Elsa says as she lifts her arms up and manages to unfreeze everything. Based on Anna sacrificing her life for her (It's ok. She gets better), Elsa realizes she is loved and instantly gains control over her powers.

Uh.

I'm not saying the king and queen didn't love Elsa. I'm just saying that the whole movie shouldn't have happened because the trolls should have sang their song about love at the beginning of the movie instead of the middle. (But I guess the trolls didn't pass the love expert boards until sometime during Elsa's exile at home. They could have sent the king and queen a singing telegram!)

Obviously I'm willing to overlook this questionable plot point in order to enjoy the parts of the movie that excel - the great songs, the fun characters and the exciting scenes. I've already watched Frozen several times and it is dangerously close to Mulan as my favorite Disney movie. Silas asks to watch Frozen daily, even weeks after he saw it last. Parents can highlight the part about accepting others when they watch the movie with their kids. And I will sing along to every song without one iota of shame.

The Orientation Blues

You guys - I am going to be attending my fourth college orientation this coming May. How exciting is that?

Oh, wait, you can hear the sarcasm in that previous statement, right?

Thankfully, as a transfer student, I only need to attend a single day of orientation - from 8am to 5pm. I'm, uh - I'm sure I'll learn a lot of new things about going to college that I totally didn't know before. After three other colleges, I feel like I could sign some sort of a waiver: "I promise to read the student handbook and to show up to classes. Please just let me sign up for the one class I would like to take this summer without having to find a full day of child care." (And don't confuse this session of orientation with my two day orientation for nursing school coming up at the end of the summer. I suspect that orientation will actually be very helpful.)


But I'll be fair. A single day of orientation is hardly the stuff of angsty ballads. If this was a new job, I'd expect orientation and be annoyed if I didn't have a chance to learn the layout of the office and their policies and procedures. Of course, a job doesn't require a $35 payment plus a $7 convenience fee for the mandatory orientation.

I'll just be over here, making annoyed noises every so often until it's all over.

Why Checking the Weather Makes Me Sad

Listen, just like your grandpa, I enjoy checking the weather multiple times a day to see what's going on with the clouds and sun. Once upon a time, I might have relied on The Weather Channel for this information. That was a simpler time, I'll admit. I only had to turn on the TV and wait for the forecast to roll through, along with some gentle commercials about stool softeners and diabetes.

As with all things, the internet changed this for the better several years ago. Now instant weather information was available at a moment's notice. Forecasts could be reviewed for the day ahead or even the week ahead, without having to wait for the top of the hour. This was a glorious period of time, a stint of years that I remember fondly, like an old dog.

Then IT happened.

I should have known that even www.weather.com would not be safe from the all-encompassing claws of SEO and link bait headlines. Now when I go to check the forecast, I have to avert my eyes from news headlines like "20 year old found dead" and "Rescuers rush to save baby on sailboat!"

Look. When I just want to see if it's going to be cloudy and will I need a jacket, I don't want to catch up on the news, especially not sensationalist news items that make me really sad. Checking the weather might make me unhappy if the forecast is extra cold or extra stormy, but up until now, it has never made me sad. The weather was a safe spot on the internet and on TV, where information was simply presented without preamble and for a few minutes, the sad tragedies of the world could be forgotten in a swirl of maps and dew points and chances of rain.

But no longer. And for that, I say - shame on you, internet. Shame.

Making Rolls

Rolls are just the best. And I'm sad to say, I have yet to perfect a roll recipe that provides results as good as some store-bought versions. (It's a personal failure!) But that could change. Today, I am making rolls. Actually, I'm in the process of making them right now!

The problem I come across in my roll recipe is that, like most delicious and yeasty baked goods, there is a lot of time devoted to letting the dough rise. I, however, tend to think about making rolls at most three hours in advance. Considering that's the time the dough needs to rise, and then add the time needed for mixing, kneading, shaping, and baking, I'm usually left with two options. One, don't make rolls. That's a stupid option. Two, be satisfied with rolls that needed to rise at least another hour longer. This option is a little less stupid, because there are rolls in the end, but they don't taste super great.

Today though - today is glorious! After putting Silas down for his nap, I went into the kitchen at noon and began to make rolls. The dough is rising now as I type. With any luck, they'll be ready just in time for dinner. (I think I'm going to tackle homemade sloppy joes, because why not?)

You might notice that I seem a bit hyped up right now. This is a reasonable observation. Not only did I go to sleep at nine pm last night, Silas didn't wake up until five am, which means I got a solid chunk of sleep. AND, after nursing, he went back to sleep for a couple hours, which means I got some catch-up slumber. AND THEN, I had a cup of iced coffee (the caffeinated type).

So yeah, I feel unstoppable right now. And jittery. Just a little bit jittery.

Monkey Baby!

Silas is quickly catching on to this concept of "climbing everything with no regard for his own personal safety" and guys, it's freaking me out. I'm going to blame his father for this one as he has regaled me with tales of climbing buildings in his younger years.

Although... I do remember a time in high school that I climbed a two-story tall pine tree simply because some friends suggested that I would not be able to do it, so maybe I'm not the best example either.

Babies Learning Language

It is ridiculous how many curse words a baby knows these days.

Silas learned how to say "foxes," for example. The first twenty times, it sounded much more like he was dropping F bombs left and right (and up and down for good measure). He kept pointing to the fox on the shirt he was wearing each time he said it, which helped calm my frazzled nerves. I figured if anyone in public heard him, I could quickly clear up any confusion.

Then Silas learned how to say "cook." Only, it sounded like he was crudely referencing the male genitalia. He tried to mimic me stirring a pot on the stove, though, and eventually his pronunciation got better.

Shirt was another tough one. Silas was more than happy to hand me any of his t-shirts or onesies while dropping the "r" in the word. (This, too, has gotten better over time.)

I think learning to talk is a cruel prank sometimes. On the one hand, when Silas busts out a perfectly innocent swear, I want to laugh because it is cute and adorable that he has no clue what he is doing. On the other hand, toddlers thrive on making others laugh and while the swearing child on TV might be hilarious, I don't think it's as funny in real life.

Luckily, when I type about it on the internet, I can laugh as much as I want and he doesn't know. Then he only thinks I'm crazy. Which may or may not be a good trade off.

A Progression of Google Searches

I was all set to wear a cutesy dress tonight and while Silas napped, I thought to myself that I should attempt a fancy-type hairstyle. This is what happened next:

Search One: Braided Chignon

Search Two: Updos for long hair

Search Three: Updos for really long hair

Search Four: Updos for long, thin hair

Search Five: Hairstyle ideas

Search Six: How to use a bobby pin

Search Seven: Seriously, bobby pins are impossible to use

Search Eight: How to pixie hair cut at home

No, I didn't cut off all of my hair, but it was tempting. You can see my searches degrade from a specific style I was hoping to recreate to increasingly desperate attempts to find updos suited to my hair.

Once I decided on a fairly simple bun, I quickly realized that I have a bobby pin deficiency. This prompted my realization that maybe I am not meant to have long hair. Other people with long hair always seem to be able to twirl their hair up and pin it perfectly in one easy motion. I was still jamming bobby pins frantically into my quickly unraveling hair when Silas woke up from his nap.

Things My Baby Has Found At The Park

I need to start taking pictures to document this. I always thought that the park was fairly clean until Silas took to finding things.

The last time we were there, Silas found:

Half-eaten cheetos (they were half-eaten at the time of finding and we threw those out before they became fully eaten cheetos)
Pink and blue balloon shreds
One super moldy orange slice (Half hidden beneath a slide, I can only assume a thrifty child left it there for safekeeping)
A safety pin
A beer cap (budweiser. Yuck.)
Various candy wrappers (manufacturers, rest assured that you have designed packages so appealing that Silas can spot them even if they are 99% buried under leaves)

And my personal "favorite,"
A two-inch screw.

Everything else on my list makes sense. Those are things that people bring to parks. But a screw?

A Trip to the Park

Though Silas is not quite old enough to use park equipment yet, he and I enjoy going to the park for a change of scenery. Plus, he likes to try to climb on everything when there's no one around.

We headed out to the park on a cool Thursday, Silas dressed up warmly in his adorable fox printed sweater onesie and me in double sweatshirts and fuzzy socks. I had forgotten that Thursday is homeschool meeting day at the park; the normally empty playground was overrun by boys and girls of all ages.

Silas was in baby heaven! Right when we got out of the car, he saw kids on the baseball field playing kickball. He pointed, "Football! Football!"

"Not quite, baby," I said, putting him down on the sidewalk. He ran up to the fence and watched in awe as one boy kicked the ball through a puddle and another ran after it, tossing the ball back towards first base.

The next twenty minutes were spent with Silas walking around the park, looking at everyone and everything. He picked up various sticks, comparing each new one against the two he was currently carrying and discarding appropriately. He found a little pink bouncy ball and tried to kick it, but kept missing due to its small size. He found no less than six scraps of garbage and insisted on picking up each one to throw out, except for the airheads wrapper. He wanted to chew on that one and was a little bit upset that I threw it out for him.

At some point, a person walked by with their dog. Silas alternated between shouting "dog" and freezing in place, too excited to actually go up to the dog, which admittedly was about three times bigger than our tiny pups. Eventually he made it to the dog and gave her a few tentative pats, complete with giant smiles.

Then he was off to watch another bout of kickball, followed by jaunts towards the puddle (while saying "no puddle, no puddle") and attempts to reach the sand ("no sand, no sand"). Can you guess what I was telling him every time he got too close to either?

Eventually, Silas ran into a little girl about his age. She was toddling around in her warm pajamas and Silas lit up when he saw a baby so close in age. He started by making a peace offering, giving her the stick that he had deemed worthy of being held almost all afternoon. She grinned and took the stick.

"Leaf!" Silas said as he handed the little girl the fistful of leaves he had picked up a few minutes ago.

She took the leaves and gave them to her mom, then turned back to Silas.

Silas starting picking up leaves from the ground, presenting each one to the little girl with an enthusiastic, "Leaf! Leaf!" The little girl happily took each leaf, handing them one at a time to her mom. Every fifth leaf or so, her mom would toss a handful of leaves back onto the ground. Our kids were clearly stuck in a leaf loop, which was broken only when the little girl's older sibling came by to say that another kid needed help with his shoes. Then they were off towards the other equipment.

After that, Silas wandered around a bit more, but he was beginning to slow down and people were starting to set up tables and whatnot and I figured we'd get out of the way for now. We headed back to the car, Silas holding on tightly to a handful of leaves. Another successful park day.

A Long Morning

Silas has picked a new favorite book for now, "Go, Dog! Go!" and he likes to call it the "Go go doggie book." This is great except when I try to put him down for a nap and he starts to get all sleepy and then jumps back up in his crib yelling, "Doggie! Doggie! Book! Gogogogogo!"

Luckily, I'm finally hearing an absence of "doggies, sleepy doggies, hello doggies" from his room, so it MIGHT be safe to assume he's went down for his nap.

Maybe.

Adventures in South Florida

Silas and I went on a mini-vacation down to south Florida to visit some friends. The five hour car trip is now officially the longest distance I have driven with Silas by myself. It wasn't even that bad. On the way down, he was on the cusp of a nap for about two hours, and kept crying out "nurse please!" but when I did stop, he was too excited by the trip to actually nurse. Oh well.

He doesn't sleep very well when we're traveling, so our days became sort of weird. Normally we're up by seven-thirty on a good day. He decided to bring that back about an hour and a half. And once he was awake, he woke up our friend's kid too. So we would have breakfast, let the kids play for a bit, head to the park, let them run around for awhile, get back home and it would still only be ten in the morning!

The first day down, we headed into Ft. Myers proper to see the Edison Festival of Lights. The parade was billed as an amazing nighttime parade and there were people lining the streets so thickly that the kids wouldn't have been able to see anything. Apparently people go down and tape off sections of the sidewalk up to a week in advance to get a spot.

But here's the thing. The parade kind of sucked.

I don't know how they do paraded by you, but where I'm from, a parade starts within five minutes or so of the start time and proceeds in an orderly fashion - you have your fire trucks and police cars and high school bands and cute floats, interspersed with Shriners on tiny motorcycles and the occasional baton twirling brigade.

This parade was supposed to start at seven. At seven, one single police car raced through the street. Silence. Ten minutes later, there were a few marching color guards. Ten minutes later, there were more fire trucks and police cars than I've ever seen in a parade before. Maybe I'm a buzzkill, but to me, three or four of each is sufficient to wow the children and start a parade. They had a small fleet of ten to fifteen of each.

Then another ten minute wait. Then another color guard and some cheesy floats and some politicians in cars. Since it was dark out, it was hard to see who was who and why they were there.

The highlight of the parade was seeing the Clydesdale horses. They were amazingly huge and followed by some ponies that looked like Sophie and Sherlock in comparison.

After that, we ended up leaving. The fireworks were nice though and walking around downtown had been pleasant.

The next day was a jet-setting kind of day. After hitting the parks in the morning, we made cookies and headed to the neighborhood luau (where we later learned up to 100 people had attended). Between me and my friend and our two kids, we probably brought the mean age down to, oh, fifty. But don't get me wrong - everyone was nice to us. We sat by an inflatable palm tree and Silas refused to wear his lei and we cheered on some people playing cornhole.

From there, we realized it was already four in the afternoon and it was a mad dash to the Greek festival to see the dancing and get some baklava. The kids were less impressed by this, so we didn't stay long, but it was still fun.

The best day was Monday. We went to the aquarium and the beach. There was a slight hitch to our plans - none of us realized it was President's day, so the aquarium and the beach were significantly more crowded.

At the aquarium, Silas enjoyed looking at all of the different sea creatures. His favorites were the manatees and the clown fish. For some reason, when he saw the clown fish, he had to point to each one and say "fish!" even though we had passed by many other fish already. There was also an area with giant plastic models of some coral and fish (they were ten times bigger than life-sized) and Silas stared up in awe at the towering coral.

We packed up and headed towards the beach near noon. Oh, the beach. Our first indication that we were screwed came about the time we pulled into the parking lot and realized that every spot was full and every row was full of lines of cars waiting for a spot to open up. We were optimistic at first, but by the third time a parking spot opened up JUST behind us while we waited behind someone waiting for a person to back out, we gave up. We went to Publix for lunch. This Publix didn't have any seating or benches, so we had an impromptu picnic on the sidewalk. The kids seemed to enjoy it and it beat trying to feed two young kids in their carseats.

Being gluttons for punishment, we headed back to the beach after lunch. I like to call it eternal optimism. And guess what? There were parking spots! Whew. Plus, we had only missed out on the extra strong middle of the day UV rays, so our skin was safer anyhow. (Always a bright side). Even better? Running on the beach for a couple hours wore out the kids so much that they slept on the way home, and after dinner, Silas slept from 8:30 to 5. That was the first time he's ever slept so well away from home. I would have rejoiced, but I stayed up until 11 to watch ice dancing (mostly worth it!) and waking up at 5 was still a bit rough on me.

The drive home was much better than the drive down. Silas napped for most of the trip to be honest. I think he was still worn out from the beach. Traffic was light most of the way and the weather was good, though I admit I prefer a bit of an overcast sky during a long drive.

I hope to go down and visit again in March and coming up shortly after that, we'll be heading down south again when Smiley runs in the Tough Mudder with some friends. I can only hope Silas will continue his positive trend of kind of sleeping better while we're away!