Trick or Treat!

Wet.

Windy.

Cold.

Quick.

7 houses.

Treats.

Bewilderment.

Amusement.

Acceptance.

I should publish poetry.

We just put the punk to bed. He is now lying in his crib, saying, "Halloween costume... Halloween costume" over and over again. I declare this holiday a success!

A Thursday List

1. I was awake, listening to a crying, whining, yelling toddler from 4:00-5:30 am.

2. After I left his room for the last time, shut my door and threw myself in bed, I heard him stop crying and say in a sad little voice, "Please?... Please?"

3. Then I covered my ear with my hand and went to sleep.

4. He survived and we both slept in.

5. When I was getting him dressed this morning, I laughed when I left his undershirt on his head. He grinned and asked me to take a picture. I wonder if he's trying to look academic, or if he's just really into that book?

6. I got my workout in while the punk was on a play date this morning. That means, during his nap time, I get 2 1/2 hours to myself to eat lunch, blog, and then do laundry, clean bathrooms, mop the kitchen floor, and start clearing out our 3rd bedroom. Wait, this doesn't sound fun at all! The sentence started out nicely, but got lost somewhere along the way.

7. It's cold outside.

8. But not as cold and snowy as yesterday.

9. We went to Sugar House Park to eat lunch and observe the fowl. It was warm enough that we could leave our coats in the car, but the punk wore a hat and I wore a scarf so we had the accessories covered.

10. If there is a stick anywhere in the vicinity, the punk will find it. And throw it. Even if it has goose poop on it.

11. The punk likes sandwiches and applesauce.

12. I like hot chocolate.

13. I foresee hot chocolate consumption in my very near future. Maybe even before the house is clean. Sometimes I'm a rebel like that.

14. I have goose poop on my shoes.

October Bubbles

Today we laughed in the face of the freezing temps. We donned warm hats, armed ourselves with a pink bottle of bubbles, and enjoyed the great outdoors.

Then we took a stroll through our neighborhood so mama could get her 40 minutes of cardio in. Stroll is a soft word. We live on a mountain. It was a hike. With a heavy jogging stroller and an ever-growing belly. And that's why I'm counting it for my cardio workout. The punk insisted on holding his bubbles the whole way.

We blew more bubbles again when we got home, until the punk noticed his hands were frozen. He asked for a hug, and we went inside and soaked them in a nice, warm sink.

Now the punk is soundly asleep, the snow is falling fast in large flakes outside my window, I have a hot chocolate in hand and Glee on my DVR. Excuse me while I die of bliss.

Un Petit Garcon

When I told the punk we were going to the doctor's office so we could see the baby today, he grinned and said, "[That will] be awesome!" So he ate fruit snacks on Grandma Lynn's lap while the ultrasound tech entertained us with pictures of the babe. We went into the office hoping that the baby would be willing to forego modesty and show us his/her goods.

Wish. Granted.

It's a BOY!

Some friends have already warned me not to count on the results of the ultrasound, as sometimes the picture can be unreliable. But let me tell you something. There is no mistaking this one. I have printed pictures of this kid's junk. For his sake, I will not be posting them online, but believe me when I say this human is male.

Just imagine a pair of baby legs with the Eiffel Tower in between them. It's a BOY!

Golfers

The only time I've ever set foot on a golf course with a set of clubs, I cried. (I don't like to be bad at things... really, really bad.) But tonight, I put that traumatizing experience behind me, and suited up for an early Halloween party with my boys. Fore!

What are you and yours going to be for this freaky holiday?

Heaven and Hell

Last night, I told my man that I was leaving for a while. I didn't know where I was going or when I would have the guts to return. The punk had driven his poor mama to a dark place. I cried down the freeway, absentmindedly wondering if anyone noticed the crazy, sad lady in the car with the Ragnar sticker.

After grabbing a Starbucks hot chocolate (my go-to medicine) and wandering through Urban Outfitters and Anthropologie, I felt human again. I even returned home sooner than I had planned, in time to help with the punk's bath and bedtime routine. Then I cried again.

It's indecent how much one little toddler with a baaaaad attitude can screw with the person who gave him life. Yeah, that's right punk! You owe me everything, and in return, I get your very first nerve-twisting, day-long tantrum? No deal!

So I watched The Princess Bride and went to bed early.

This morning, the punk gave me the greatest gift of all: he slept in! Yesterday he was up at 6:30. Today: 8:00! That's right. The sun was up before he was! I knew the universe was paying me back for not escaping to Las Vegas yesterday like I had considered. That blessed hour and a half seemed to adjust the attitudes of us both.

The punk and I played on my bed, using his small blanket as a "tent." I threw it over our heads, and he'd smile and say, "Mama, tent!" Then, "Hug!" And he would lie on top of me, squishing his bulbous cheek into mine, and then give me a kiss.

All through our morning together, he played nice, and in return, I didn't lose my marbles. In fact, all of my marbles are safely stowed with no threat of escape. Want to borrow some?

We went to the park before his nap, where he shared the playground with a group of about 8 kindergarteners on a play date. They all had little Halloween buckets, and were running around, singing, "Trick or treat!" He soon learned the phrase and joined in the fun. I found him under the jungle gym with all of them. They would hold out their buckets to him and say, "Trick or treat!" And he would then give them "candy" (handfuls of wood chips). He was in heaven. I overheard a couple of them say, "That baby is so nice!"

Thanks kids! You just guaranteed the expulsion of Cruella De Vil from my stack of multiple personalities! (...at least for the rest of the day.)

Friday at the Ranch

The day ended as beautifully as it began: with the October sun perching at an angle through the yellow trees. Grandma Caryn sat at the river bank with the punk, handing him appropriately-sized throwing rocks.

Venna put her creativity to use by crafting a whimsical Princess Leia out of river rocks.

On our walk to the river, the three wild turkeys collected wild turkey feathers.

Before we found feathers, we passed the Lake of Shining Waters, as my cousin Megan and I used to call it when we were young Anne of Green Gables fans. (I think Aunt Karla is the one who planted the seed... of Anne and of naming the pond.) Could this view BE any more lovely?

Before we took our walk, I took advantage of a small but precious moment of "me time" before the punk awoke from his very short nap. I had brought my headphones outside with me, but couldn't resist listening the sweet song of the stream as it flowed underneath the bridge.

Before his nap, the punk took a moment of "punk time," wherein he sat on a rock and pondered... something. He didn't tell me what he was thinking about.

But it appears to be something mischievous, don't you think?

Witch Hunting

We found a witch! A real, live wicked witch! Today the punk and I joined our friends S, T and H for a witch hunt at Gardner Village. First, we found this pretty lady named Jim.

Then we greeted these lovelies.

The kids took a break from witch hunting to ride a pony and eat some candy.

Then, we met the real witch. After munching sandwiches and cookies, the punk was sitting with T on a rock wall, where he was playing innocently in the dirt. He took a pinch of dirt from the flower bed and then sprinkled it on the sidewalk. Since he wasn't throwing giant handfuls of the stuff, I let him do it. Perhaps this is what provoked the witch's wicked behavior...

I noticed an elderly lady who was donning a Halloween vest, walking toward us on the sidewalk, and I stepped back to let her pass. As she sauntered by the punk, she leaned in and yelled, "Boo!" He jumped, wide-eyed, and nearly stumbled off the short wall. Then the witch continued walking slowly away as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

My jaw dropped and I looked over at my friend S. We both burst out laughing. Did that really just happen? The witch didn't even make eye contact with me, the punk's mother, to let me know that she was just being silly. And she didn't linger to make sure he knew it was a Halloween joke. My guess is that she wanders around Salt Lake City, frightening small children, then returns to her secluded gingerbread house and waits for greedy little kids to come around so she can eat them.

Pixie Dust and Starfish

The punk decided last weekend to treat his parents to a wonderful adventure. He booked a couple plane tickets and took us to... where else? Disneyland! We indulged in the best corn dogs in the world, sat on giant pumpkins, explored Mickey's Toontown, scared the punk to death on Pirates of the Caribbean, then made it up to him by throwing a parade during which he danced to the celebratory music and waved to all his friends: "Hi Mickey! Hi Woody! Hi Jessie! Hi Donald!" You might even say we had a magical time.

The next day, we went to the beach, where the punk discovered the greatest substance ever made... sand! Oh, sweet joy! I am sure that we could have left him right here, gone out for lobster, and returned two hours later to find him in this same position with a slightly higher pile in his pink bucket.

By the way, see that family in the background? Those are our people. We stayed with our friends the Garretts in Camarillo. They have four vibrant, kind, beautiful kids who made me wish the punk had millions of cousins instead of just one.

We stayed up into the wee hours of the morning, reveling in grown-up conversation conducted in a hot tub, and then paid for it with 6 am wake-up calls from our punk. We ate fish & chips, cinnamon rolls, Mexican pancakes, and lots of fried stuff.

Thanks, punk, for the vacation!

Ten Nonfunctioning Digits

Pregnancy is a magical time. Did you know that many women find themselves to be more clumsy than usual while pregnant? I know I was clumsier during the punk's gestation, and on Monday, it became apparent that it has happened again this time. It just seems like a cruel joke to me. I think Mother Nature gets a laugh by seeing a big, fat lady with touchy sciatic nerves try to bend over to retrieve the items she drops all day long.

On Monday, I was carrying a bunch of items inside from the garage, including a melted frosty from Wendy's. As I tried to grip both the frosty and the door knob, I shut the door and promptly dropped the frosty, which sent a river of creamy chocolate goodness all over the door mat and tile. (Hey, at least it forced me to finally wash that filthy mat.)

Two minutes later, I was preparing the punk's bottle of milk for nap time. He loves to help me push the buttons and open and close the microwave door. As I was removing the full bottle from the microwave, the impatient punk slammed the door on my arm and sent the bottle flying onto the counter, covering my precious plate of chewy brownies, and leaving the creamy white liquid to drip down the cabinets and dishwasher and onto the floor.

One and a half minutes after that, I was putting groceries away. For no reason at all, I dropped the full container of cottage cheese. The lid popped off and the protective plastic seal blew open, spewing chunks all over the kitchen floor.

Three dairy spills in 5 minutes. That's got to be some kind of record!

How about you? Does your gripping function also stop operating when you are carrying a human life form?