Weekend trips can really teach you a lot. Like about the importance of deep breaths.
For example. Try this li’l exercise:
After watching your husband toss a few outfits into a duffel bag the night before the trip, try-
a) packing your own stuff,
b) the baby’s stuff,
c) healthy-ish meals for the baby,
d) junk food for the husband/self/baby if she’s feeling really quick,
e) items forgotten by one’s husband,
f) things the kiddo needs- but still needs for the a.m nap,
g) new outfit for the baby after lunchtime destroys first one (taking a T.O to do an emergency load of laundry and/or sinkfull of dishes. Maybe two by this point),
h) set out food and water for the cats, plus enough catnip to dose a jam band,
i) put on brief, educational DVD for the child in order to facilitate packing of the car,
j) realize child will likely pass out from rage if she cannot accompany you,
k) take child with to Pack. Each. Bag. Into. Car.,
l) acknowledge fact that you should have left to pick up the husband- oh, half an hour ago,
m) forgo shower/non-smushed food/brushed hair/pants,
n) remove cat from hall closet,
o) forget to open dishwasher to “breathe,”
p) remember to turn on completely theft-deterring porch light,
q) strap octopuslike and still inexplicably upset child into her carseat,
r) reason with said child about how well rested she is,
s) get a frog in the face for your trouble,
t) receive jovial message from husband,
u) plot his demise,
v) wonder why you bothered with a list AT ALL,
w) let alone began to pack the night before,
x) drive downtown through summer construction/lunch rush/filming ofTransformers,
y) realize you have still YET TO PEE TODAY, and
z) pleasantly answer the question “How was your morning off?”
And the transit/weekend yielded such questions as whether or not Nora was a) a boy, b) able to eat the food I was giving her, c) three months of age, and d) six WEEKS of age. (Come ON, she has teeth!)
But in Cincy Nora got to play with all seven of the Schoeny cousins- and she could not have been more in love with their faces, their toys and their exotic snacks- and slept like a, well, baby in her private, darkened nursery. With fresh air all around the homestead. And nary a siren nor a Kedzie Avenue.
And I got the distinct joy of realizing that our 12 year-old nephew Tony never misses a blog posting- and votes every day for Top Mommy Blogs [sidebar, by the by], earning him the shoutoutiest shout out ever:(Hi, Tony. Nice divin’ at the pool.)
And there were birthday revelings all weekend long for Peej’s 40 year-old twin bros. And a pool party.
And a blowup giraffe pool party (the latter of which came back to Chi with us- and which I promise to share with Nora. At least once a week.)
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