Super (Pooper) Thursday...On Friday

I know, I know, it's Halloween. We'll get to that tomorrow. We don't have pictures of Halloween until it's actually over with, mmmkay? But, let me prepare you in advance, you WILL be witnessing perhaps the cutest monkey ever to don the costume. It will melt your heart; it will make your eyes weep; it will move mountains...if he keeps the hood up. He's not too keen on hats! You can at least see the attempt at "coloring" his punkin today. It went poorly. I think he drew one line on there before deciding that brushing Eddie was of more pressing importance.

Eddie, whom by the way, he's decided he is clearly the boss of lately. Yesterday, Collin simply would not be moved to go to the park until he pressed the dog's bottom to the floor to make him sit. Then, as if that weren't enough, he backed out of the house, pointing at him, glowering and very sternly voicing a command that started with the letter "s" but truthfully could've been "stay" or "succotash" for all I know. It was adorable but very silly.

Anyway, as you might know, Thursdays are big days in our house because the rock star garbage man comes by, not just once but twice! It's the first sound my little man hears in the morning and at the cock crow of the whirring engine approaching, he beckons me to grab him and drag him down to watch the truck as it barrels down the street.

The garbage man has come to expect us sitting on the curb, waving and yes, now giving him a standing ovation as he passes our house, so much so, that he not only waves at us in return, but gives us a garbage truck salute by lifting the front of the truck and dumping nothing into the back, just to let Collin see the hydraulics move a few extra times. Nice guy, huh? Then, it's up the stairs to get dressed and do it all again and we dash back down to watch him go back by the other way.

Well, this Thursday was extra super, as the night before we must've eaten something that was clearly a gear greaser for my man and on the dash downstairs to meet the garbage man I realized that he was a bit wet in the butt. Well, I also realized he was a bit stinky. It's not like he's never had a wet seat before on the curb. I mean, come on, a boy, sleeping all night, of course he's soaked. My kid drinks water like he just ran the Ironman so he usually wakes up with an eight pound diaper.

But, this wet was a bit mushier, a but more "special," if you will. And yes, by the time we got to the curb, it's aroma was wafting to my nose, even outside. It was lovely, that wait for the garbage man. I wonder if he could smell it too, all the way across the street, over the stench of trash. I wouldn't be surprised; it was just that special and just that super.

Of course, it's always a dash to get him dressed in time for the second round by. Don't ask me why we don't just wait down there in the first place. I don't know. It's just not how things are done. We have a routine and we're sticking to it. So of course, with World War Poop down there, it was definitely an extreme rush to get him down in time for the second pass, and he knew it. He could hear the truck approaching while I wiped and was straining to get away, wrestling against the wipes...hey, he had places to be. But, phew we made it.

After poop incident though, Thursday got even more super. We voted! Collin participated in his first real election. He mailed the real, actual ballots for both Mommy and Daddy. And, since Mommy and Daddy both voted for the same guy, I didn't have to throw Daddy's away instead to make sure only the important one counted :) Hee Hee. He got to wear Mommy's "I voted" today sticker all day, which left a lovely clean white circle underneath it after he played at the park and promptly got completely filthy surrounding every other square inch of himself. I keep trying to tell him that Mommy's vote was more special than Daddy's though because Mommy stayed registered in Ohio and Ohio is still a swing state but he pretty much knows Mommy's his special gal anyway, why rub it in?

Liar, Liar!

Collin had another major first today...a milestone really, his first fib. I'm curious as to whether or not that is one of those things that I etch in gold lettering in the baby book or if I pretend it didn't happen because my sweet boy would never do such a thing. I mean look at that innocent, sweet and joyous face...who could believe he'd ever commit such a crime!

For a kid who can't talk, lying is a feat in itself, I think...and I'm concerned that it means that he's headed down a slippery slope. What's next? Complete sociopath? If he becomes a criminal, I'll at least insist on a prison tattoo of "Mom" in a heart on his bicep.

Here's what happened. I caught him dragging the remains of a battered--just kidding, nothing that bad. He told me "poo-poo," and pointed to the bathroom. Since we've been practicing just sitting on our potty, nothing else, just sitting and saying the word poo-poo, I thought, hooray! I asked him if he wanted to sit on his potty and if he had to go poo-poo. We're really working on cementing the idea that bathroom equals poo-poo right now, not so much that he has to do anything about it. I don't think he's ready. But, whatever.

Anyway, he shook his little head yes and dragged me to the door, which was closed. So, little me thought that we were making a breakthrough, that super hooray, he was making the connection, that maybe, just maybe, he'd make his poo-poo in the room where we are supposed to do it. Getting a little ahead of myself, maybe eons, years, decades, I imagined the possibility of cleaning up a little turd out of the potty instead of the diaper that he would imminently fill this afternoon.

No such luck, the minute I opened the bathroom door, he reached for the story we'd left behind a little while earlier, picked it up, turned on his heels and left the bathroom behind. When asked if he had to go poo-poo at all, he shook his head no. Apparently, it was all a ploy to get his story. Grrrr.

He may not know that poo-poo goes in the bathroom but he knows how to be a little s-h-i-t already...okay, too harsh. He knows how to act like one on occasion. He's still my little angel. I was just taken aback by it. His first lie! I'm pretty sure he doesn't know he did it and he probably just knows the bathroom is the poo-poo room and the wanted in there, but still, it seemed like a lie and that's the story I'm sticking to.

Aunt Robyn Wins the Day

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the fact that yes, Aunt Robyn did of course, graduate too. That was the point of the trip, right? And, she was a distinguished graduate no less. For anyone who has been within shouting distance of the McClain family for more than ten minutes, you would have expected no less of our dear Robyn because if there is a top slot in anything, she's sure to get it. We could not be more proud of her and we're super happy and have to tell the world...see! (ignore the weird bump in my skirt that makes me look like I should be hiding something with a Trapper Keeper)

And, Aunt Robyn made everyone misty and teary-eyed by giving Bryon her wings. Well, not her wings exactly. But apparently, there is a tradition by which it's bad luck for the pilot to wear their first set of wings, so they break them in half, thus rendering them unwearable. They are supposed to keep half for themselves and give the other half to someone important in their lives, making sure to keep the two halve separate. The two halves are only to meet again when the pilot dies, at which time they meet at the pilot's final resting place, where they will help the pilot soar in the afterlife. Well, the half they give away is supposed to go to someone that has helped them soar now, right?

It seemed a no-brainer to me...she'd give them to J, her hubby. Nope, she gave them to Bryon! Jeesh. What a moment. We all melted. And, she even made a beautiful shadowbox for him to keep them in. It's got a picture of his little sister looking all tough and brave in front of her plane and a plaque with her name and the date on it and a little blurb about the wing breaking story. It's so gorgeous and sweet, I don't think there's a wonderful enough place that we can hang it in our house. Maybe in the White House? Can you tell that we're proud of her?

Collin decided that he was pretty proud and excited too. He wants nothing more than to be a pilot just like Aunt Robyn and Uncle J...or to just sign "airplane," the rest of his life, because they fly "up high," which he can actually say aloud.

Playground of Death

I'm not saying that they do things backwards in Mississippi, I'm just saying that the playground at the state park where we spent most of our time on our recent trip is perhaps in the land that time forgot. It's possible that in our over abundance of safety standards, padding and helmets for diaper changes, that we might worry a hair too much about our kiddos; but I think that the playground we went to was a might bit on the dangerous side.

I haven't seen a merry-go-round in ages. I'm pretty sure they have been yanked out of most playgrounds because they are too fun. Or, because one in two kids either falls off and chips a tooth or gets knocked unconscious. But, although I'm assured that others have seen this type of merry-go-round before, I've never seen this bucket type of merry-go-round. Seriously, a bowl? Is that so you can catch the puke in one convenient, easy to save for the next kid to sit in, location? It WAS fun anyway.

And, I'm pretty sure that bar spacing on any structure is standard for a reason. Both so kids can't fit through and so they don't try. Leave it to the one kid who's too big to fit through to try it. Yep, that's my son. He was pretty sure it looked like a good idea at the time. It didn't take long for him to rethink the decision. Hilarious after the rescue...scary for the moments he was actually stuck.

The play structures were a story in and of themselves, having been constructed sometime predating the Civil War, and therefore, I'm pretty sure a historical landmark, especially down there. When we weren't dodging the protruding screws and the rotted bits, we were making sure the metal slides weren't searingly hot from baking in the sun. But again, they were still fun...so long as we were within centimeters of Collin making sure he wasn't going to die. The ONE "newer" play structure was no better anyway, as the tippy top of it was missing the pole or ladder or whatever access to the ground it formerly had, and instead then was equipped with a ledge that dropped immediately off about twelve feet to the ground. P.S. none of these play structures were surrounded by anything softer than packed dirt.
My favorite fun thing at the playground of death, which I didn't take any pictures of, was the see-saw-roundy thing; yeah, I don't know what to call it. It was a circular ride on animal structure that bounced. There were four animals for kids to ride in the form of an X. It seemed super fun, until you took a close look at the axis and note that of the four major screws holding the thing together, two were missing and the two left were visibly loose and shook pretty wildly when we bounced. Hmmmmm. Collin thought the thing was a hoot anyway. I'm sure he would've laughed even more hysterically if one of the adults would've flown off wildly when the whole thing careened off the axis and we plummeted to our deaths into the sand bed it sat in that had been converted to a fire ant nest.

Alas, it was not a safe playground. But, it was a fun playground nonetheless. I'm pretty sure that we were not remiss in letting him play there since we at least noted the dangers lurking at every corner. I felt a little leery for the girls playing there while their mother napped in the parked car in the lot. But, hey who am I to judge? We all survived and had a good time.

Back to the high life

Yep, we're back to the big city living. I know I'm not a small town girl. But, I have to admit, I enjoyed the canoeing and the time with the kiddo. But, I did affectionately call the quiet, peaceful cabin that we hung out at the "toddler deathtrap." Considering that it came equipped with a balcony with slats three feet apart (yep, wide enough to step right through and plummet to your death), a steep staircase to the ground, easy access to the lake right outside the backdoor and to the road outside the front, I think it was an apt nickname.

Alas, it was so much fun for us though. Collin had so many eyes on his little adorable head the entire time, I don't think he could so much as sniffle without anyone wondering if he were okay, let alone trip and fall or splash unwittingly into the water and get hurt. Although the little neighbor girl from the next cabin over fell into the water while her daddy slumbered in a lawn chair. He woke up as my father-in-law plopped her dripping little self in front of him, having rescued her.

Still, we're home now, back where I like it, where there are more than three cars at a traffic light. But, I am trapped in the house. And, I'm not just trapped by the forty-two loads of laundry we accumulated on the trip or the dog hair so thick you could wade through it that I now need to vacuum (okay, I'm exaggerating); but, trapped by the stupid house painters.

The privatized people that own our house are painting the exteriors. Nice, yes. Annoying, yes. They have all the windows and doors taped shut with plastic and we are literally trapped and it's totally dark in here. It's eerie and weird and the dog really has to pee. So, I'd take me a little small town lake toddler death house that's super fun over this weird windowless paint fume house any day...even if it is in Columbus! Instead, I'll just sit here, take a deep breath and probably get a little bit of the high life here. :)

P.S. My favorite picture from the trip...isn't it awesome. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll sprinkle more throughout the week!

Columbs, Mississippi...Not a Fan!

So, Columbus, Mississippi is a small town. And, by small town, I mean that they have a Wal-Mart. Yep, and they've got a McDonald's too. They've also got a lot of fields and some ditches and a whole lot of run-down looking shanty homes and some trailers; but hey, lots of southern hospitality. All in all, it's a place I'd pretty much die if I had to be stationed at. But, thankfully we'll never have to come here as it's a pilot training base and thanks to four-eyed hubby, it won't happen.

But, Robyn (sister-in-law) is stuck here another four years because she's now an official pilot as of Friday and her hubby graduated last month. And, to stay together for another four years, they decided to become instructor pilots here. So, to make the situation bearable for themselves, they bought a house.

The house is friggin' amazing. It's huge and it's gorgeous. Apparently, you can buy a lot of house in the middle of the southern, for lack of a better word, armpit, for almost nothing. Hopefully, no one I know and love who reads this hails from Columbus and will be offended. If you are, too bad; it's a matter of opinion. Even Robyn cried when she realized she'd be stuck here for a handful more years, even though it meant at least she'd be with her hubby.

It's not really that it's THAT bad. It's quite pretty and the people are nice. But, I NEED a mall, more than three stores within a twenty minute drive and less than three trailers per five people. It's just me, maybe I'm a snob.

At the moment though, Collin is living it up here. Bryon's dad and stepmother rented a cabin on the lake as their accommodations and he's obsessively loving the "boat" idea and the fish, not to mention the hot dogs and mac-n-cheese. He is finally putting to use all that practice of the "airplane" sign we did so much of in preparation of finally seeing Aunt Robyn again and now he pretty much thinks that's her name. He blows her kisses when she's not looking because that's what we do when we see airplanes, of course! So, to him, Columbus isn't so bad.

I think for Mommy, she's just a big town gal. Apparently though there's some good barbecue down here and they have someplace that cooks some pretty amazing food right in some guy's personal crock pots! I'll pass on that and take everyone else's word for it, but local color, right? For now, I'll enjoy my big city assignment and hope for another.

What does TSA Stand For?

Tyrants with Snarly Attitudes?
Tiffy Snippy Apes?

Of course not! I know that TSA does a pretty important job. But, I also know that a family carrying a 19 month old child, and holding military I.D. cards as they pass through the metal detectors is probably NOT a threat; so, it's probably not necessary to give US of all people, a hard time. Still, that's what Mr. TSA in L.A. thought best to do yesterday.

It started with the car seat/stroller contraption that our super friend Kari let us borrow for the trip. This thing is awesome. It is designed for airports so it converts from a stroller to a car seat with one swift motion and it fits down the aisles of most planes. Anyway, Mr. TSA was a little perplexed at it and annoyed that it didn't "break down." What? Who ever heard of a car seat breaking down. I could almost hear him grrr-ing.

So, off to the side it went for manual inspection. He was then further annoyed that I had to carry my son through the detector. Then, Bryon had the wrong boarding pass...a mistake that should've been caught at the stand prior to this when it was stamped by Miss TSA who inspected it only moments before. But, I digress.

Anyway, he promptly, and in a raised voiced shooed him back from the metal detector and pretty much indicated that he was trying to board a flight to Bahrain with bombs in his shoes. Meanwhile, I've made it through after having set the darn thing off with my belt. So, I reach into the backpack, which has made it through the belt by now, and get the correct boarding pass and hand it over the wall to my poor hubby who's being detained.

Wrong choice! Mr. TSA yelled at me. Apparently, I'd been instructed via telepathy to hand him, and only him said boarding passes, not Bryon. So, I was told to go "STAND OVER THERE!" By now, I was pretty annoyed, barefoot and tired of holding my beast of a child and wondering if my car seat was cleared to set him down.

Mr. TSA #2 told me it was, but I was still pretty afraid of Mr. TSA #1's wrath so I waited until we were clear of the line to put him in. Alas, after Mr. TSA #1 sheepishly saw that Bryon's I.D. card was, in fact, a military I.D. and it did, in fact, match his boarding pass, he was a bit red in the face and he let us pass without further incident. Gee, you mean the innocent looking family with the baby and the diaper bag WASN'T a bunch of terrorists. I'm shocked! Shocked!

The rest of the day passed...eventfully! We had a two hour delay! Mr. Collin learned that escalators are super fun and that they are endless. Yep, that was an adventure that I think I could go on living forever. He also learned that throwing things really annoys Mommy. Sippy cups, his pacifier, his blankie, pretty much anything will do.

The plane rides themselves (both of them) were pretty uneventful. He LOVED kicking the chair in front of him...but he loved Mommy holding his feet still even less. I got the suggestion from Erin a little late for lollipops. I'll try that on the way home. He was all about crackers...and throwing them! He was pretty entertained with Skymiles magazine for a while too, until he tore it up and threw that and for some strange and inexplicable reason, ate it.

He also proved Mommy right. Daddy was certain that because we'd arrive in the middle of the night, surely he'd sleep in the car on the way to Aunt Robyn's. I said nope. I was right. So, today we've got a toddler running on less than six hours of sleep. Any bets on how long he lasts before he becomes a terrible monster that eats parents and grandparents alike?