Bliss (?)

Blink. Blink. Yaaaaawnn. Stretch. Yaaaawn.

Ahh it's 8:30a.m., not 7:30.

I did not wake up thinking, "I have 5 minutes to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth before he gets up."

No one woke me up in the middle of the night with bad dreams frights, teething issues or just because they damn well felt like it.

I did not have to change anyone's pee soaked diaper and then wrestle that certain someone into an outfit for the day, or at least until he spilled his breakfast on it.

Inside, I allowed myself to lay in bed a bit and wake up slow. Then I went into the bathroom inspected my face, flossed and brushed my teeth. I headed into the closet to figure out what to wear for my morning run.

I ran outside. Without pushing a stroller full of bored, whining toddler. I did not have to stop because shoes needed to be removed, then out back on, then removed again. No one begged to be released from the grip of the stroller so they might be able to play in the sand or the water or the sand and water.

Today Josh and I will run errands, eat lunch and go to a 30th birthday party of one of my best friends without a second thought. No diapers to change. No nap to schedule around. No sitter to debrief before we depart.

Parker is lucky enough to have grandparents who love him TREMENDOUSLY.

He is at their house now, so Josh and I could get some stuff done around here and go to a party tonight. Pman has spent time at their house many times before. He does great when he is there. J and I enjoy the quiet, but we miss our Parker.

No Parker also means I did not wake up to the happy giggles from his crib that I usually hear as I open his door in the morning. I also missed hearing him say, "Mommy!" with sheer delight.

We did not sit on the couch together this morning with our standard issued milk (him) and coffee (me) and watch Blue Clue's.

I ate a Fiber One bar and drank a hurried glass of water, in silence, before my run. This replaced my normal routine of Fruit Loops (him) and Mini Wheats (me) at the table while we listen to Toddler Tunes on the TV.

The toys are put away nicely, not scattered around haphazardly.

This is nice, but tomorrow, when I am back with Parker in his world of laughter, chaos, crushed cookie and sticky lollipops, the world will be right again.


Until then, one last good sttttrrreeeetttch!

How Does Their Garden Grow?

Confession: I cannot and do not garden. I'm ok with it.  I have other talents like lounging on the beach with Pman, sitting quietly while getting a pedicure and laughing without abandon at all thing The Soup. In my fantasy life Joel McHale and I are BFF's.

I do have an aloe plant that has been in my family for a long time. I know that sounds weird. My dad had cancer for the first time when I was about 10.  One of his treatments involved radiation. My mom grew an aloe plant and when my dad would come home from the treatments, she would cut off a spiky stem, slice it long-ways and rub it on his chest, letting the soothing goo comfort him.

My sisters and I all have little off shoots of this plant.


Truth be told keeping an aloe plant alive is very easy. It's like a cactus. A little water, a lot of sun and you are good to go.

Other than that, I am terrible at keeping plants alive. I hear hydrangeas are easy, but I killed them. Pansies? Yep, dead too.

In our house Josh does the gardening. He has several potted plants in our front yard. Every day when he comes home from work, he grabs Pman and they go check the plants together. This is one of my favorite things and I have nothing to do with it.

Tonight, we will dine on green beans that my guys grew for us. THAT, is love.

                             

How does MY garden grow?

I'm not sure, but it is happening very fast.

Questionable Confidence

So.

It's 2p.m. on a Saturday and my self confidence is diminishing- quickly.

I did not have an opportunity to work out on Thursday or Friday, so my plan was to run run run on Saturday morning and then go about my day all revived and full of energy and down a few calories.

Without getting too into the details, my stomach has been hurting lately, so my work out was not what I had hoped. I could only manage 10 minutes on the treadmill.

Then I took Party-P to a birthday party. The party was great. However, the gift I brought for the little two year old boy was lacking a bit (read: a lot). As P was playing with the birthday boy's toys I realized the boy already had the gift I bought for him. As we were heading home I peaked in the goody bag- it was leaps and bounds better than the actual gift I gave him.

In my defense I am generally a great gift giver.

When I know a gift giving occasion is approaching, I really pay attention to the person and what is going on in their lives. I put thought into gifts I give. I research- yes research- the best gifts. I am not a last minute shopper when it comes to gifts. Well, gifts for the non-toddler lot.

Upon returning home from the party, I realized the recent painting project I took on this past week, looked streaky in places. I have no energy to fix it.

So instead, I ate the mini Kit Kat out of P’s amazing goody bag. Like stealing candy from a toddler. A sleeping toddler.

At this point I will blame the shoddy, streaky look on the cheap paint from Ace, although someone had to put it on the wall. That someone was me, so I guess I'm at least partially responsible.

Finally, and perhaps the most sad of all, I think I want to see the new Tom Cruise movie. This is something I would have admitted freely in Tom's pre-couch pouncing days. Now? I'm slightly ashamed. Yes, I saw Tropic Thunder. No I did not like it. Yes, I know I am in the minority.

I wonder if P's goody bag has any mini Reese's Peanut butter cups...

Bears Repeating

Confession: This is an unoriginal, but entertaining, blog topic.

I would not classify Parker as a picky eater. He does not like chicken as a general rule (weird, I know, but not picky there are plenty non-chicken related foods. I admit chicken nuggets/tenders are popular among the kid population and if he liked them things may be a bit easier, but Pman says no to nuggets.)

He can handle food that is a little spicy, but if something is too spicy he makes a hurty face and tries to scratch the hot off his tongue.

Psizzle will not eat the same thing two days in a row, unless that thing is fruit loops, in which case there is never enough.

Dips of any variety are right up his alley, but ONLY if you let him do the dipping. He has no interest in you dipping his food for him in an effort to keep things sanitary. He wants to do it his own darn self, so back off.

Broccoli is fine, but only if it is plain. No and I mean no cheese sauce. And NO peas ever. Don’t try to put them in soup or pasta. He will find them and pick them out. Sort of ironic, no?

He likes fruit.

Well. He likes fruit while we weave in and out of the produce section at our local Giant. Once those goodies are in the car they begin to lose their appeal (ha! get it? a peal?). By the time they have made it all the way to our fridge they are downright vile and don't you dare even cut up an apple and put it on his plate in the morning!

Today at the store, he reached, stretched and whined in the general direction of the strawberries. I search through to find the least moldy plastic container and put it in the cart.

More stretching, reaching and louder whining from Pfunk.

I pulled out a large steriodberry from the container and gave it to him. I wipe it on my sweaty gym shirt first. That means it's clean and sanitary, right?

An old lady, who I otherwise would have instantly liked because she sort of reminded me of my Magraw, said, "He shouldn’t eat that. You really should wash it first."

I muttered back, "Well you do what you do and I'll do what I do."

Harsh I know, but I mean really. I see people do dumb stuff on a daily basis. I hear people at the gym exchange a series of untruths and falsehoods disguised as a conversation, and do I correct them?

Nay.

I figure they are either dumb and not worth my time, or maybe they are just trying to get through a workout and get home for a nice glass of wine.

I know the fruit is not as clean in the store as it will be after I get it home and wash it (and then let it rot in my fridge for a week).

My son wants a strawberry over a cookie, so I'm taking this opportunity and running with it. It's healthy and will keep him quiet. Yes, I know he is trying to digest the green stemmy part, I am ok with it and I promise to not call you with a report when he inevitably poops it out.

Finally, P will be 2 in about 15 days. He loves to "cook". Just today when we got home from the beach and were de-sanded as best we could be, he looked at me and said, "cook?!"

Sure thing. Happy to oblige my little Pmeister.

My sister got P a kitchen for his birthday. When she went shopping at Toys R Us for the kitchen, somehow the salesMAN found out this kitchen was for a boy. He commented that my sister and mother were in the wrong aisle as that they were looking at kitchens which were, of course, a girls toy.

My mom said something about Gordon Ramsey being able to kick the salesman's ass and that was that.

I mean really. A girl toy?!

Idle Time

There has been a mysterious diaper ambush in the Phillips house.  I will post the only known photos here on this public domain.  If you have any information or leads, please contact me immediately.  A reward of fruit snacks and cheez-it awaits you if your information leads to the guilty party.

Thank you and God Speed.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B-1 A close up.  Foyer                                                  Exhibit B-2 A full view. Foyer

   

The only known suspects.  We here at the Phillips Family headquaters admit these shots are a bit blurry, but we feel these are the best shots available to us at this time.  We believe the suspects may have been working together on this job.

That's Pneumonia with a P

On Friday morning, quarter of six if you want to get right down to it, Josh was staggering around our room moaning and holding his side.


He was like some sort of suffering beached sea creature. I mean really if he had told me had been shot I would have believed him, although I don't know why because we don't have a gun and live in a nice neighborhood.

He was in some serious pain.

After a lot of "whatdowedo? whatdowedo?" Josh jumped in the shower and I began calling people (sorry if you were one of them) to see if anyone could come over and watch Pman while I took J to the hospital. A couple minutes after I heard the water from the shower turn off I see Josh coming down the steps dressed for work. He thought it was just a muscle thing or was a bruised something from rugby the night before.

Yes he still goes to practice. I just can't fight about it and he's an adult so it's his choice.

Thinking the hot water cured the muscle crap, Josh headed off to work. Thirty minutes later I get a call from the local hospital. It's Josh. On his way to work he made a pit stop to the ER where he was diagnosed with kidney stones.

Without getting too graphic; one stone has passed Saturday afternoon, it is Josh's believe there is another one floating around and waiting to make an appearance. He has drugs. He has beer. This too shall pass.

THEN- Saturday morning, pre-stone passing, Josh was in pain and frankly quite irritable, so P and I went to the gym with hopes of getting a smoothie post work-out. SweetP loves gym smoothies.

While I was working out, Pman was in the gym day care moaning "mama" and then fell asleep on the day care lady's shoulder. He fell asleep IN the day care with scream kids and crying babies.

SO unlike him.

He was not interested in the smoothie.

SO unlike him.

He threw up in the car twice in the 8 mile drive home from the gym.

SO unlike him.

His fever was 103.1. I gave him Tylenol and he took a nap while I held him. While P slept, Josh passed a stone. Then Pman woke up, ate a whole piece of pizza and was bouncing around. Thinking we were on the upswing of a weird 24 hours, we went out to enjoy the nice day.

Around 4p.m. we returned home and it happened- Pman puked again, bringing the total to 4. I gave him Motrin and took his temp- 104.1. After a quick conversation with Parker's doctor, we headed to the ER- again. We left in a hurry forgetting my wallet and Josh's stone medicine.

That makes 2 ER trips in 2 days.

The doctors and nurses and techs worked quickly on Pfunk- taking his temperature, administering a suppository of Tylenol, starting an IV and 2 chest x-rays. Once the IV was started they put a little velcro cast on his arm that made it immobile and nearly impossible for him to rip out the needle and tubes. No matter how many dinosaur stickers they slapped on that thing Pman HATED it. Thankfully I was allowed to sit on the bed with him, which helped us both. Eventually, CheezIts and fruit snacks made P happy again.

For me though, the jargon, the rushed air in the room, the tears- it all brought back a time I like to forget or at least like to think about and reflect on in the privacy of my own space.

I had to will myself to not lose my shit right there because I could have very easily. That scene was, well is, familiar to me.

After a bit the doctor came in and said, “Parker has Pneumonia.” A mild case, but pneumonia. Armed with discharge papers, instructions and a prescription, we headed home. I hope it is a long long time before we return to the ER. I'll be fine if I never return.

You may be wondering where Josh was in all of this- he was moaning and wandering around the ER like a mental patient. Being crabby to strangers and trying to get someone- anyone in scrubs to give him something to numb the pain of the second stone that was doing Nascar laps through his insides.

Oh, Pman I can't wait for your bounce back to kick in- something tells me that won't take long.

What Parker Taught Me Today

Today was the first beach day of the season for Pfunk and me. He loves loves loves the beach. Last summer he loved it even more than the pool. Actually, this was not his first trip to the beach this year.


On May 1 he was at my parent's house and they took him to the beach to play in the sand. He got in the water. It was cold, I'm told. My parents did not get in. Parker did not seem to mind the water temperature. It was water and that is all he needs for a good time.

On to the lessons for the day:

1. Collecting sea glass with a 2 year old is super fun. I started a collection of sea glass today. There are no plans for these weathered pieces of odd shaped glass, but for now I will put them in a clear glass jar. Once I buy a clear glass jar.

2. Seashells make a yummy beach snack. They are crunchy like potato chips. AND salty like potato chips. Are you sure these aren't potato chips?

3. When collecting seashells or sea glass or gravel, the top of your mom's bathing suit is a good place to store them. If only she would stop squirming and pulling them out. Does she know how long it took me to get that specific handful of gravel?

4. It is apparently Parker's job to put every piece of sand on the beach, back into the ocean. Grainy bit by grainy bit.

5. Pman and I spotted at least 6 dead baby crabs on the beach. I picked up the first one and put it with our stuff so we could take it home. Then I saw another one and another and another. It became less interesting and more sad. I hope they perished because of natural baby crab causes and not because of some twisted off shoot from the wretched oil spoil in the Gulf. Double damn you BP!

6. My son does not care what I look like in a bathing suit. He loves me and wants me to roll in the sand and then parade down the beach with him in all our sandy glory. He wants me to join him while he is in the water and then as he sits directly on the dry, hot sand. Living my life with a toddler in tow has made me less self conscience, more aware of the world around me, determined to be a better person and happier.

Question of the Day: How is it SweetP, that I am almost 30 years old, but I feel like my life just began nearly 2 years ago?