One Year Later

Several times during our vacation I would remember that in 2008 we returned from vacation to move in LESS THAN TWO DAYS and have a fence built. I still need immense and intense therapy for that string of stupid decisions. But here we are, one year later on Broad St and enjoying our space so much. We have 600 more square feet, rooms that are well suited to our furniture, a bigger yard, more storage...a good move. But it occurred to me a month or two ago that we might all benefit from a bedroom switcharoo. Now, let me explain that this is not a new house (I hate new construction), so if you are picturing a master suite you are sorely mistaken. In our 80+ year old house, a bedroom is a bedroom. So after much consideration and mental planning, we switched Elliott's room and our room yesterday. So far, I'm digging it. Our room looks H-U-G-E. Elliott's room looks well proportioned for a child's room, but I am having a little trouble fitting all his toys in there. I am not opposed to a past due toy purge, and I might have to consider a bin or two in the living room. But other than that, it looks really good as his room. And in an effort to attempt to get him in his bed, I caved and put a DVD player in his room. I have lots of mixed feelings about this, BUT he did go to sleep in his own bed last night and stayed there until 4 am. And at that time, he did not wake up in total meltdown like he has in the past. I woke up to the tiniest "Mami" whisper in my left ear. He had calmy (I suppose) walked from his room to ours and was standing beside the bed. Blow me over with a feather. Now, I was pretty confident I could get him to fall asleep by himself. By as Doug sometimes suffers from lack of brain, he blew that plan and did lay down with him. But I am so very proud to say that from 11 pm to 4 am he slept IN HIS OWN BED IN HIS OWN ROOM ALL BY HIMSELF. And I am saying to myself and all other parents who are struggling with some issues or another, just think of how much progress can be made one year later.

Cross your fingers for tonight.

Surprise Domestic Goddess

We've always had a rule in our house that before you can go on vacation the house has to be clean and the car has to be clean (inside and out). For the car, this is usually the only time a year this actually happens. I have carried over these practices from childhood to adulthood, so on top of packing and preparing to leave work each year, there is all this extra stuff to do! But how good it feels to come home to a clean house.

The past few years at the townhouse have brought out an unheard cleanliness in me. It could be because it doesn't belong to me and I'm less forgiving of other people's dirty. It could be that there are more people staying in less square footage (and people who are no longer used to living together) that makes me more willing. But I suspect the main reason is that the condo is free to me (thanks, Daddy!) and so I feel a need to pull my weight. So ye of little faith, know that for a few weeks each year, I obtain a higher level of domestication! Don't worry, it doesn't take long for me to fall back into my terrible habits.

It's always interesting to see which amenities will surpass or not meet those of home. I decided to compile a list this year:

• Shower size: Home is the clear winner.
• Hot water: Townhouse is the clear winner.
• Kitchen size: Home.
• Kitchen cleanliness: HOME!
• Mattress comfort and linens: Home.
• View: Townhouse by a long shot.
• Peace: Townhouse. And it wins bonus points for being cat free.

Until next year, Premier Townhouses! But psst, please let #2-6 be available. No more #1-8.

A Bitchin' Time at the Beach

Oh how I so love my yearly week at the beach. Everyone should take 1 week off each year and rejuvenate. My family spends all year in anticipation of this week. And some strange members are always ready to go by the end of the week, while those of us who are sane begrudge returning to the real world of work, bills and assorted stressors. Luckily Elliott hasn't hit the age where he whines about going home. It's hard enough to console myself.

My little man really enjoyed the beach again this year. Each year he does a little better about how long he will stay out before heading back to the condo. It helped to have the extra help of the grown up boys this year. Frisbee, soccer, football, volleyball, boogie boarding and water gun fights were undertaken. As were some shots at night by those over 21.

Surprisingly enough, 8 people in one townhouse was not too overwhelming. Everyone was very conscious of the situation and behaved accordingly.

Sigh, only 300+ more days until next year...

Beach Bums!

The annual Elliott family PCB trip is here! We spend nearly all year anxiously awaiting this blessed week away from reality. A townhouse on the beach, lazy days, good grilling, and fun activities such as putt-putt golf and Gulf World are on the agenda.

This year is a bit odd for two reasons. One, Jeb is going as are Jack and William. All of whom will be sleeping in the living room. Hmm. Seven adults and one rowdy 3.5 year old in one townhouse. Should be cozy! Two, Mom and Jeb left early this morning to go to Enterprise to close on Jeb's house. Well, that's the way it was supposed to have gone. But unfortunately the morons processing his paperwork have not finished his loan approval packet. So after they were halfway there, they got the news that the closing is being rescheduled for Monday. Ok, not great but not totally devastating since we'll only be 90 miles from Enterprise in PCB. He can drive up, close and drive back. However, Mom drove down in Jeb's fully packed Explorer, and Jeb drove down in a 17 ft. UHaul truck packed full. So, he had to sign yet another agreement to "rent" the house for the next week. And he went ahead and changed all the utilities. Meanwhile I'm back here about to have a major anxiety attack based on the fact that it's all still up in the air. Please God let this all work out!

And being the baby that I am, I'm sad that part of our entourage won't be present for the entire caravan down there. We put a lot of fun into anticipation. Last year mom and I even did our Wal-Mart shopping for the trip together. And now the frequent-urinator won't join us until 5 hours into the trip. Sad, but good for the driving.

I'm on a Boat!

We took the boat out for the first time this summer on Sunday, which is quite pathetic considering it's July. And if you know me then you know I have mixed feelings about the divorce-mobile. Daddy and Doug purchased it right as I was gearing up to get us started on Elliott's adoption. I was freaking out about the cost of international adoption, and they were out buying a boat I couldn't afford. And I'm still paying the insurance on it each year. Think happy thoughts, Emily.

Anyhoo, Daddy, Doug, Mom, Elliott and I set off on what was a questionable outing due to impending rain. Daddy, aka Co-op radar guru, swore there was just one tiny little blip on the radar and that it shouldn't affect us. Not long into the trip, here came the rain. They wanted to wait it out. But super nervous mom here was not interested in waiting to see if lighting might accompany the rain. So we set off back to the ramp in the rain, which was quite painful for everyone except Elliott, who I had under a mom-reinforced rain shield made from a beach towel. And he has always done this really somber act when riding in the boat, but this time when we got back to the ramp he had a confession: "Mami, I not like the boat; it scare me." Amen, baby. Now just convince Big John to sell it.

(Belatedly) Introducing Phillip the Female Cat

Elliott's new kitten (RIP Carl Wheezer) was bottle raised by Aunt Kathy since she was 1 day old. Aunt Kathy is a special lady who has more than earned her spot in Heaven for many reasons. The litter started out as 5. Jack and the crew discovered them and named them after themselves: Jack, Davis, Zeke, Phillip...and then Callie. Unfortunately, the girls are all that are left :(


Phillip's favorite toy is a wadded up Elliott sock. She eats at least 5x a day. She thinks nighttime is playtime. She loves to cuddle with me. And she somewhat respects Priss' boundaries. Meanwhile, Priss doesn't hate her nearly as much as she hated Carl Wheezer, which is the equivalent of asking Phillip to be her BFF.

The Price of Bribery, I mean Bravery, is $21.86 (+ tax)

Me: Elliott, you are going to have to get an army haircut like Uncle Jeb.

Elliott: I not want to.

Me: If you will be brave and let Daddy shave your head, Mami will go to Wal-Mart tomorrow morning and buy you that Wolverine you've been wanting.

Elliott: Okay.


Oh yeah, and the price of fumigation? $61.95 for RID shampoo and house spray. Not counting new pillows, broom, etc.

A Plague Upon Our House

There is no way that I can adequately describe THE HEAD LICE PLAGUE OF 2009. But I shall try.

I returned home on Tuesday night from NOLA; Doug and Elliott picked me up, I loved on E (naturally), then we all went to La Fiesta. At bedtime, after a bath, he was scratching his head. Now, this is not unusual behavior for him because he has the equivalent of cradle cap and has to use Selsun Blue during the summers. I asked Doug if he had been consistently using the Selsun Blue (no), when Doug uttered this horrific phrase: "You know, when I was putting him in his carseat yesterday, it kinda looked like lice." [side note: YESTERDAY?!? ARE YOU F'ing KIDDING ME???] This is the moment when my week went downhill. I jumped out of bed, turned on the light, and pulled back a segment of hair. Yep, LICE.

HORROR. DISGUST. REVULSION. PANIC. MAD. INSERT ALL APPLICABLE EMOTIONS HERE.

Start frantically pacing. Can't decide who to call first: Mom or Erica. Erica wins out. Luckily, Dalton was clean. I go to Wal-Mart wearing a white t-shirt, black bra, and blue booty shorts from 1997. Pretty picture, huh? Get back with the RID, treat Elliott while Doug treats himself (remember, I've been out of town for 3 nights, I think I MIGHT be immune). After combing and combing and combing and combing some more, realize those little bastard eggs are not coming out. Call Erica back, cash in offer to come over. Now, here is an example of a great friend. She came over at 10 pm and said the hard thing: you need to shave his head. Cue look of complete incomprehension by me, followed by panic, followed nearly by tears. The unspoken interchange was "SHAVE HIS HEAD?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! SHAVE OFF HIS BEAUTIFUL, SILKY, ROCK STAR HAIR THAT EVERYONE ENVIES?!?!" But a true friend stays and calmly repeats the message over and over until the parents face reality and shave his head. But not without bribery (more to come on this).

I slept in Elliott's bed that night hoping to prevent this mass of curly hair from being infected. And I got up the next morning and went and took an Am Gov final exam. And then I searched high and low for the house spray which runs $8/tiny little can. And I spent the next 5 days in utter paranoia and panic that my sanctuary had been breached. Even our cars had to be fumigated. And yes, a handful were found upon this head. Two RID treatments down, 1 more to go. I have broken every rule of clothes washing that I have ever obeyed in my effort to eradicate these prehistoric looking little f-ers. I would not wish them on my worst enemy.