The Big Hand!

You are obsessed with two things these days. One, a little show you like to call "The Big Hand Show" (otherwise known as The Voice). You actually can point out "Bake Shetton" and now, whenever you see a girl with platinum blond hair, you say, "Kiss-tina!" But mostly, you're obsessed with making "the big hand"...


It's not easy for your chubby little fingers, so you actually prefer it when Mama or Dada do it. Which brings me to your second obsession: taking pictures. I think you might actually have an eye for it! This you took on an airplane...


You caught me trying to watch Top Chef...


Over it...


At home...


While drinking...

BARF

We just took a quick trip to New York. It was a lovely time, or, as you like to say these days, "AMAZING." (Some other new favorite words and phrases... "I'm so excited!" and "stupendous" - seriously.) We spent 15 of the 3 days we were gone in airports or on planes, but you flew like a champ! Until. Until the last 5 minutes of our return flight... when air pockets and too much milk and jet lag and lord knows what else got to you, and got to your tummy, and you threw up. On me. With one, quick "BLAH" I had vomit all over my shirt, soaking my hair, on my backside and in my underpants. It was actually quite impressive how you managed to get nothing on the chair or yourself. I took it all for the team. Your welcome American Airlines flight attendants. Did I mention who watched the whole thing go down?


That's right, she did. Sharon Stone was on our plane - and actually asked me if she could help as we de-boarded. Looking back, I should have asked for the shirt off her back, huh? Next time.

3 Strikes and Child Services comes a'Knocking

You are almost 2 years old, and I assume by this point you've gathered enough information about me to realize that I am not the world's most "put together" mother. I don't know who is, but I do know that she showers more than twice a week, ALWAYS changes pee pee sheets instead of just throwing a blanket over the wet stain, and has never, EVER done any of the following three things...

1. Forgotten to pack baby's jacket when flying into a Blizzard.


We flew to New York during one of the 37 blizzards they've had this winter. Naturally, as Californians (and as a Minnesotan who has blocked cold weather from her memory), we were plenty concerned with warm clothing. Your dad brought his massive Raiders jacket that could fit 3 eskimos inside. I looked like this:


But your jacket? Forgot it. Your dad shoved you in his coat to keep you warm but mainly to hide you so it didn't look like we had a toddler without a jacket wandering around in a wintry mix of sleet and snow. We made it safely to the hotel, and the next morning I braved the 10-foot high snow drifts in search of a jacket. Did I mention this was the day after Christmas? THE STORES WERE EMPTY! No one had returned anything yet because they were still drunk off blizzard hot toddies. I went to 5 stores before settling on a 12-16 month (you were 21) girl's jacket (you're a boy).

2. Changed baby into shorts on the floor of the NYSE after baby wet his nice "business casual" pants.

A picture of the floor of the New York Stock Exchange is perhaps next to the word "BUSINESS" in the dictionary. Men in suits, women in suits, period. Visitors are asked to dress "business casual." We had the opportunity to visit the floor over Christmas break, and I fussed over making you look like the perfect future stock broker/GQ cover baby. Miiiiiight have paid too much attention to your clothes and maaaaybe forgot to change your morning diaper. By the time we reached the NYSE, you had wet yourself a billion times over. NO MATTER! I AM SUPER MOM! I COME PREPARED! I HAVE BACK-UP CLOTHES! Err, I have back-up clothes for California surfer baby, not future stock broker/GQ cover baby. F. So I was forced to change you into blue sweat shorts for all to see. Don't worry, pictures were taken.


3. Failed to clean up pee on playground equipment with other mothers watching.

Now we're back in California. It's easy and breezy and calm and warm and everything is cool. No need for a jacket, surfer boy back-up shorts a'plenty in the diaper bag... all is right in the world. Until one day we're at the playground and I look down to text your father and I hear, "I think your son is peeing." I look up, and you are peeing. You are peeing on some piece of playground climby thingy. I go to pick you up and realize I have nothing on me, the diaper bag is in the car and the car is far away. I grab you and sort of kick sand over the urine-contaminated spot, avoid eye contact with the other mothers, and run away. It sort of reminded me of this.


p.s. I realize a lot of this letter had to do with pee. What. You pee a lot.

You're Fired.

We recently stayed at the Trump Soho in New York City (p.s. now when you see any building higher than 10 stories you point and say "Ooo Ork"). It was a lovely hotel with a lovely room and lovely service. They even gave you a coloring book to play with! Success. However, here is a page in said coloring book:


Fail.

Really, Donald Trump? This is the message you want to send small children? Notice how the lady isn't even holding any bags, leading me to believe those are not, in fact, her children but rather small slaves she hired to shop with.

please adjust your own mask before...

I forgot to mention one thing about our recent plane trips. On the way to New York, everything was going quite smoothly. Until, out of frustration because I couldn't close the overhead compartment, I slammed it so damn hard that these popped out:


Not everyone's, just ours, but a frightening sight nonetheless.

To you, they must have looked like a toy. Dangly, bright, and just barely in your grasp. You swatted at them and THANKFULLY, didn't reach. Had you pulled this toy, oxygen would have started flowing and... we would have had to LAND THE PLANE.

That's right, land the plane. Somewhere in the Midwest. I wonder how that would have gone down? I'm sure all one hundred plus passengers would have been totally fine with it. Missed connections, delays, cancelled plans, etc. No big deal, because you're a cute baby, and people on planes LOVE babies! Especially when they cause emergency landings.

flying, part 2

Ok, I'm still flying, and I'm still blogging.

There's a family across the aisle from us similar to ours. Mom, dad, 10-month old little girl named Mia. She isn't sleeping, like you're STILL doing (knock on wood). And that poor mom, she is doing EVERYTHING! The dad is watching a movie. A movie! It's absolutely absurd. I'd just like to go on record saying that you have THE MOST helpful, willing, loving father who would jump out of this plane for you, and for me for that matter. All I have to do is look at him a certain way and he knows just what to do.

I sort of want to throw peanuts at this mo fo. Yeah I said "mo fo" - I'm cool, just deal with it.

look, it's a plane!

We're flying on a plane right now. That's right, I'm blogging and flying. Ok, sure, by the time you read this you'll laugh and say, "MOM, we have flying cars and robot butlers and mobile ovens now." Son, that was my hope for the future too, that was my hope...

I digress. As I mentioned, both you and your father are asleep. You're on the floor, snug in a cozy airplane blanket/pillow makeshift bed. (Gross? Maybe. But more importantly, you're SLEEPING.) Your father put on the movie District 9 and fell asleep before the opening credits. I'm drinking his wine.

I really have nothing to say in this letter other than, WE'RE ON A PLANE AND I'M ONLINE! It's just all very exciting, because I'm old school. And to prove it, I'm going to go smoke in the bathroom now.

new york, new year!

I woke up this morning to this view outside our New York hotel window.



That's Central Park, and the white stuff is snow. Really ugly view, isn't it? I'm about to call the front desk to complain - it's too panoramic, there's way too much beauty and nature going on and I SPECIFICALLY requested a view of concrete.

Anyway, you are still sleeping (in the closet, your crib is in a closet) because we've kept you on California time this trip. I'm up, because it's too hard for my body to stay on west coast time when I'm awoken by this magnificent sight! Besides, it's New Year's Eve, and I'm too excited to sleep.

Today is the last day of the year in which you were born! You're 9.5 months old, when did that happen? I can't believe how much you have already accomplished in such a short amount of time - you have four teeth, you're practically walking, you're a baby genius, and you like to chew on lollipop lamb chop bones. I am so proud!

But that's not even why I'm excited. This time of year and this day in particular are full of memories for me. I spent 4 years in a row working in Times Square, watching the crystal ball ring in a new year. The midnight moment is magical - there is no other word to describe it. I am so happy that I can spend this midnight with you! Even though we'll be in our hotel room, far away from Times Square, and you'll be sleeping, and I'll be all alone. Hmm, am I depressed now? Nooooo. Because, this time of year is also when your mommy and daddy became, well, a thing (I'm 12). And those memories, along with the promise of memories to come in 2010, make me smile : )

Happy New Year!

Look, a plane! A stupid plane!

When you were 6 months and 3 days old, I flew with you. Alone. The letter below is actually not a letter to you, it's a letter I never intend on sending to the airline. My form of venting. Your mama's crazy. Enjoy...

Dear Northwest/Delta Airlines,

Shame on you. SHAME! You are bad, bad people. I have been truly disappointed by you, and I will tell you why.

Recently, I flew on a red eye with my 6 month old son... our first flight on our own. Naturally, I was anxious about almost every aspect of the experience, so I allowed myself plenty of time to get through security, to pre-board, etc.

What did I just say? I said PRE-BOARD. You're confused? Silly me... let me explain.

Pre-boarding allows people traveling with small children (therefore one million other things as well) or people who need assistance (like, I don't know, help getting out of their WHEELCHAIR) extra time to board the airplane. Extra time BEFORE the rest of the hurried travelers race for their tiny seats.

So, now that you're familiar with the concept... WHY DON'T YOU OFFER THAT???

That night, I stood near the little man at the door scanning tickets, pushing my stroller back and forth, balancing my diaper bag and my small suitcase in my two arms (only have 2 people) and waited for you to call pre-boarding. I watched as first class skipped through the door like business jolly ranchers. I watched as the "elite gold card members" took their sweet ass time. Soon after, I realized everyone and their mother seem to be in possession of this elite card, so I came to my senses, slipped into aggressive mother mode, and charged to the front of the line...

"I need to board NOW sir."
"That's fine, I just called your row."
"Damn straight you're letting me board NOW because that's what I said. IN YOUR FACE! NOW!"

All charged up, I go to board the plane before the rest of the non-elite. But, by the time I ditch the stroller and car seat on the jetway, gather my belongings and my kid, everyone else is somehow already there. Oh, and there's no room overhead for my stuff as far as the eye can see. Thanks to the stranger in 41B, who offered to hold my son while I dealt with the flight attendant who reluctantly dealt with my bag, I was finally able to board your stupid, ugly airplane. Notice the missing PRE from the word BOARD.

I flew on that red-eye thinking... wow I've really got to pay better attention next time. I totally missed the pre-boarding call! Pull yourself together, Siri, you're a mother now! YOU PRE-BOARD AIRPLANES!

Well, apparently I don't. Because on the return flight when I went to check when pre-boarding was because, you see, I missed it last time, your employee's EMBARRASSED response was, "Well, ma'am, I'm sorry, but they don't like us to announce that anymore."

So I ask you... on what planet is it inconvenient for you to offer a few extra minutes to those in need of it? You used to do it. Why did you stop? Were babies and the elderly pissing on the empty seats? Were other customers complaining that they needed just as much extra time to set up their g4's and their portable dvd players and their fluffy little neck pillows?

It's confusing to me. So one more time... shame on you. SHAME!

This post was way too long.