Our Fair City

The weather has started to turn. On most days, we can see the sun. April's showers have delivered and May should be a gloriously flowered month. To celebrate our release from the doom and gloom of winter, we hit the town and visited many of St. Louis's celebrated attractions.

 

Friday afternoon was spent at the Missouri Botanical Gardens with Team Botanical. I mean, who else would you go with? The highlight of the trip for Annie was chasing Big Girl Mary Clare around the fountain. And coloring. Because you can only do that at the Botanical Gardens.

Saturday involved a trip to the Magic House. Rick always likes to scope out the competition. Annie likes to go fishing. Get ready, Big Daddy!

I think she's doing this wrong. I stopped taking pictures just in time to keep her from wedging herself into this opening.

Here we are learning about the Judicial Branch of our government. Apparently all judges do is yell "cah-caooooowwww!" repeatedly into a microphone.

Because we weren't COMPLETELY exhausted yet, Sunday was a zoo day. And when you are there 30 seconds after it opens, you get to see lots of animals up close without battling yay-hoos in fanny packs.

Hippos. They freak me out. I don't think this plexiglass is thick enough. I think Rick agreed.

 

BUMBOS (Dumbos)!!!! The obvious highlight of the trip. I believe this photo also captures Annie trying to be one with the Bumbos by making a large deposit in her diaper. We changed her on a rock. Another benefit to being the first people at the zoo.

 

Brushing goats with Dad.

 

"I just ran down this entire hill without falling! I am a very big kid."

 

 

If it looks like a lot....it was. But it was also great to be out of the house and doing something besides playing with Thomas the Train or watching Cinderella. And it also reminded me that while St. Louis is not what most would consider the coolest place to live, it does have a lot of cool places you can drag your child.

 

 

Weather permitting, of course.

 

The Questionably Great Chicago Trip of 2013

I was ready. This was going to be my first solo flying effort with Annie. We were super-organized. We had packed all our clothes into Rick's backpack and my diaper bag. Zero excess. No checking bags here. No siree. Not when I had to get the babe on the train post-flight and walk half a mile to the hotel. This was the Ironman of our traveling experiences. I was pumped. And terrified.

 

By the time we got through security, I was sweating and seriously hating my decision to try to look like a "cute Mom" in my tight wool sweater, skinny jeans and tall boots. We made it through without incident but I could tell we were getting some looks. Then annie took off on me while I was putting my boots back on so I had to chase her around in my socks (that were pulled up over the cuffs of my skinny jeans, natch) all over the airport. That was humbling. But we got it together and after what seemed like 100 years they called our flight to board. Somehow, whatever paper work we had for Annie, that got us through security, was not sufficient to board the plane and I had to get out of line to board and go talk to the ticketing agent. Now, mind you, I had already folded up the stroller, which I was somehow carrying with three fingers, while holding the tray for it with the other two, my purse across my chest, diaper bag (bulging with crap for three people) over my shoulder, and other hand in hand with Annie's. I had already calculated that I could only sustain this level of effort the time it would take me to get down the jetway so to say this was a setback is a bit of an understatement.

 

But Cute Mom is only to be outshone by "I Have My Shiz Together Mom", so I briefly berated the guy taking the tickets, and shuffled away with Annie towards the ticketing counter. Annie really rubbed it in that guy's face because she totally melted down screaming "that way!!!! AIWWWPANE!" when she realized we weren't getting on the plane. I stopped, looked down at her, pointed to "the guy" and said "That man won't let us". And we moved on. Ultimately, we got on the plane and arrived in Chicago without incident. And I didn't cry. Much.

 

The train from the airport to the hotel was a huge hit, though Annie wanted out of her stroller the whole time.

After naps, we met up with Godparents Matt and Stephanie before their big date night. Rick met up with us at the restaurant and we had a great time catching up. Annie was a bit out of sorts and cranky but I just attributed that to her being wiped out from the travel and a new setting.

 

I was wrong.

 

We woke up at 2:30 am to coughing. Annie had spit up a bit of her dinner (which was 85% pickles). No big deal. Rick cleaned up the little pickle chunks and all went back to bed. 15 minutes later...a larger volume of pickle chunks. At this point we were being optimistic that maybe she just OD-ed on pickles and surely it wouldn't be a stomach bug. 20 minutes later...pickles and fruit. And tater tots. And everything else.

 

And so it went. Rick had to go to an auction for work so he left around 9. I originally was distraught about having all of this go down at a hotel, but then I realized....I AM IN A HOTEL! I can get all the clean sheets and towels I want. And I don't have to wash them! We took full advantage of this, covering all surfaces with towels and sheets, and then ordering new ones as needed. There was a bowl in the kitchen that should have been put to death after all it went through, but we had anti-bacterial wipes and washed it thoroughly so I am sure the next person will be fine. If you hear about an outbreak of stomach flu at a Residence Inn in chicago....you know nothing.

Annie napped in between vomits.

This pillow should probably also be burned.

We had a break in the barfing at around 9:30, so I felt safe letting her lay on me. Plus, I learned her pre-barf noises so I could get the "bowl of doom" if needed.

After about an hour and a half of puke free time, I let her have some more water. Apparently she was parched because she took down this entire bottle in no time. I was apparently feeling optimistic that the worst was behind us because I let this happen.

See, she even looked better.

 

But then, there was a burp. And a spray of water-vomit that coated everything in a 10 foot radius. Including me. Did I mention we had zero wiggle room in our vacation wardrobe? That means, when the only clothes you have that aren't skinny jeans and one of two wool sweaters gets puked on, you have to do laundry at the hotel.

 

So once I was sure the puking had stopped, we did laundry. Annie loved it. There is probably about $6 in extra change in each machine up there thanks to her.

And Mommy almost left poor Whammy #3 in the washer drum. Then we would be down to two in our possession, which would be dire (one has been left at a friend's house and I am basically leaving it there for safe keeping; no pressure Amanda).

Puking stopped for a few hours, appetite had returned and I don't learn any lessons from previous experiences because my fear of her dehydrating overshadowed my fear of her puking. It was, after all, just a hotel.

 

But there was no more puke.

Certain that I was next in line for this lovely gift, I stuffed my face with Giordano's pizza, secure in the knowledge that the calories wouldn't count and I would be seeing this pizza again in a few hours.

 

That didn't happen either. Shows you what I know.

Annie and Daddy made soap art in the shower, which she called "raining".

 

And then it was over. We were in bed by 8:30.

 

We woke up the next day refreshed and in true Erwin fashion, we jam-packed an entire city into one 3 hour window before our flight left.

The Bean

The Mom that Survived the Apukalypse

Family portrait

And this one got her own seat flying home and was all "hey wasnt' that trip fun? We should do this again some time!".

 

And no one else got sick. That we know of.

Toddler Theatrics

We are going through a phase at Casa de Erwin. I believe the experts call it "testing what shiz you can get away with". I like to call it "Let's Find Mommy's Limits". Annie's always trying new and fun exciting things like executing a near-perfect trust fall into me on her way down the stairs or mashing a banana into her head. These toddlers are a strange breed, yo.

And she's really picked up a lot of new words and phrases, which, I guess, is what they are supposed to be doing. I should probably pick up some sort of toddler development pamphlet or something. But she seems to be developing at lightning speed right now so ain't nobody got time for a development book.

Her newly developed language skills and boundary pushing were shown this morning as she yelled various things from her crib (before you think we let her languish in there for hours, this litany was spouted off in approximately 90 seconds):

Ahhhh done! (all done)
Mommeeeee/Daddeeeee (x1,256)
Ella! (yelled until she found cinderella)
MIMI! (yelled until she found mimi/binkie)

Then when she realized our parental response time was not to her satisfaction:

OH NO! HELP MEEEE!

This got Rick's attention and he came bounding up the stairs. I was in the bathroom right next to her door and could see her on the monitor, so I knew she was fine. I hear him swoop in:

R: Hey! What's wrong?
A: Bites?

Apparently the emergency was that it was past her preconceived acceptable breakfast hour. Perhaps it's time for the ol' "Boy Who Cried Wolf" tale around these parts.

Gotcha!

Because it has taken me 15 years to learn that the local grocery store chain is closed on Easter, I sent Rick to the store on Saturday for Easter provisions, which were primarily pastries and mimosa fixin's.

Side note: I would like to add that Chaney and Liza's families joined us for the day and were aware that we were making mimosas. I advised that if they wanted to get serious, they might want to bring extra. Both brought extra bottles of champagne. No extra orange juice. Priorities, people.


The pastries were no problem because that's something that's in Rick's wheelhouse. He excels at pastry procurement. Champagne is another story. Apparently it took quite a while to even locate this in the store and, when located, he was forced to call me to assist in the decision making process.

I chose to take advantage of this weak spot during our preparations on Sunday morning:

K: Did you get non-alcoholic champagne on purpose (mustering up my most scary disapproving wife face)?
R: No! What? Is that even a thing? I got what you told me to get!
K: April Fools!
R: There are 31 days in March, Kaly.

Joke's on me.

Easter 2013

After last week's panic attack regarding how to pull off a holiday which involves gift giving (I was apparently raised by wolves, or Jehovah's witnesses, according to Debbie), I'd like to think I was relatively calm. I guess putting all my concerns down on internet paper and hearing everyone's proclamations that I was taking it all too seriously was like cheap therapy. As long as these kids don't start comparing notes, I think all will be hunky dory.

I did have one teeny tiny moment where I demanded Rick assist me in the wee morning hours to go out and hide the eggs because I was terrified that if we waited, the neighbor kids would see us and they would know there wasn't an Easter Bunny. I think that's my main concern: ruining other kid's beliefs in holiday creatures. I am apparently perfectly content with ruining my own child's beliefs.

Since I am sure the blogs will be filled with easter recaps I will keep it short:

Annie looked super cute and declared her outfit "pretty", which is the ultimate goal for her these days.

You really should heed the age recommendations on toys. This wand was for 5+ years. When wielded by an almost 2 year old, it is a very dangerous weapon.

Older cousins make egg hunting much more fun.

An extra long train at the end of the day was a perfect end to a great day.

Can we just take a moment to admire that baby belly coming out from under that size 2T shirt. Delish.