Rest Easy

I sleep on a 30 year old twin mattress with one, sometimes two, children. It's cozy. We put the function in dysfunctional. But, with the new house, we're trying a new bedtime routine. So, we found ourselves mattress shopping on this fine Memorial Day. Because we're from Oklahoma, our first stop was of course, Mathis Brothers Furniture (I challenge you to say it, not sing it.).

Bargain shopping is my game. I wait eagerly for garage sale season, and even RJ knows that garage sales are awesome. We scored the best Lego set ever for 7 dollars last summer. I'm not opposed to used furniture. I just bought what some may consider the world's ugliest sofa--until they sit on it. It's gold. It's leather (aged Italian leather they tell me). And it's awesome. It is the ugly girl with the terrific personality. It has a friend--the recliner. The recliner is awesome too. I'm working on it with saddle soap. I have faith that by the time RJ is driving, the recliner and sofa will be softer than soft and cleaner than clean. For now, they're the comfiest pieces of furniture we own, and I think I'm going to have to challenge the husband to a duel over the recliner (he has his own). That's saying something since his first comment about it was, "I'm pretty sure someone died in that chair." (No one died in that chair. It's just ugly. Or awesome.). 

I am not offended by used furniture. But, mattresses, it turns out, are a different story. 

Enter the sales pitch: 

Salesman: "We have an exchange program here. Keep it for up to a year. Exchange it two times. No questions asked." 

Me: "That sounds great!"

Salesman: "Now these mattresses are part of that program." 

Me: "That sounds great! These are great prices!"

Salesman: "You can see here on the label from the health department where they've been fumigated." 

Me: "That sounds great! No, wait. Fumigated? Oh my holy cow. You have got to be kidding me." 

And off we went to Bob Mills. He is, after all, the working man's friend. (Okay, so now he's your home's best friend, but I remember the days when he was the working man's friend. And anyone who can rock a purple tie like Bob is my friend.). 

(Disclaimer: Mathis Brothers does sell new mattresses--I was in the hurt furniture room--bargain hunting). 

Bob Mills has a sleep spa (ahh). I didn't know this meant that the husband and I would find ourselves behind a screen resting flat on our backs while a computer analyzed our spine compression ratios, and RJ peered over the end of the bed. "How do you sleep," asked the doctor (he's actually a chiropractor--so they tell us.). "Do you see the four year old peering over the end of the bed?" "That's pretty standard for us." 

The sleep spa is kind of awesome. And nothing had been fumigated. They even gave us our own traveling tissue for our heads in case we wanted to try out some more mattresses. GiGi got cranky. And RJ needed to potty. We severely underestimated the amount of time a sleep analysis would take. We are still without a mattress. 

Tonight, I will sleep in a twin bed with at least one child. Maybe two. But, I will rest easy knowing that my mattress has not been fumigated. (Though maybe the recliner should be). 

Closing the Cover

Every time I finish a good book, I have that day- after -Christmas-it's-really-over let down. I hear a lot about chapters of life. But, lately, it doesn't seem that we so much finished a chapter as we finished a whole book, closed the cover, and tucked it away on a shelf only to be revisited for reference or when it's a rainy day and there's not much else to do.

We said goodbye to our first home. It was a good house. We brought home two new babies. We got snowed in at Christmas and celebrated by wrapping up books that RJ already had since I had been super mom and pre-delivered the presents to grandma's house a week earlier. We drank a few glasses of really good champagne (and lots of pretty bad wine) in that kitchen. I said goodbye to my Catty girl, and we welcomed our Boo and Ben cats.  It's not so much that I'll miss the house. I definitely won't miss the neighbors' dogs or the smell from the Purina plant--they cook a lot of cat chow (Boo and Ben could frequently be found paying homage at the window). But, I'll miss our friends. And the neighborhood pool and park.

We said goodbye to the house with RJ. We goodbyed his "new" room and the kitchen. We thanked the ovens for baking all of the cookies and cakes. We thanked the bath tubs for soaking babies bottoms, and we said goodbye to the dining room, living room, and Sissy's room too. We said goodbye to the vacuum cleaner until Mommy reminded us that the dirt will be following us as will the vacuum cleaner.

I didn't cry when we said goodbye. But then I had to go back for one last look. I picked up the birdbath out of the backyard. And more dish towels out of the drawers. (I swear we had them all when we left the first time. They mated and reproduced. I should have warned the new owners--all of the household junk replicates in that house. There is NO way I carried in that much junk. I am not a hoarder. If I say it enough, it becomes true.).

This was in our couch. All of it. There are shoes in there! How is that possible?!

We have officially arrived at the new house. There are too many boxes to let you inside yet. 

Our book of life has been complicated the past two months. And some goodbyes are harder than most. We said goodbye to the best dog in the whole world. Zeus died while we were on vacation. And I held it together until we got home. Until we got the kids in bed. And until I could finally collapse and mourn the loss of a friend. Sometimes there are moments in life when you wish you had a camera. But you don't. So, you take a mental snapshot and hope it beats the test of time. I remember walking one evening with my dad and Zeus, and we stopped along a concrete retaining wall--Zeus on top, and dad and I sitting. Dad and I both had our arms around Zeus--he was massive then. And stinky. And slobbery. And it was perfect. Zeus was a friend, a confidant, our entertainer, and our protector. Someday I'll tell his story (it involves a stripper, an ice storm, and a parrot--curious?). But for now, we've closed the cover on his book of life. And, we miss him. But, when I see a golf ball, I'll smile and think how he loved to chase them. And, when I hear a squirrel chatter, I'll smile and know that Zeus is talking to him.

Someday, when it's rainy outside, I'll dust off my Book of Zeus and add more pictures. For now, it's too new. Too raw. Too hard. We miss him. 

We said goodbye to three-year old preschool this month too. The last day of school still smells the same as it did when I was 5 . A combination of dry erase markers, dust, Elmer's, construction paper, and flip flops. RJ sang.   He's not shy. He danced a little too. And when I asked him how he got lucky enough to sit by his best friend, his response was, "Ms. Bowlby said she sit on us if we naughty." Wise woman. His little Lutheran school blessed him on his way, and we prayed for a healthy happy summer. We celebrated another year of gymnastics success--though my son has been gently referred to a "stomp and kick" class. We think that's the secret code for "he's delightful and fun, but he still can't do a backward roll after two years, so we're thinking the Olympics aren't in his future." The M & M Olympics, on the other hand, were well within in his reach and he rocked them.

Why yes he did wear a plaid sport coat. 

Why yes, she does have mice on her toes. 

He can balance beam all by himself now!

Club Tumble Town.

This was last year at Club Tumble Town. Stop growing up so fast please! Mommy can't take this!

I cried a little when I left that empty shell of a house. It was a good home. I have good memories there. I cried a lot to say goodbye to Zeus. He was a good dog. The best. I didn't cry when RJ graduated preschool. It's preschool. He's in the living room playing trains right now, not moving into a frat house.  It's sunny today. And I'm content with a side of after-Christmas-it's-really-over let down. The covers have been closed on some books of life. But, someday, when it's rainy, I'll dust off these books and remember.

P.S. GiGi has been along for the ride.

And I think she's okay with that. 

Post Interrupted

We interrupt this regularly scheduled blog post for moving day! We closed on our new house yesterday, and this mommy blogger is shoulder deep in packing paper, tape, boxes, and laundry (because the laundry never ends).

My goals for the next two weeks:

1.  Finish my vacation tales.

2.  Put away my spices and cook at least one meal in our new kitchen.

3.  Snuggle RJ whenever he asks. Moving is hard.

4.  Survive!

In the meantime...

RJ's Mother's Day tea

GiGi went to the tea too. She was not amused. But she was dressed for the occasion.

GiGi started crawling. And there's nothing quite so cute as a big bottomed baby crawling around my house. Except maybe the sound of her Huggie rustling when she moves; that's pretty cute too. 

We went to Edmond's "Touch a Truck." RJ touched a police car, a fire truck, and a sheriff's car too. Best day ever.

He drove.

And drove.

Mother's Day. My boys picked out a Thunder shirt for me. I think they're just excited that I'm remotely interested in any sporting event. RJ wanted to Thunder up that day too: "We two are dressed like thunder."

RJ had his fun day at school; they "swam" in shaving cream. 

No caption needed. 

And just because it's Wednesday, and mommy felt like playing baby doll dress-up. 

Cream Cheese Mints

Every time we go to a wedding shower or a baby shower, my mom and I giggle and wonder if there will be cream cheese mints. Cream cheese mints: cream cheese, butter, and powdered sugar all rolled around together, mixed with a delightful hint of peppermint, and molded into cute little shapes.

We giggle because when I was four, we (myself and my four-year old classmates) made cream cheese patti-mints for our Mother's Day Tea. ("patti-mints" because that's what we did--we pattied the cream cheese and sugar with our precious little four year old hands. There was no Purell in 1981. Think about it.).

And so, when we see cream cheese mints, we wonder whose fingers were patti-minting.  If ever I doubted that my mother loves me, I remember this: she ate those patti-mints. With a smile. Without Purell.

Today was my patti-mint day; it was RJ's Mother's Day Tea. His teacher has taught him to be a gentleman. He took me by my hand, led me carefully to my seat. I squatted in his three-year old sized chair and tried to delicately adjust my skirt over my knees. A lady does not show her panties at the Mother's Day Tea--but it's awfully hard to squat in a toddler chair like a lady.

There was Purell--his teacher made sure we all got some. They served us cookies. RJ ate mine. They gave us presents. RJ tried to carefully disassemble mine. He sat in my lap. To the uneducated eye, it looked as though he was snuggling with me in the chair. He was not. He was trapped. I had a pinch hold on his leg under the table. He was trying to kick his sister in her carrier.

RJ sang a special Mother's Day song with his class. I almost cried. GiGi did cry--she wanted her crackers. RJ's classmate spilled the crackers in the floor. She enjoyed the tea with her mommy. This mommy got the broom and did what mommies do best--clean up messes.

There weren't any cream cheese mints. And RJ ate my cookies and drank my lemonade. It's almost Mother's Day; I think I'll make some patti-mints and send them back home. Being a mom isn't easy. Being appreciative is.

Thanks for eating the patti-mints, Mom.

Family Vacation: Chapter 4

Day Three: We're at Disney World. (!) Still. It's magical! Still. We greeted the morning in our hotel restaurant. "Look! It's the monorail!" Says mommy, "I know. It was a monorail yesterday. And the day before. Is that a bird on the juice machine?" (Without her sewing kit to fix Cinderella's sash, she's looking a little mangy.).

"Look! It's i-ron man!" RJ is pumped. The monorail is painted up for The Avengers. I have no idea who the Avengers are. Neither does he. But he's pumped. Four days of lollipops and maple syrup will do that for you. (At this point, he is channeling Buddy the Elf--all he eats is sugar).

With breakfast finished, we're off to the Magic Kingdom--with Gma C in tow. I hope she ate her Wheaties.

We rode the magic carpets of Aladdin. "The camels spit! I gonna spit back!" (Fast forward to that night at the hotel, and spitting back doesn't seem like such a good idea. RJ spit on his mommy when he realized that bedtime comes--even in the Magic Kingdom).

Me: "Hey RJ! Let's ride the Jungle Cruise!"

RJ: "No! I wanna ride race cars!"

Tomorrow, tomorrow...you're only a day away. Just as Tommorowland is only a short walk away.

Day Three: Still going. We swam. And swam. And rode the water slide. We ate poolside as only Disney can offer--Mouse ice cream sandwiches. We're at Disney World! Woo-Hoo! (it takes longer to get going with each passing day).

Day Three: Dinner with Pooh and Friends. "I'm sorry, what's your name? I don't see you on the list." What? "Sorry folks, park's closed." It's that kind of moment. For a brief flash of time, I recall Clark Griswold holding John Candy at gunpoint on a roller coaster. I know where he's coming from.

We're on the list! We made the list! We get to eat with Pooh! The buffet is kid friendly and adult friendly too. Despite the surprisingly grown up fare, I feel the need to inhale my chicken and salad. There's a lot of activity. And a lot of spilling. Just a lot of everything. RJ forgot his autograph book. I convince him that Pooh and his friends haven't gone to preschool and can't write their names anyway.

GiGi turns seven months old today. Every month on his "birthday," I took RJ's picture with the stuffed puppy his Poppy brought him to the hospital. I've done the same with GiGi. The puppy was the first thing to make it into the suitcase. And we got the pictures done. At Disney World!

Day Three: "Look! Curb space!" This is prime parade real estate. GiGi and I hold down the pavement. This will turn out to be one of my favorite memories. She gave me baby sugars, and I snuggled her chubby thighs. We watched the pre-parade shows in the shadow of Cinderella's castle and watched a miniature Cinderella (whose real name was Caroline) twirl in the pixie dust. Some moments aren't captured on a camera, but you know that you'll remember them forever. This was one of those moments.

Meanwhile....RJ rides the race cars. Again.

Day Three: No really, it's still Day Three. The Main Street Electrical Parade. Thousands of sparkling lights. A theme song I can't forget. (No. Really. I can't forget it. It's like the casino noises that still ring in your head long after you've returned to your hotel room in Vegas.).

We make it back to the hotel. RJ spits in my face. He sits in time out. Time out means the kitchenette. There's just a lot of family time at Disney World. A lot.  It is a magical night. Disney World starts to have that effect after three days.

Day Four: We're at Disney World. Mommy and GiGi are going to shop with our discount coupon. The rest of you are not invited. We will see you in two hours. Or two days. Or two weeks.

The boys swim with Gma C. GiGi and Mommy shop. We consider princess dresses. And then we think not. GiGi will decide which princess she is on her own time. We nap. We swim.

Day Four: Hollywood Studios. I'm not a movie junkie. I still haven't seen The Shawshank Redemption (Yes, I'm serious. Stop judging me.). But, rumor has it that Lightening McQueen lives at Hollywood Studios.

We take a bus. RJ rides "alone," across from the rest of us. He looks strangely like a 40-year old business man commuting to the bank. We eat dinner at the Prime Time Cafe--a restaurant designed to make you feel like you're eating in a 1950's sitcom. It feels strangely home like. And I realize that we may be in the strong minority in that we eat dinner together every night at the table. I appreciate that I'm able to bring this little bit of Disney magic home.

It's Lightening McQueen! I'm thinking Lightening will talk. Or rev his engine. Or show me his spark plugs. But he doesn't. All he does is sit. So does 'Mater. I'm rather disappointed. RJ is not. And I am grateful.

"RJ, do you want to watch a Muppet movie?"

"No. I want to go to bed." (It really is magical here!).

We stop and watch Jedi training. It's kind of like Vo-Tech for 8-year olds wanting to join the Jedi Knights--there's a trainer: "Oh, who's that on your shirt? Minnie Mouse? Yes. Yes. She can't help you now!"

There's Darth Vader. He's about 5 foot tall and is pretty accommodating to the knee knockers and their training sabers. At the end they're certified and have marketable skills.

RJ has never seen Star Wars. He would like an Ewok as a pet. He wants a light saber. He gets a light saber. He swings the light saber in front of us as we stroll out of the park. People scatter. Mommy takes the light saber.

We're at Disney World! It is time to sleep. (Thank God).

The Pictures:

We swam. 

GiGi sunned. Not in a suntan kind of way. In a "my mommy makes me wear SPF 60" kind of way.

Gma C visited.

GiGi has had it.

Oral fixations. 

I am seven months old!

RJ lollipops. (Lollipops--it's now a verb).

Someday we'll think it's cute that there's a lollipop in his mouth in every picture. Actually, I think it's pretty cute right now. 

You have got to be kidding me. It's a tiger. This is not okay. 

Make a wish RJ!

Absolutely jazzed to be riding the race cars. Again.

There is no more excited little boy in the park right at this precise moment. 

And finally, finally, it is time to sleep. 

Waiting on the bus. I take pride in the fact that my child is sitting on the chair, not crawling on the table behind it. I will not be so proud on Day Six. 

Lightening McQueen!

Mater!

I don't know what this thing is, but Daddy was more excited than all of the rest of us. 

Watching Jedi training. Real Jedi's don't have Cookie Monster underpants. I'm grateful that RJ isn't a real Jedi yet. Because Cookie Monster underpants make me smile. 

There's a light saber. In the double stroller. This seems like a good idea. 

And we shall see how it turns out...in Chapter 4. 

Family Vacation--Chapter Two

Day Two:  We're at Disney World! The guidebooks all tell you, "Get up early. Be at the park when it opens." What they don't tell you is how to convince a four year old and a seven month old that the bell does in fact toll for them.  And their parents. No amount of alarm clocks could roust my twosome in time for opening. Not that I tried too hard. I don't do mornings. Mouse or otherwise.

But, we did have a breakfast date with the Mouse. And his girlfriend. Breakfast at Chef Mickey's isn't for the faint of heart. Or the hungover (not that we were--drinks aren't prohibited per se, but the Magic Kingdom isn't exactly pouring appletini's over at the Starlight Cafe). There's just a lot of noise in Chef Mickey's restaurant. Particularly at 7 CST.

But RJ was tickled. He ate real food, breakfast pizza with eggs! He took his autograph duties seriously. Each and every character signed his book. RJ signed his own book too. "Look! It's Minnie!" He's a man after all. Minnie is cute, and she wears high heels.  GiGi was tickled too; or rather, she was a tickler. She tickled Pluto's nose and charmed Goofie too.

We took full advantage of the magic that day. GiGi and I dressed alike (courtesy of grandma of course). We Tink'ed it out, and I felt as pretty as all of the miniature princesses that ran into my knees all day long.

Day Two: (It just keeps going): RJ has worn a shag since he was about 10 months old. I cut his hair. Only one thing could cause me to get him a real hair cut: Disney World! They have a barber shop! We had RJ's first real hair cut done on Main Street. He was brave (he didn't even ask for a lollipop). He did, however, tell his barber that he didn't want sprinkles (glitter) in his hair. It worried him. Secretly I think every father hopes that his son is worried about glitter in his hair. Mommy was brave too. But she was kind of wishing for an appletini. Or maybe some sprinkles in his hair. He looks so grown up! But, his four years old now. Just ask him. He'll tell you.

The hotel pool was RJ's favorite part of the trip--aside from the airplane ride. "What's your favorite ride, RJ?" "The airplane!" Swimming with GiGi, I looked up, and up, and up. There was an adorable little boy going down a three story slide. Holy moly! That's my adorable little boy!

Day Two: We did battle. I severely underestimated the number of people. They traveled in packs. And they carried packs. Packs of water. Packs of fairy dust. But no packs of gum. Disney doesn't sell gum. Just lollipops. We discovered the race cars. RJ earned his driver's license--a good thing since we rode the race cars nine (NINE) more times.

Day Two: Peter Pan lives in Never Never Land. It is no coincidence that Peter Pan's flight lands him in the Magic Kingdom where days never, never end. If you're really, really careful, and you listen closely at about 9:30 pm, you can hear the sounds of fairies giggling. They're laughing at you. You just got trapped by the Main Street Electrical Parade. We rode the race cars again. And we snagged a seat on the Buzz Lightyear ride too. RJ was terrified. The guidebooks describe it as a mild ride appropriate for toddlers. Maybe so, if your toddler is accustomed to nightclubs where each booth is equipped with its own laser shooter. By the end, even RJ was excited. He's seen one Toy Story movie, and I promise he didn't really know who Buzz was. But he sure knew he wanted a laser shooter from the gift shop. (That or another lollipop. I like his teeth. He got a laser shooter.).

The laser shooter saved the day. RJ used it to shoot the fireworks. I love fireworks. I mean, I love fireworks. There's just something about them that makes me feel like I'm 10. Add a Disney castle, my two babies, and my husband, and it was a perfectly magical night (yes, my husband was actually on the trip too).  And, while we thought the day would never, never end, it did. And thanks to Google, we found our way home by foot, avoiding the packs on the monorail (and their scooters too).

"This hotel room seems smaller? Is it getting smaller?" Nah. I'm imagining things.

The pictures:  

He really, really went down this slide. 

He ate! Real food!

Chef Mickey made him a special birthday cake. 

And, Mickey sat down and visited too. 

(Do his eyes look a little sunken and beady to you? Nah. Sleep deprivation. It's Disney World!)

I am pretty certain that RJ had no idea who Donald Duck was until precisely 7 seconds before these pictures. But he was thrilled just the same. 

Baby's first haircut. Renee was from Chicago, and she was wonderful. We were duly impressed by the employees at Disney World. They must feed them sugar and syrup for breakfast, lunch and dinner for them to be that energetic and sweet. Because, the day never, never ends. 

See, I told you my husband was on the trip too.

Day Two: The double stroller has a missing occupant. She wants a lollipop. She can't have a lollipop. He wants to touch her. She doesn't want him to touch her. She is now in the front pack.

We didn't manage to pull the sword from the stone.

Lollipop, lollipop, oh lollie, lollie, lollie, lollipop!

We Tink'ed it out. 

GiGi Tinks better than Mommy. 

At this point, he has not slept in two days. 

RJ loved the giant ball. No shocker there. 

His driver's license. Fortunately for Mommy (and the rest of us on the highways), the real thing is still a few years away. 

There's still a missing occupant. But rest assured, RJ has saved the world from the fireworks. 

To be continued...because it's Disney World! (and the days never, never end).