Love, Thor (Banner), Ironman (Gypsy Kitty),
Captain America (Alley Cat) and Spiderman (Haskell)
And, yes, I know Spiderman isn't an Avenger.
All the Hulk dog costumes available online last week were XS,
and there was SIMPLY no way Haskell was fitting in that! ;P
Because getting a picture of the dogs
(and the backs of their shirts) was IMPOSSIBLE with Banner.
A blurry attempt at a family photo in the backyard.
There is a reason there aren't many!
Heading out...
Ban said a jumble of words that sounded enough like "trick
or treat" to pass as acceptable. It helped that he is just so
(darn) cute. Next year we need to work on NOT barging
into stranger's homes, waking their babies and otherwise
making himself at home. You know: Baby steps.
I turned on the baby monitor. He was dancing and making faces at the camera like he knew I was watching.
He was also completely naked.
Terrified, I ran into the nursery. Banner, excited to see me, exclaimed, "Mama! Poo-poo!"
Dear God, no!
And it wasn't. But that's only because Banner gets the words poo-poo and pee-pee confused. I think it is because the two word are so similar, involve the potty and start with the letter "p". But I digress: The nursery was covered in urine.
I stood there frozen for at least half a minute. I think I was hoping it was all a nightmare, and that I'd wake up back in my own bed.
No such luck.
Even after I accepted that wasn't a dream, it STILL took awhile to process what I was seeing. Namely a toddler who was celebrating in his pee soaked crib like it was a national holiday. He was simply thrilled with the situation.
Me? Less so.
After the initial shock wore off, I decided the most important thing was to get Banner cleaned up and back in a diaper. And, just like before, it is a good thing I did. Because less than twenty seconds after taking him off the changing table and turning my attention to the task of stripping the crib, he pooped. Which, in itself, wasn't that big of a deal. Except this particular poop that demanded immediate attention because Banner started chanting "Poo-poo! Poo-poo!" and started trying to shove his hand into the back of his diaper.
So, I dropped everything, and turned my attention to the task of changing my second diaper before 7 AM. A diaper, might I add, that stank to high heaven and needed immediate relocation to the trash bin outside. Except I was still in my jammies and my toddler started announcing he was hungry. So, I washed my hands, threw a waffle in the toaster, peeled a orange, threw it all on a plate and served it to Ban before finding my flip flops, picking back up said dirty diaper and heading outside in the predawn darkness to throw it away.
Instead of calmly eating his breakfast in the 20 seconds it would have taken me to walk to/from the trash bin, Banner decided to follow me outside. Where he noticed that one of my neighbor's decorative ghosts had fallen out of the tree in last night's rain AND DECIDED TO BOLT AT TOP SPEED TO GO GET IT. And I had to sprint after because those neighbors never pick up after their dogs in the front yard and my kid was wearing nothing but a diaper.
Luckily, I managed to grab him before he stepped in anything undesirable, but in the process he had noticed that we had a newspaper in our driveway (we don't subscribe, but randomly get them anyway). Which he had to pick up OR HE WOULD DIE even though it was soaking wet and dripping everywhere. He wanted to take it inside, but I worked out a compromise where he got to experience the thrill of tossing it inside the recycle bin. Except then he freaked out because I followed up with tossing the dirty diaper in the trash, and he apparently wanted to do that too.
OMG, CRISIS!
Which was why my toddler had a tantrum at 7 AM in our driveway. I'm sure our neighbors were thrilled.
I picked up the kid, carried him back inside, washed both our hands and plopped him back in front of his breakfast. But he wouldn't stay there, so I brought his breakfast back to our bedroom in the hopes that he would eat it there while I got dressed. No such luck. But I pressed on anyway, because what choice did I have? Which was how I temporarily lost him while washing my face and panicked...before discovering him hiding under our bed.
Banner emerged with Trevor's baseball bat in his hands and a dust bunny clinging to his foot. I relocated the bat to the top of the closet, carried Banner back into his room, wiped him down (AGAIN) and slapped some clothes on his back...ALLbefore realizing it was Halloween and he needed to wear jeans and a festive shirt to school today.
Sh*t.
So, I grabbed a more appropriate outfit out of his closet, but Banner didn't want to change and had hidden in his circus tent in the corner. So I had to resort to bribery with a wind-up bunny, wrestle him out of the outfit he was currently wearing and into another before dragging him back into my room so I could (FINALLY, OMG) get dressed for work.
I somehow managed to put on Tuesday's jeans and a top when I realized Banner still hadn't eaten very much. So I heated up these gluten-free French toast sticks he normally loves but (of course) wasn't interested in TODAY. How do I know? Because I walked in half a second too late (after making my lunch in the kitchen) to discover him feeding them to the dogs . So, I tossed the Awesome Pawsome outside, grabbed a squeezie and some crackers, and started loading Banner into the car. He sucked down the squeezie but refused the crackers and started asking for "wa-wa". So I strapped him in his car seat, ran back in the house and grabbed him a sippy cup filled with water.
I'm about to open the garage door to back out, when I remembered that I don't have my phone. So I go back inside to grab that. Good thing, too, because I discovered that I'd forgotten to turn on the (freaking) alarm.
Finally, though, everything is locked up properly and Banner and I backed out of the driveway and headed to daycare. Except it isn't until...
...I'm walking into his classroom that I realize I am still wearing the flip flops I put on to take Banner's poopy diaper to the trash.
...I get to the office that I realize I never finished stripping the urine soaked sheets out of Banner's crib.
...9:30 AM that I realized that I never hit the ON button on the office coffee pot after adding water and grounds.
...10 AM that I realize I never put deodorant on this morning.
Some mornings should come with warning labels. Or do overs. Or a little bit of IRISH in your coffee.
Banner loves his doggies, and has to chase/pet/hug/talk to them multiple times a day. He insists on "helping" to feed them and finds it hysterical when they obey his commands to "sit" or "go outside".
He has also started to blame them for things. Like this morning when I heard a crash while changing into my bathing suit for our 10:15 swim class. I emerged from the back of the house to find a mess of toys that had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor from one of the storage bins in the office. I said, "Uh-oh! What happened here?" To which Banner promptly replied "Aye-ee" (Alley) and pointed at Haskell lying on his dog bed in the corner.
Stinker.
But, mostly, Banner's relationship with the Awesome Pawsome is pretty sweet. I'm not 100% sure he can tell them apart and I would bet money that he thinks there are more than three. But when he insists on finding and hugging each one of his four legged siblings, my heart melts. After all, it isn't every dog that is patient enough to put up with a toddler. And, yet, we were somehow blessed with three (although, I'm pretty sure Haskell is just in it for all the extra food Banner drops on the floor).
I saw this car on the way to drop Ban off at day care yesterday:
It was going fast and zipping in and out of lanes in an effort to get wherever as quickly as possible.
We were at a light when I first noticed the handicapped plates. But it wasn't until I passed the Mustang later on (I was turning right at a light and they were going straight), that I realized the driver and passenger of the the car (both women) were easily 80-85+ years old. They were staring straight ahead and nodding their heads slowly to a beat I couldn't hear.
Quite frankly, the only way it could have been any more fabulous is if I could have heard - no, FELT - the beat as my car as coasted past theirs. BOOM! BOOM!! BOOM!!!
When I'm in my eighties, my goal is to be exactly like them: sporting around town in a brand new Shelby Mustang with a racing stripe, zipping in and out of traffic with my handicapped plates and my BFF riding shotgun. Listening to some wicked tunes on the radio and just, well...cruising the town at 8 AM on a Thursday.
Trevor needed one last corny dog, and I thought Banner might like to see the Chinese lanterns. So we packed up the car on Saturday after naptime, and headed to Fair Park.
Apparently, we weren't the only ones eager to enjoy one last fair day. The park was super packed, and the VIP lot that I normally park in was way over capacity. Luckily, I had made friends with the parking attendant, and she told me about a "secret spot". To everyone else, it looked like a cedar tree. But in reality, it was just big enough for a car. You just had to trust the attendant and drive into the branches to the left with faith that your front bumper wasn't about to meet a tree trunk or anything solid.
And in case you are curious: my car didn't even get scratched. I did, however, manage to get bits of cedar tree in my underwear. I don't even pretend to understand how that was possible.
The weather on Saturday was absolutely beautiful. The sun was bright and warm, but it was still cool enough to warrant a sweatshirt or light jacket - especially in the shade. It almost felt like fall.
Having seen most of the Midway with the Vogts and Drinkwines a couple of weeks before, Trevor and I decided to visit a less frequented part of the park this time around. I had been hearing about how good the tamales and beer were over at Texas Discovery Gardens since the fair began, so we made a beeline over in that direction to check it out. With admission to the gardens, you got access to not only the butterfly house, but a snake exhibit and a variety of not-fried yumminess and local brew on tap. It was a little pricey, but what about a trip to the fair isn't?
Banner and I split one vegan and one shredded chicken tamale, while Trevor had a chicken pesto wrap. Very yum.
After dinner, we took Banner out on the grounds to run around. It was nice to have a break from the fair crowds for a bit. He hissed at the snakes, tromped through the gardens and marveled at the fountains of "wa-wa". He even enjoyed the butterfly house (although many of the butterflies had gone "night-night" by the time we finally got in there).
The best part, from Banner's perspective at least, was the fact that he got a sticker. Granted, it was just an admissions sticker, but the little tyke has be OBSESSED with "stick-as" for awhile now. His favorite part was sticking and unsticking said sticker. It never got old. He had it on his nose for at least five minutes. The kid cracks me up. He is a sticker maniac. He accidentally dropped it at one point and was all, "stick-a, stick-a....NOOOOooooo!"
It is nice he found something he liked, because - otherwise - Banner does not seem to be a big fan of the State Fair. He won't eat any of the fried food, and just stares at the throngs of people, noises and attractions.
Don't believe me? Here is a recap of photos from the 2013 State Fair.
Banner's reaction to his first ride:
The spinning bears:
The midway:
The automobile show:
And, finally, having his picture made with the new Big Tex:
Banner is not amused by the State Fair of Texas.
Sigh. Maybe next year.
Although, to be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about Big Tex 2.0. I only heard him speak ONCE, and he was doing an advertisement for mattresses in the Centennial Building. It didn't seem right. Whatever happened to "Howdy, Folks"?
Also, has Big Tex always been neck-less?
Once it got dark, we headed to the lagoon to see Chinese lantern exhibit. We went LAST YEAR but the exhibit was completely redone for this fall. It is definitely a sight to behold. Banner LOVED roaring at the dragons.
Made entirely of porcelain.
I also think he would have enjoyed watching the acrobats, but people are a$$hats sometimes. We arrived early and sat on the grass. But when the performance began, these people came out of nowhere and stood right in front of us. No one could see behind them, and there was much muttering about "some people" around us. I was tempted to say something or ask them to sit down, but more and more people followed their lead and walked up to stand next to them. I guess since they arrived late, they figured blocking the view for 2/3rds of the audience was completely appropriate and justified.
(Grumble)
It was going on 8 PM, though, and Banner was rubbing his eyes. We cut our losses and headed back out on the grounds.
After a stop at Fletcher's for that last Bird Dog (which Trevor and I split), we swung by the Embarcadero to take a gander at this year's butter sculpture.
Much like the new Big Tex, I don't know how I felt about it. Part of me was like, "Awww, Big Tex" and the other was like, "Huh. Well, that's a little creepy".
After that, it was back to the car. Both Trevor and I assumed liberating the Envoy from the cedar tree would be complicated (especially since we had been partially parked in by a white pickup), but we were out of there in no time. And Banner? He was passed out before he drove out of the gate.
Text conversation I had with my husband this morning around 6:45 AM:
Of course, THIS is what I mean by Banner's "Stewy Routine". Except I don't suddenly scream, "What?!" and he doesn't call me Lois. I just stare at the baby monitor and try to figure out how much time I have until the diaper comes completely off.
(And, yes, I realize it is actually spelled S-T-E-W-I-E. In my defense, it wasn't even dawn yet.)
(And, no. I have no idea why Trevor responded with "R". At the time, I thought he was calling me a pirate, but later I remember that is spelled A-R-R-G-G-G. I can only assume he was being his usual unsupportive self or patting himself on the back for narrowly escaping the insanity by going to the gym at 5:30 AM.)
As it turns out, I had about 15 seconds after sending my last text before Banner's birthday suit made an appearance on the monitor. I'm very glad I made the decision to go in there and deal with it immediately, because - not two minutes after I slapped a clean diaper on that kiddo - he pooped. Thank goodness the new diaper had it covered, because I don't do "Oops, I pooped the crib" before 7 AM.
Just as I predicted, it took nearly three times as long to get dressed this morning as usual, because it is hard to wash your face and make sure your toddler isn't trying to unintentionally kill himself simultaneously. Especially since said toddler has decided he doesn't want what you made him for breakfast and insists on following you around the bedroom and picking up everything he knows he can't have.
So, out of desperation, I made the little guy something else to eat, which he initially seemed interested in. But, in reality, he was really just faking me out, because when I used the omgthekidissittingatthetableeatinghappily moment to run into the dog run for 60 seconds to pick up after the Awesome Pawsome - BANNER LOCKED THE DOOR. In case you are wondering, crawling back into my house via the doggie door before I've had a single cup of coffee, isn't necessarily my definition of a "good start to the day".
(Nor, for that matter, is learning that your son is suddenly tall enough to lock and unlock doors. Lord, help us.)
But it was all good, because - just when I thought I could take no more insanity this morning - Banner ran up and gave me the tightest hug ever with this big ole, silly-happy grin on his face.
And then I saw this on Facebook on Sunday, which totally made me giggle because omg, perfect timing:
As does Trevor's insistence that his lack of beard makes him "look years younger", and his nightly recap of all the women that have fawned over his hairless mug and stroked his clean shaven face in the last twenty-four hours.
(Which? Weird, right?)
I'm pretty sure he would have shaved months ago if he had known he'd get this much attention.
In fact, his only source of disappointment seems to stem from the fact that Banner was completely unfazed by the sudden lack of facial hair on "Dad-dee". This is probably the fault of my genetics because the people in my family are nothing but unobservant. Trevor once had his front tooth fixed, and I didn't notice...FOR DAYS. He finally had to tell me, and I was all, "Oh, yeah! You did!"
And then I felt bad for not cluing in sooner because it was sort of a big deal.
So, it should come as no surprise that my sister had to be prompted to notice the whole beard thing (or lack thereof) last night. Nor is it shocking that she initially thought he was talking about a recent haircut (which, might I add, she still thought was "too poofy"), until Trevor exclaimed, "Not that kind of haircut, Amy!".
(Related: Trevor has a haircut scheduled for Saturday morning.)
To be completely honest, I'm not 100% sure I would have noticed if Trevor hadn't announced that he was going into the backyard to shave beforehand. I mean, I'd like to think I would have, but I failed to notice six Buddhist monks in brightly colored orange robes at our regular sushi joint a couple of months ago. They were apparently seated right in front of me. Or were until Trevor asked me about them after they had left, and I was all, "Monks? Where?"
Seriously, being this kind of clueless is like a completely useless superpower.
The bad news: We've lost or broken several pairs of shoes lately.
The worse news: They all still fit.
The silver lining: All lost or broken shoes were sandals and were rapidly becoming seasonably inappropriate.
But then I started thinking that maybe Banner's foot had grown. After all, it has been MONTHS since his last pair of new shoes, and it isn't like the kid has stopped growing. Plus, he had been refusing to wear his shoes lately, and one of his big toenails had kind of gotten wonky. I figured his sneakers were too snug and it was time for a new pair.
And, well, I was right, but not dramatically so.
He had been a size seven. Now he is a seven and a half...WIDE.
Out of all the things he (may) have inherited from me, why was wide feet one of them? Hopefully, he will outgrow this and have perfectly average width feet, because having wide feet really cuts down on the available (cute) selection.
Anyhoo, Banner LOVES shoes so the kid wasn't shy about picking out pairs that he would like to try on. Namely:
The more pink and bedazzled, the better. Because toddlers are like raccoons.
They are drawn to all things that glitter and shine.
In the end, we settled on these:
Boring, but perfunctory. Because, again, WIDE is not synonymous with CUTE.
And because I'm sure Trevor wouldn't be down with the pink flowers and sparkles.
Luckily, Banner is THRILLED with his new kicks and is excited to put them on in the mornings. Which is especially awesome since they are currently his ONLY pair of appropriately sized shoes in his closet. Guess a Target shoe run is in our (very near) future. What are the chances I'll be able to find anything (relatively) cheap, cute and practical in a 7.5 WIDE?
Phil and Hilary made their annual pilgrimage to Dallas for the State Fair. They actually missed the fair the last couple of years because of Anni's wedding in January 2012. So it was nice to get back to business as usual. It just doesn't feel like fair time without the Vogts.
Banner welcomed Hil and Phil on Saturday morning by collapsing to the floor and staring at them suspiciously EVERY time they walked into the room or addressed him specifically by name. It was all very weird (and funny). This kid is nothing but cautious around strangers:
And you are?
To be fair, I had asked Hilary to hold him briefly the night before. The little guy had stayed home with his favorite sitter while we had picked the Vogts up from the airport and grabbed dinner (and margaritas!) at Matt's. We got home around 11, and found Banner completely passed out on the couch next to Molly (who was watching a movie). While Trevor saw the sitter safely to her car, I transported the Ban-Man back to the nursery, checked his diaper and was about to tuck him in his crib for the night when I discovered that I couldn't find his sleep sack in the dark. Hilary was in the adjoining guest room, and I whispered for her to come hold Banner for a second while I found it. She happily complied, but Banner chose THAT moment to wake up and look around. And, of course, the first thing his sees is some strange lady holding him.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure that is stuff nightmares are made out of. Poor baby.
(And poor Hilary. She was just trying to help!)
I'm sure Banner's bizarre "collapse and stare" behavior every time he saw Hilary the following morning was a direct result of the previous night. After all, Hilary was "that strange lady" from his really, really bad dream Friday night. Who wouldn't drop and stare?!
A cold front moved through the metroplex Saturday morning. It rained a little as it passed, but the real story was the temperature. The high on Friday had been in the 90s. On Saturday, he high was 82...but that was recorded before the front arrived mid morning (around 10 AM). It was all down hill after that, which meant a blustery overcast 60 degree afternoon.
(And, yes, I realize that 60 degrees isn't all that chilly. But it was a thirty degree difference from the day before. Obviously, sweatshirts and jackets were in order.)
(Also, Hil and Phil are from Maryland. Which isn't the coldest place on earth, but - unlike Texas - Maryland has seasons. I feel completely justified calling 60 degrees "chilly" since Hilary was all bundled up in a sweatshirt and my brother's Sewanee fire department windbreaker.)
Because of the drizzle, the fairgrounds were not as jam packed as they normally are on an early weekend afternoon. Granted, it got steadily more crowded as the afternoon wore on (the Grambling/Prairie View game was that evening), but we were able to enjoy the fair without having to wait in long lines for most of our visit.
Everyone got their corny dog (bird dog for me!) upon arrival, and then the hunt was on for fried weirdness. Off the top of my head, I saw different members of the group try/eat the following:
Funnel cake (Tyler)
Fried cheese (Phil)
Fried pizza (Trev and Spence)
Fried mac and cheese (Anni and Hilary)
Cotton candy (Tyler)
Fried thanksgiving dinner (Trev)
I only had a small taste of the fried pizza (there was pepperoni), and a couple of bites of the fried mac and cheese. I was looking forward to tasting the fried Thanksgiving dinner, but I kept getting lost every time I ran to my office to change Banner's diaper.
Note: I'd like to believe that the twice flooded on floor of my office is 100% cleaner than any public fair restroom. Trevor completely supported this theory since it also meant that all diaper changes during museum hours were my job.
(Unrelated to the weekend being discussed, but related in terms of fried fair food: I feel the need to mention that I made my former intern try the fried spaghetti and meatballs and the bacon cheese burger between two Crispy Crème donuts this year. Kaitlin runs marathons, though, so she can handle the calories. And, yes, this is the same former intern that has worked at the museum on and off for four years that has willingly consumed a variety of fried food nastiness for me every fair since 2010 - from fried gum to fried butter to fried sugar cubes. It is a game that I willingly sponsor, because there is no way I'd ever try half the stuff she so happily consumes.)
My favorite part of the fair this fall (other than being with so many of my friends, of course) was watching Banner take it all in. He was only 9 months old when he came last year, and was more or less confined to his stroller. This year, however, he old enough to try different things (even though he wasn't interested in putting anything fried in his mouth...not even a corny dog); including his first amusement park ride!
Of course, Banner met the fair with all its noises, smells and flashing lights the same way he meets strangers - with a hefty dose of caution and speculation. It is impossible to know if he was having a good time or not. I guess he is just busy taking it in one blink and stare at a time.
In fact, there were only four different times he seemed genuinely excited about anything at the fair: when he saw the spinning bears, when he was told he could ride the wee tractor at the kiddie farm, when he discovered a three year old girl dancing on stage at the wine garden (she wasn't a professional...she was just shaking her booty to the beat over the stereo speakers while her grandpa sat near by enjoying a tasty grape flavored beverage) and, finally, when Banner found two other little boys to play a nonsensical version of toddler chase with. Other than that, though, his game face was ON.
Banner, however, was SERIOUSLY committed to spending time with his uncle Spencer. Poor Spence couldn't put the little guy down without tears. At first, Spence was touched, but three hours in and his neck and back started to protest with a vengeance. Because a squirmy 31 pound toddler only gets heavier with every Cotton Bowl loop.
I guess there is nothing like seeing the fair from atop your father's beardless doppelganger.
And, well, because it is like some sort of weird compulsion, we had to take a few minutes out of our day to visit Boris. Because, OF COURSE.
Banner thought Boris was a MOO. Spencer tried to explain that Boris was actually an OINK. Banner wasn't convinced.
Some little boy even tried offering Banner a visual aid of a more typical looking pink piggie, but Ban wasn't buying it. Apparently, at 21 months, Banner is a MOO expert. And, to him, Boris is all MOO.
The rest of our afternoon was spent at the wine garden, the car show and taking ridiculous selfies on the Court of Honor. Which sounds almost fun until I remember that Phil has at least two of the most heinous pictures of me ever taken. I spent most of the rest of the weekend secretly hoping he'd drop his camera and erase all his photos. Because, UH-OH, PHIL!
And, well, I don't have anything to show you from that whole experience, so here are two of my favorite pictures from the day (a.k.a. no paternity test needed):
I love this SO much, Hils.
They were actually looking at the same ride on the Midway that made him cry last year.
(Banner. Not Trevor.)
Anyway, the rest of the weekend was low key but fun filled. We played Apples to Apples (Vietnam, 1968!), ate copious amounts of cheese and dressed our favorite Raven's fans in Cowboys t-shirts (much to Anni and Tyler's chagrin since they are "apparently" Bronco fans. And I say "apparently" because Anni thought Eli Manning played for the Broncos and assumed the secondary was made up of the team's second best players).
To be fair, Ban spent all of Saturday in purple.
And, well, I'd go into things like putting Anni in timeout (because Banner saw her hit), being forced to reenact the Dolphin Show (thanks again for missing the dramatic finale, Big Philly) and kicking the snot out of the guys while playing darts (seriously), but I feel like nothing I type here can really do the weekend justice. Because somewhere between Trevor trying to find a "cool song for Phil" on the radio, Anni "I'm really good with kids"accidentally pushing Banner down, and being forced into purchasing jewelry by overly pushy Hilary-the-salesman, I realized how much fun I always have with these crazy people each and every time we get together.
I guess bonds forged over nearly two decades of broom closet fights, purse wine, fried cheese, blow drying the bed, "Do you think he likes me?" and Tylenol PM only result tight and lasting friendships that are always full of laughter.
