Trains...

 

About a month ago (August 11th), a family friend invited Banner over to see his trains.  He is a collector, and had set the tracks all over his living room, den and entrance hall for his grandkids (who had been visiting in July).

 

Banner was ENTRALLED.  We stayed more than an hour, which shocked me because Banner's attention span is usually closer to seven minutes.  He loved watching the "choo-choos" speed by, and helping to push the whistle button on the remote control.  Basically, he was in little boy heaven. 

 

 

Banner was even content to sit back and watch (instead of chasing after the trains and trying to pick them up).  Quite frankly, I was expecting more de-railings by Toddler Godzilla, but was pleasantly surprised by my (then) 19 month old's restraint.  He was a very good boy.

 

Here are some of my favorite pictures from the evening:

 

 

I have a feeling Thomas the Train and a trip to the new (location of) Museum of the American Railroad in Frisco are in our future.

It was kind of an eventful weekend...

At least by our standards.  And, remember, we already had ALL THIS on the schedule for Saturday.  It is sort of amazing we are still functioning.  ;P

It all started with Banner's first shiner on Friday afternoon.  The little guy was sprinting around his classroom at school (like he does), when he tripped, fell forward and hit his head HARD on the corner of the baby doll crib.  Ebony said she had never heard him scream so loud or so hard, and it took a long time for him to calm down afterwards.

Of course, when they called me at work, I assumed it was just another run-of-the-mill bump on the head, and joked that "at least it wasn't picture day".  That's when Ebony told me that they were monitoring Banner for signs of a concussion and maybe I should try to pick him up early because his head probably hurt.

Oops.  Yep, just call me a$$hat parent of the year.

To be on the safe side, Trevor and I called around and researched the signs of a concussion in a toddler, and even woke the little guy up before turning in Friday evening.  Thank goodness, he showed no symptoms, and was more or less his usual happy self (who just happened to be walking more carefully until he got his confidence back) by Saturday morning:

The exception to the happy baby rule was, of course, when I interrupted his dinner date with an avocado on Friday to document the goose egg above his left eyebrow.  The boy takes eating very seriously:

Give me back my avocado and no one gets hurt.

On Saturday morning, as you may remember, Trevor had a haircut.  He wanted Banner to go along to watch so - when the time came for him to get a trim - he'd be more prepared for the experience.

I'm not sure Banner had any clue what daddy was doing, and was just happy that the salon had a toy basket full of new and exciting things.

And, well, before I knew it, we decided to - GASP! - let Trevor's hair guy, Adam, give Banner a trim.  Maybe it was because Banner's mullet was an extra special mess Saturday morning.  Maybe it was Halley's comment to Trevor asking if we bought Banner a cap in Wyoming to cover up his rat tail.  Or maybe it was simply because Saturday would have been Moo's 103rd birthday.  I'm not really sure what made me change my mind, but Trevor made sure Adam got it done before I could think about it for very long.

The before:

The during:

The after:

Banner also got his first lollipop, which then directly lead to his getting his first donut hole.  Because it didn't take long to realize that toddlers and lollipops don't mix (there was red, sticky drool EVERYWHERE in a matter of seconds).  But Banner wasn't about to let that lollipop go without a fight.  So, we had to quickly figure out some sort of fair trade compromise if we wanted to avoid an epic meltdown in the hair salon. 

Hence, the donut hole.  As someone who has an irrational fear of donuts (they make my teeth hurt), it bothered me much, much more than it did Trevor (who considers donuts to be some sort of weird rite of passage).  Luckily, I didn't have to watch...mainly because I blinked and the donut had disappeared down my son's pie hole.  I don't even think he chewed.  I guess my phobias aren't genetic after all.

And now Banner officially looks like a little boy.  Albeit, little boy with a very, very round head and a bruise over his left eye.  Like Charlie Brown but different:

Who is that BIG boy?

The other big "first" of the weekend, was the big car seat flip.  Apparently, Banner had some sort of growth spurt in August, because his head wasn't an inch below the headrest in rear facing mode, but flush. 

(Oops.)

So, having exceeded the rear facing height maximum, we made the switch.  Banner is officially a big boy now:

One last shot facing backwards in daddy's car.

Ironically, the novelty of seeing where he is going has already worn off.  In fact, everything about forward facing seems to annoy Banner:  he doesn't want us looking at him, his feet dangle off the end, it is harder to take off his shoes, daddy doesn't like it when he plays with the doorknob, he can't kick the seat, etc.

Being 20 months is just SO HARD.

(Although the DEATH STARES we get from Banner glaring at us in the rearview mirror are pretty humorous.  And slightly terrifying.)

At least, I can now capture shots like this:

Sweet, sleepy baby.

Other than that, though, the weekend was pretty low key.  Rachel DID come over and we ordered Taco Joint and watched the latest interpretation of The Great Gatsby (because I know you were waiting on pins and needles...).  And then Sunday happened and was completely all-consumed by football.

I don't know why the return to football ALL THE TIME is so shocking this year.  I've been with Trevor for a third of my life.  I should be used to this by now.  Maybe it was because the Cowboys didn't make the playoffs last year, so I had more time "off"?

(I say "off" because Trevor will watch anything sport-like on TV.  He is an equal opportunity competition junkie.  Curling?  Beach volleyball?  DIII field hockey?  He's in.)

Whatever it is, all you football lovers out there will be happy to know that Uncle Adam taught Banner "the stance" last night.  Coming to a defensive line near you:


Hut, hut!

Banner is also a HUGE fan of Carrie Underwood's interpretation of the Sunday Night Football song.  Personally, I preferred Faith Hill's, but Carrie made Banner shake his little jersey-clad booty in a way I didn't think possible while wearing footie PJs.  Clearly, Carrie is a hit with the under two demographic. 

Until next time...

To be fair, we are exhausted 99.9% of the time...

While chatting about our weekend plans:

Trevor:  "Let's not commit to that.  Saturday is getting way too busy and overscheduled."

Me:  "You mean because you have a haircut at 10 AM and Rachel might be coming over for takeout and a movie?"

Trevor:  "Well, when you put it that way..."

Me:  "Which way?  Because that's Saturday as as usual with less hair."

Nothing screams football like Ryan Seacrest...

I chose the restaurant (Si Tapas) and Trevor chose desert (La Duni).  It was a perfect evening.  Good food.  Good wine.  Chocolate.  The hubster.  What more could a girl ask for?

Not this:

Trevor:  "Oh, good!  There is a lightening delay.  If we hurry, I might not miss any of the Broncos/Ravens game!"

This is the second year in a row that the NFL has opened their season on my wedding anniversary.  I'm not even sure how that is possible.  It is like Roger Goodell is screwing with me.  Maybe once every five or six years, but this has now happened twice in my four years of marriage.  Which, granted, isn't all that long.  But it is long enough for it to be the second anniversary since becoming parents (20 months and one day ago) that we have paid our favorite babysitter, who happens to have a four hour minimum, for an hour we didn't even use.  BECAUSE WE WERE HOME BY 9:30 TO WATCH THE GAME.

Uh-oh, Trevor.  Uh.  Oh.  You owe me numerous Judi Dench and Maggie Smith movies now.  And nothing 007 counts.

Happy Anniversary...

My sweet son decided that the only thing he wanted to do on mommy and daddy's wedding anniversary was sleep in, hang around the house all morning in his PJs and get extra cuddles from his mama and Woo.

Technically, he was sick yesterday and was kicked out of school late in the day with a temp of 101.7 and a case of The Throw Ups.

Luckily, his temp was only 100.4 when he went to bed last night, and he woke up with none.

Even better?  He is hungry and is keeping everything down.  I even took him to Good To Go Taco for lunch, and he ate ALL of his egg, potato and bacon burrito and THREE sippy cups full of watered down red Gatorade.

I can't even express how happy this makes me, especially because I don't do throw up well.

Really, it is almost like he missed our usual Mondays with Mommy (since this last Monday was Labor Day), and decided to make up for it mid week.

And just because Trevor is at work doesn't mean he isn't in on the action.  Banner discovered if he hit enough buttons on daddy's clock radio, it plays MUSIC.  All day we've been running in and out of the bedroom playing DJ and having a dance party.  Which sort of explains why Trevor's clock radio now thinks it is 3 AM and is all stickified with red Gatorade and toddler slime.  Someone should probably explain all this to Trevor before he goes to set his alarm tonight.

But then I remembered that our TV has music channels, so we've spent the afternoon shaking our booties in the living room.  Banner LOVES Ke$ha, Katy Perry, Phillip Phillips, Lady Gaga and P!nk.  That boy is so much like his daddy, it is unbelievable.

(See what I did there?  Ha!)

Happy 4th Anniversary, Trevor!  I love you very, very much.

Oh, and our son is the best thing we've ever done and is completely, 100% awesome, but I have a feeling you already knew that.

Also, sorry about your clock radio.

This is the dumbest post I've ever written...

Which, quite frankly, is saying something.

I received an email implying that maybe I don't run the 15-20 miles a week that I said I do.  Which is stupid, because why do I care if someone out there in Internet land believes me or not?

But it got me thinking that maybe I should pay a little more attention.  Most of the time, I do not run for distance or speed, but for time.  As in, I'm going to run for 30 minutes today.  Not because I want to run for 30 minutes, but because I only have 30 minutes to spare.  It is quite informal, actually.  I note the mileage on the treadmill, but I'm notoriously bad at math.

Case in point:  a couple of weeks ago, I ran 2.5 miles before hopping off to grab a drink of water.  I decided, given my distance at that point, I'd run a total of 5 miles before calling it a day.  So, I ran another 3.5 miles.

WHICH...counting is precisely while I don't run for mileage.  It is sort of amazing I got through elementary school.  But to be fair, I have other talents.  I can't name them at the moment, but I'm sure they are there.

(Thanks for going along with me on that.)

Anyway, back to the topic at hand:  mileage.  I decided to pick a week and prove to myself that I'm actually running the 15-20 miles a week that I said was.  Since all of this is arbitrary anyway, I decided to start counting on Saturday.  It made me nervous, too, because it was a holiday weekend, and I had even less time to spend at the gym than usual.  I was sure I was setting myself up for failure, because my longer runs are normally on the weekends.  But on Saturday, I had all of 50 minutes if I was going to get home and showered before my cousin and her kids came over to play in our backyard.

But, as always, I digress:

Saturday:  5 miles
Sunday:  5 miles
Monday:  5 miles
Tuesday:  OFF
Wednesday:  6.5 miles

Today is Thursday.  I'm not planning on going to the gym again until Saturday unless a miracle happens and I suddenly have time.

And before anyone says anything, those are my typical days to work out in a given week.  Trevor and I alternate going to the gym on Saturday and Sunday during Banner's nap time.  I'm off on Mondays, and usually can find someone to watch Banner for 30 minutes to an hour.  And Wednesdays are Trevor's day to pick up Banner from daycare.  Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

Sure, there are days when Mondays are impossible or I take a nap on a Sunday instead of going to the gym.  Those are the weeks I'm probably closer to 15 miles, but that is why I gave a 15-20 mile range.

And, no.  Nothing about any of this is spectacular in any way, shape or form.  My pace is 6.5 mph, on average.  I run on a treadmill because my veins suck and it is 100+ degrees outside.  I'm a mother.  I work full time.  I generally only have 30-60 minutes to spare at the gym when I go.  And some weeks I hardly make it to the gym at all.  There was a time when I ran faster, longer and more often, but this is what I can do now.  I like to think it helps me keep up with my very fast toddler, but it isn't like I have the thighs for the spandex I bought to run in at the beginning of the summer.

And, honestly, I'm just happy the mileage added up just like I thought it would.  But I double checked on my iPhone's calculator just in case.  God bless technology that saves me from the horrors of simple addition.  Because where would I be without it?  Oh, yeah...in an alternate universe where 2.5 + 3.5 = 5.

O.M.G.

Because he came right home and told me you agreed with him, that's why...

Dear Halley,

Repeat after me:  Banner does NOT need a haircut.

Please tell Trevor that tomorrow morning when you get to work.

Thanks,
Me

P.S.  Baby mullets are cool.  Especially baby mullets with little, blonde ringlets that my mother-in-law insists won't grow back EVER once I cut them off.  Also, when the times comes, I want a "first haircut certificate" to go along with the first clippings.  Trevor says this is a waste of money.  It is like he hates me.

Happy Labor Day...

My little flag waving bannerman