Peace

I've been praying for peace lately.  I've been praying for the strength to make the sads go away, for the power to stand up and take a step away from the blues that have been following me around.

Now to be honest, I haven't had a lot of faith in my prayer.  I haven't been to church in a while, and a lot of my logic and intellect interferes with the blind acceptance that faith requires.  However, it was worth a shot and I'm still humble enough to know that I can't do most things without help.  So I prayed.

And last night, I put Sofia to bed.  Her room was dark, but not so dark that I couldn't make out the contours of her face.  She was nursing (because we're still doing that to go to bed) and her face was positively angelic.  I know moms say that about their kids but this time was different.  I truly felt the weight of her perfect body in my arms, I heard nothing else but the steady rhythm of her breathing, and in that moment it came.  Peace.

I was so relieved.  I actually felt the weight lifting, the cloud going away and all I could do was whisper "Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you."  I stepped out of her room and I was strong again.

This was the final piece.  Because I must say THANK YOU to you.  You, who commented with your well wishes.  You, who emailed me to make sure I was good.  You, who called me to hear my voice.  You, who reminded me that going down the rabbit hole isn't necessary, that I have the strength to stay upright.  You, who reminded me that I'm not alone, that it's not all bad and I'm getting all choked up with gratitude that you have all blessed me with your friendship.

NOW WILL YOU ALL PLEASE MOVE TO READING PENNSYLVANIA SO WE CAN LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER PLEASE?!?!?

Because the problems haven't gone away, and the biggest issue is that I'm isolated and lonely. There's a reason they use solitary confinement as punishment in prisons.  We're not meant to go through this life without contact and interaction, and I don't have that here.  

This little town is, shall we say, different.  I read a statistic that something like 85% of the people born here, die here.  Meaning, they don't take too kindly to strangers 'round these parts.  I was at the dentist the other day and I mentioned that to the hygienist.  She was like, Yeah, people are friendly but it's going to take a while for them to really let you in.  I'm sorry about that, like she was personally responsible for the cliquish-ness of the whole town.  It was kind of funny.

But it's true, and it's worse for moms.  They all have their own friend groups, they've all been friends since grade school, they talk about nothing but inside shit and I couldn't join the conversation if I tried.  I'm a member of a couple of moms groups in the area and I'm just about done going to the playdates because I'm totally the smelly kid, off to the side, trying and failing to make friends.  Do you know how hard it is to make friends when you're grown and old and set in your ways?

I'm trying - I hosted a playdate at my house and eight moms RSVP'd.  At the last minute, five of them cancelled, like almost all at once and while I'm a pretty secure person, that stung.  I won't lie, for a minute I wondered if they did that on purpose.

This lack of friends and feeling of isolation put a lot of pressure on my marriage.  I would practically jump Drew when he got home, wanting him to be everything I wasn't getting during the day and when I didn't get that from him, we'd fight about it.  It's not right or fair to him and we're still not good at fighting fair, so our fights got way bigger than they ever needed to be.  You know how that goes.  You start off talking about one thing, then suddenly you're yelling that you don't care about me, you never did, why are we even married and then everyone's just sad. 

BUT.  I'm not sad anymore.  I have peace.  I have strength and I'm going to turn this around if it kills me.

No more burnout.  There is no job anywhere that doesn't give you a break.  If you do have one of those jobs, you don't have it for long before you have a heart attack or you go postal.  Everyone needs a break from their job sometime, and so do I.  I've found a yoga instructor that resonates with me and the gym has childcare so I'm going once a week, come hell or high water.

I've talked with her about teaching as well and if I can get back to teaching, I know that'll help so much.  Having something like that just for me is just what I need.

No more internalization.  It's not fair to my one friend here to dump all my problems at her feet, so I'm going to a counselor.  They're the only people that are cool with you dumping on them all the time.

No more isolation.  I have one other friend in New Jersey and I'm going to see her.  No more excuses.  I need some adult female gabfest time, and I need to quit expecting my husband to be my girlfriend.  Drew's not a talker - he never has been and probably never will be.  He tries, and I'm grateful for that, but there's just no match for two women and a bottle of wine.  I need this, and I'm going to drive to New Jersey and have just that.

I lived in Dallas for 17 years and I've been here for six months.  It's going take some time to make friends, feel comfortable and I'm going to continue to pray for peace with that.

SO!  That's the plan, and for reading all that, how about some pictures!  Drew is out of town for this week, which means that once Sofia is in bed, that time is all mine, and let me tell you, that's just what I need right about now.

Because I've been busy!

I went to Ikea and got my white Expedit.

It took Drew and Sofia no time to put it together and I'm so happy with it!

Remember this?

Then it looked like this.

But having all my sewing stuff right at the foot of the stairs felt cluttery, so I moved it.

So we moved the table and chairs and that felt better.

Drew and I sat downstairs talking paint and he suggested I use the leftover gallon of 

Krypton for the walls.

So that's what I did.

It's starting to look like a real room!

Drew wanted this to be an accent wall.

So that's what happened.

I know, I'm scared too.  But I think I can make it work.

Then it was time for the beige trim.

I will never understand that.

White trim, builders!  All white, all the time!

That's better.

Finally, around one this morning, I primed one door.

One coat of primer each, at two this morning.

Already, this corner is so much brighter.

And that's how far I've gotten!  I have this whole week to get 'er done and I'm confident that I can make it happen.  I have plans y'all. Big plans.  Just you wait.  

It's ALL going to be better.

Again you guys, thank you so much.  For everything.  You're the best.

Taking a break

Hey y'all.  It's me.  I don't usually go this long without blogging unless I have a reason, although I haven't really kept track.  Have I been gone for longer before?  Without a reason?  Who knows, I don't.  

Anyway, I've tried to come up with something funny and entertaining to write about, but my brain just won't cooperate because I've been fighting the sads lately and nothing funny or entertaining will come out, no matter how hard I try.

I can't write it out here because the reasons for the sads involve people that read this blog and I'm not that far down the rabbit hole that I don't care about them.  When I start calling people out, then you know it's really bad.  It's not really bad.  Not yet.  I'm trying with every ounce of me to keep it from getting really bad and that drains all my funny and entertaining.

So rather than be fake and pretend that things are good when they're not, I'm just going to take a break from blogging.  I'm still writing, because writing is my therapy, I'm just not putting it all out there.  When you put things out there, "get things off your chest", relationships tend to get destroyed in the process.  I know that because I've done it before, and I'm not quite there yet.

But I will say this:  There are other people who read this blog.  Maybe there are other people out there who fight the sads sometimes.  I say this to you:  Get help.  Find someone, anyone and dump that shit out.  Google 'crisis help' or anything with the word 'hotline' in it and make that call.  Keeping things in, putting on a happy face when all you want to do is cry, is very very very VERY unhealthy.  Don't fucking do it.  Pretending to be someone you're not is the first step down the rabbit hole and it's hard as fuck to climb back out.  So don't even take that first step.

I'm getting help.  If you're fighting the sads, you get help too, ok?  The sads won't take us down, we're not going to let it.  Ok?  Let's shake on it.

I'll be back soon, hopefully with something really funny and entertaining.

A Valentine's day love story (sort of)

I put this on my personal Facebook page last week and I thought I'd share it here too, because it's just too funny to keep to my 80 friends on Facebook.

Happy Valentine's Day!

..........................................

Having kids means you can make them participate in afternoon photoshoots.

Whether they like it or not.

Preparing the set - thanks Pinterest!

The diva has not been called to the set, so she 

busies herself with her straws.

The prince practices his moves.

The shoot begins.  She's a star; she can't give it to you on the first shot.

You must work for it.

She's feeling generous today and will tolerate the props.

With a little coaxing from the producers off-camera,

she warms up.

Then the magic happens.

Giving the classic head-tilt, bite-the-bottom-lip pose.

"You're gorgeous darling!"

"Oh go on.  No seriously, go on."

"I think we got the shot! Let's bring in the prince!"

"Um, excuse me.  There's someone in my shot."

"Can we just be professional about this? You know, lots of girls 

would give anything to shoot with me.

I'm really not sure why you're so upset."

"I shoot alone!  Where is my manager!"

"Look doll, you have GOT to relax.  You're starting to wig me out."

"I told you!  I can't handle the high maintenance types!"

"I can't work with him!"

"I can't work with her!"

*All babies involved in this re-enactment were given prompt cuddles and kisses by their respective managers and were calm within a minute of the final shot.  They were not pinched or poked to cry on cue.  The diva and the prince were just not in the mood to shoot together, but all was reconciled when they saw each other a few days later.  They even shared some crackers, so it's safe to say the fences have been mended.

The weaning

I hope you read that title in an ominous, horror-movie voice, because that's what weaning is.  It's your very own horror movie, playing over and over again in your very own home.

Weaning sucks.  It sucks for the kid, it sucks for the parents and if you don't have to do it, I wouldn't recommend it.  However, for me and my family it is a necessary evil.  And when I say evil, boy do I mean it.

When we last left off, I was at my wit's end because Sofia was still waking up several times in the middle of the night to nurse.  My brain was starting to fry; I was a walking zombie and something had to give.  I turned to you, my beloved readers and I found the strength to forge ahead and do this night-weaning thing once and for all.  We'd had a few half-hearted attempts that ended in screaming (her) and frustration (me) and it always ended the same - her nursing and me wondering if there was ever going to be a solution.

As you fine readers pointed out, it was time to bring out the big guns:  DADDY.  It was ineffective and cruel in my opinion to have me go in there, since I am the bearer of the breasts and stand in front of her, denying her the very thing she wants.  She wasn't buying it and it wasn't working.  So I begged Drew to go in there, pleasepleasepleaseIcan'tdothisanymore.  In the past, he had never gone in, because he wasn't the bearer of the breasts and we sort of unspoken-ly agreed that since he worked outside the home, he should be the one who got at least some sleep.  It wasn't ideal, but if someone had to be unwashed with crazy hair, it's probably better for it to be the one who doesn't have to stand in front of people and give meetings and meet clients and such.

But the status quo wasn't working and he had to step in.  That was Thursday night.  While I stayed in the basement painting the playroom (which I'm dying to show you, btw), he was upstairs with our screaming toddler who wanted nothing to do with him and made it very known.  "Mommy come hold me!!"  

It's your own personal horror show, I'm tellling you.

But somehow we all made it through Thursday night.  Then came Friday, and somehow it got worse.  She woke up every two hours and at one point, Drew came downstairs all crazy-eyed and frustrated and was like "Why won't she sleep?!?!?!?"

He looked like this.  I was scared.

But he went back and eventually we all got to sleep.  Saturday she woke up with a runny nose and a tooth starting to poke out, because of course she's going to teethe when we're trying to wean.  She doesn't have enough stress in her little life.  We debated scrapping the night weaning for now, but flip-flopping is even worse when you're trying to establish a new routine, so we stuck it out.  I gave her some baby Tylenol and she napped for two and a half hours on Saturday, poor thing.  Drew did too, poor thing.

And then, a miracle happened.  Saturday night, she woke up once because her diaper was soaked.  Drew went in to change her and was able to get her back down in a matter of minutes!

AND THEN!!  Sunday night, we put her in a disposable and she slept THE WHOLE NIGHT!! 8pm to 6:30am!!  We ALL got a full nights sleep!  And when I tell you?  I woke up Monday morning like a completely different person!

For nearly two years I've gotten interrupted, non-restful, fitful sleep.  To get a full night's sleep?  To be able to lay down and not have to get up until it's morning?  To get to fall into that deep deep sleep?  It's positively magical. 

So THIS is what Drew has gotten to do all this time....

Monday morning Drew brought her to me and I wasn't groggy.  My head didn't feel stuffed with cotton.  I opened my eyes and I could see clearly; that doesn't usually happen until I've been up at least an hour.

We went to the kitchen and I fixed breakfast and we had time to eat it!  Usually, I'm so groggy and non-functioning that I inevitably end up late for wherever I have to be and I'm throwing a waffle at her as we hustle out the door.  Not this time!  THIS time, we sat at the table, having our breakfast on plates.  We chatted!  I asked her what she'd like to wear to school, I asked her if she liked eating like a regular person.  She just kind of babbled back to me, but I'm taking that as a yes.

We got dressed in a leisurely fashion.  There was none of the begging and pleading because we're already late.  We had plenty of time and I was rested.  It was beautiful!  When we left for school, I didn't have to run back into the house three times because I forgot various things.  I felt capable, I felt like a mom, not some imposter who hasn't the first clue about what to do.  It was absolutely glorious.

The last two nights, she's woken up but that's due to the whole not being able to breathe thing.  That'll interfere with your sleep, weaned or not.  

However, I'm claiming it.  We've turned a corner and I believe we're on our way to successfully night-weaning my toddler and it's a beautiful thing.  Now, I happily nurse during the day because I get my break at night and even that seems to be diminishing.  She tried her old nursing-at-the-dinner-table trick last night and I said "Sofia, we nurse to go night-night.  Are you ready for bed?"  With that, she scrambled right off my lap because she didn't want to have to go to sleep yet.  We're making progress, people!

We can't quite do the celebration dance yet, but I'm doing a little hip-wiggle in honor of a good night's sleep.

Ah, sleep.  It's been a long time, old friend.

Wean-er

When it comes to parenting, I guess I'm what you could call a standard-issue hippie.  I cloth diaper, I had a drug-free childbirth on purpose, we don't eat processed food, we recycle (which really, everyone should do, hippie or not), I use cloth bags at the store, I try to use natural remedies whenever possible, and whatever else you can think of when you think hippie.

The only thing I'm very un-hippie about is vaccinations.  Sofia has had all her vaccinations and she will have everything that is recommended by her doctors.  My mom is a public health nurse and I talk with her about these things, but in the end, my kid gets her vaccinations.  I know there are TONS of people out there who are militantly anti-vaccination, but for me, I'm going to go ahead and NOT take my medical advice from a Playboy bunny who did dating shows on MTV.  

No offense to any Playboy bunny who went on to become a doctor.  I'm not talking about you, Dr. Miss January.

But that's not what I'm talking about.  No, I'm talking about the other major hippie mainstay:  Breastfeeding.

Thank God in Heaven that I've able to breastfeed.  I'm fully aware that not every woman is able to, and I count my blessings all the time.  From day one, I was committed to it and I was determined to make it work.  The health benefits, the bonding, the immunity - all of those things were major reasons for me, but real talk, the A-Number 1 reason why I stayed with it was the FOOD.  My hatred of cooking is legendary and to have an out like that?  Straight up, that's the main reason why Sofia was almost 8 months old before she had her first solid food on a regular basis.  To this day, that's why we haven't stopped; I can get a couple extra hours in the morning if I bring her to bed with me to nurse and I breathe easy knowing that she's still getting her nutrients from my breastmilk.  She's a picky eater and I don't worry as much when she doesn't get the exact recommended amount of fruits or veggies, because I eat super healthy and I know she's getting it through nursing.  

Now before I had kids, I knew I wanted to breastfeed but I also said I'd stop when they had teeth, bit me, or could ask for it.  Sofia has done all three and we're still going and there's no stopping in sight.  And that's kind of my issue.

After I had her, I was super committed to letting her self wean.  I saw no reason to force such a drastic behavior change on her before she was ready.

Get your flaming torches ready, hippies.

I've changed my mind.

You guys, I'm effing tired. The only time I got more than two full nights sleep in nearly two years was when we went to Kauai for ten days.  It was the best ten days of my life and those blissful nights of sleep are nothing more than a distant memory.  And I'm effing tired.  

So I want to night wean.  I'm fine with nursing during the day but good LORD, the kid goes to bed at 8, wakes up at 11, doesn't go back to sleep until close to one, wakes up again at four, which is when she comes into bed with us because I'm too effing tired.  Because she's in bed with us, she's up at 5:15 because that's when Drew gets up, and if the angels are smiling on me, she'll go back to sleep when he leaves at 6:30 until nine or so.  Otherwise, between 6:30 and 7, she's up for the day.  Every night.

There has only been one time that someone else has put her to bed without incident.  When she was about nine or ten months old we went to a birthday party and the babysitter was able to put her to bed by herself.  I thought she had the magic touch, but the next time she sat for us, Sofia cried for two hours before going to sleep.  And that wasn't crying it out, because I don't do that.  The babysitter literally carried her around for two hours while she screamed.  

I'm super familiar with that move because that's what happened last night.  The night nursing is wearing on me and last night was one of those nights.  Who knows why she wouldn't sleep.  Maybe she was teething, maybe she was going through a growth spurt.  Maybe she wanted to watch tv.  All I know is she just wasn't going to sleep and nursing was killing me.  I was feeling really touched out and my nipples felt like hamburger meat (tmi, sorry); she just couldn't be satisfied.  I was so tired I was getting frustrated and losing my patience.  That's when I knew Drew had to step in.  

Sofia never really took a bottle and it never bothered me because I was all, breast is best blah blah blah but I didn't think it through.  'Breast is best' means that the person with the breasts will put the baby to bed until said baby is done with said breasts.  No nights off EVER, unless you're cool with hysterical screaming.  EVER.  Therefore, Drew has only put her to bed a small handful of times and Sofia is not a fan because it's not what she's used to.

But DAMN.  I'm effing tired.  I need an effing break!  And last night was one of those nights.  I just couldn't take it anymore and I put her in her crib, walked out and got into our bed.  "I can't do it.  I can't.  She's going to have to cry because I can't.  If you want to go in there you can, but I for real can't."

I woke him up out of a dead sleep, and naturally he wasn't pleasant about it.  He may have said something about me not needing to have an attitude about it, but I don't remember because smoke and fire and sleep deprivation and frustration and profanities spilled out of my mouth and my head started spinning.

Like this.  

I was going to put up the Exorcist  picture

but it scared me too much.

My husband is a frickin saint for putting up with my crazy.

Bless his heart, he tried for over an hour to get her back to bed, all while she was screaming her face off, going Mommymommymommymommy.  She was PISSED and at one point Drew brought her in to bed with me and she was clawing at my shirt, trying to get at my boobs.  Normally, I would have just given in and let her nurse, but my hand to heaven you guys, I couldn't.  I just couldn't nurse her in that moment and trust me, the guilt would have eaten me alive if the sleep deprivation hadn't already shut my body down.  I had to sleep.

He finally got her to bed after an hour or so, we nursed this morning and she doesn't appear to be any worse for wear.  

I've looked into gentle night weaning but I'm here to tell you:  there's NOTHING gentle about weaning of any kind.  I'm taking away something that my kid wants and she's at the age where she will let everyone within earshot know just how PISSED she is about that.  

I've tried explaining to her that nursing has to go night-night too and she laughs in my face and undoes my bra.  I've tried telling her that she's a big girl, that she doesn't need nursing in the middle of the night and she just screams louder.  One time, she was trying to lift my shirt and get at my boobs and I was trying to block her.  She looked me dead in my face and said "Stop that."  I've tried explaining to her that I need to sleep so I can be a better mommy to her and she pretty much says Sounds like a personal problem.  I've tried sippie cups with water, giving her a lovey, giving cuddles, and none of it works.  She gets up in the middle of the night and wants to nurse until she falls back to sleep and if I even THINK about trying to put her back in her crib before she is completely and totally asleep, well, Sucks for you Mom!  I'm going to scream for two hours now!  Hope you're not tired!

I seriously don't know what to do.  It's messing with my mental health.  I need to night wean and it's for me, not her.  But the screaming - holy balls, the screaming.  I don't know if I can handle more nights of that, but I know I can't handle more night waking and taking an hour or more to get back to sleep in the middle of the night.

I've read stuff that says suck it up, the time will go by and you'll be sad when it's over.  I totally get that and I hate that my frustration is preventing me from enjoying our nursing relationship.  But I'm So Effing TIRED.  

Right about now I'm jealous of all the moms who had kids who self-weaned or who were actually able to gently wean.  Because the way it's looking, I'm going to be nursing Sofia in the car right before I drop her off for kindergarten.

As I sit here typing this, with her happily nursing.

I need a nap.

The basement playroom: Let's get it started

Once again, it's a good thing you can't see me because I am so geeked up right now that I'm cabbage patch-ing, humpty dancing, Roger Rabbit-ing all OVER the place.

I'm going decorating y'all!!  Oh yeah, that was TWO exclamation marks.

Come with me to my basement, won't you?

I took these pictures about five minutes ago.  I touched nothing.

This is the 'adult' side' because that's where you'll find the liquor cabinet.

This is the playroom side.  This is the side that's about to get CRUNK y'all.

I don't even talk like that in real life, but I'm going with it because I'm so happy right now.

This bookcase is currently holding tools and paint.  Even though Sofia doesn't go anywhere near it, it's still not safe to have it in the same area as the playroom.

Next to it is my sewing area with my mountain of unfinished unstarted projects.

Fireplace and heater closet.

This is only half of the basement.  The other half holds all the junk that's going to get sold in a massive garage sale in the spring, as well as the workshop area with all the tools I'm no longer allowed to touch.

I've been on Drew for the longest that we need to have a proper playroom for Sofia because it's so cold for so long that going outside is not an option.  He was dragging his feet because eventually we want to refinish the whole basement and he didn't want to have to pay for things twice.  I kept saying paint is not that big a deal! She needs a playroom now!  It won't be that expensive I swear!  And on and on, back and forth.

But now!  It's going to happen people!  So let's break it down:

Flooring.  Since we are going to refinish the basement sometime in our lives with proper flooring, whatever we did right now has to be temporary.  Temporary=area rugs.  We scored two awesome rugs for the playroom side at Target for $30 each and they've held up perfectly.  I plan to attach some fabric to the rust-colored edges, since they don't match, but that's down the line.  The rug on the adult side of the room is the old flowered one from her nursery from way long ago.  It works and if there's enough money left in the budget, I'll replace it but it's good for now.

Storage.  I scored that Expedit on Craigslist for only $30, but once I had it down here I realized I really wanted everything to be white.  But all is not lost because that one will move to the workshop and hold all the tools from the bookcase, and I will get the same one in white.  

Lighting.  We have nasty fluorescent lights in the ceiling and there's nothing we're going to do about them right now, but I do want a cool floor lamp for the far corner, because the lamp we have now isn't bright enough.  

Except Money Man Drew was like, no more spending.  You could have heard my heart breaking a mile away, but I didn't give up.  I had to find a way to get some money - my baby must have her playroom.  So TODAY, on a whim I went to one of those 'sell your gold' places in the mall.  I took some of my old-school gangsta chains and bracelets that I haven't worn and probably will never wear just to see what they'd give me for them.  You remember, back in the 80s-early 90s when it was cool to wear tons of gold?  Yeah.  Me too.  It's ok - we can hang our heads in shame together.

Well, I've since matured and most certainly no longer wear my chains and bracelets and they just sat there for the longest time.  Even when I made my jewelry wall and they were out in the open, I still had no desire to reach for my Eazy-E wanna-be necklaces.

I was hoping for $60 at most, because I had $20 in my pocket and the white Expedit is $70 plus tax.

You guys!!  They gave me nearly $300 for my gangsta gold!!

A couple of chains and bracelets that I haven't worn in over five years and most certainly will not miss, and my baby's gonna get a playroom!!

$300 is plenty to do what I want to make this playroom happen for her!  So here's the plan; you guys, I can't even deal right now I'm so excited.

I'm getting one of these bad boys.

source

One of these too.

source

There will be an awning over her kitchen.

image courtesy

There will be shelves and a bar underneath to hang dress-up clothes.

I'm thinking a magician cloak, a doctor coat, a superhero cape, 

and yeah, probably some fairy dresses too.

image courtesy

The bookcase will get painted white and I'm in love with

those rainbow painted backs so that's probably going to happen.

source

There will be a gallery wall.

image courtesy

The sofa will get slipcovered, I'm going to sew bright and happy pillows and it's going to be the happiest playroom EVER!  You guys!  The biggest transformation will be paint, and everyone knows that paint is the cheapest thing you can do!  I seriously can't even sit still because I want to get started right the heck now!  Do you see all these exclamation marks!  My baby's gonna have a playroom!

Ok seriously, Sofia's napping and I'm about to take all those tools to the workshop and this weekend, but maybe even tomorrow, we're going shopping!

Stay tuned!

The good parts about Puerto Rico

The plague has officially left our house, thank God.  Of course, not before we all got taken down.  Poor Sofia was sick on Tuesday and Wednesday, we both were sick on Thursday and Drew got it on Friday and part of Saturday.  That stomach bug is no joke and from what I understand, there's nothing you can do about it but endure its wrath and hope you make it out alive.  Thankfully, by Sunday we were all back to normal, minus a few pounds.  Drew and I were okay with a bit o' weight loss, but it broke my heart to pick up Sofia and feel that she was definitely lighter.  Ever since then, I've been on a mission to fatten her back up.

Sick and pitiful.  We were posted up on the sofa all day 

Thursday and watched more Yo Gabba Gabba than I would care to admit.

Oh!  I wanted to pass along a recipe for homemade Pedialyte in case your family gets struck by the plague and you're like me and have nothing in the house.  Believe me, it is no fun to have to go to the grocery store with a pukey kid.  But since we have nothing but water and milk in our house, I didn't have a choice.  Poor kid puked three times while we were out.

Anyway, homemade Pedialyte:  1 quart of water, 2 tbsp sugar, 1/2 teaspoon salt.  Warm the water so the salt and sugar will melt and give it in tiny sips to your pukey baby.  Or your pukey self, if necessary.  Hopefully you won't need it, but if you do, there ya go.  It's from here.

But now that everyone is back to normal, it's time to get back to writing.  I don't know about other bloggers, but I can't write out of order.  I have a bunch of topics I want to write about but if I feel like something hasn't been addressed, I can't move on.  In this case, it's Puerto Rico.

The only post I wrote about our trip had to do with the difficulty.  And while good LORD it was difficult, it wasn't all bad.  It's never all bad when you get to escape the snow and hang out on the beach in January.  So first off, the flight.

Sofia is a champion traveler - she always has been.  We've taken her on vacation to Rio, Kauai and now Puerto Rico.  She's also flown several times from Dallas to Kansas City and Philadelphia and I've not ever had one incident with her.  This is nearly all due to the fact that we're still nursing (and I want to blog about that shit too, but it'll have to be later), and I can pop a boob in her mouth at the first sign of fussiness.  It works every single time and I'm pretty sure once we wean and we have to travel I will eat my words.  But for now, we're still good.

The last time we flew, I was seriously prepared and it went well.  This time I was way more lax because my child is an addict and it's NOT the boob.

My little junkie

We loaded the iPad with all the episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba and we heard not a peep out of her for nearly the whole flight.  I'm not proud of this - I wish with everything that I had never shown her even one episode, because there is something about that show that draws them the very first time and the kid is HOOKED.  She knows the songs, the characters and while I wish she were as addicted to books, I can't be too upset.  Once, she was trying to put her shoes on and she couldn't get it and was getting frustrated.  With no prompting, she started singing, "Keep try-ing, keep try-ing, don't give up, don't give up" which is a Gabba song.  So I guess there are worse things, and if it keeps my kid quiet on a plane without me having to nurse her, I'll take it.

A must if you have kids.

I got these window clings for our last flight and they were an even bigger hit this time.  Before, the gummy texture confused Sofia and she tried to eat them, but this time she knew they were stickers and had a ball sticking and re-sticking them to the window.  I got these at Target, but I'm sure you can find them at the dollar store or someplace like that.

We made it to Miami without incident!

We got up at 4:30 that morning and arrived in San Juan at 8 at night.

She was such a trooper!

Since this was Drew's work trip, we had to stay in two different hotels.  We'd arrived a couple of days before the conference, so that hotel stay was on us.  We used points and scored a great hotel room with an amazing view.

It doesn't suck.

Unfortunately, we had to leave our awesome hotel and go to the company hotel, which was nowhere near as nice.  I try not to complain about free stuff, but still.  There was mold on the ceiling and rust in the bathroom.  I didn't like it, but that's all I'm going to say because I already wrote my complain-y post.

We got to the beach as soon as we could.

There's a lot that's right with this picture:  the beach in January, chubby baby legs,

sand castles, a sexy husband doing his best Marlboro Man impression. 

 It's all winning - are people still saying that?

How cool is my diva baby with her movie star glasses on her head?

*Sigh*, she's not even a baby anymore!

Because oh yes, the outfits.  I was so excited to put Sofia in summer clothes and I pretty much died when I found a fedora at Old Navy for less than 50 cents.

She rocked that fedora like a boss.

That's the cool thing about having a kid that's a little older:  She kept that hat on

for most of the day and I squealed inside every time someone saw her and said

how cute she was.  And check the jellies!

The jellies deserve their own post, I love them that much.  

On Christmas Eve, I took Sofia to see Santa and it was epic.  Our pathetic mall had a billion people in it, Sofia hated Santa and screamed her face off for her picture.  When it was over, we BOTH needed a treat.  We went to the Gap, I spied the jellies, squealed because they were perfect and ran to pay for them.  Like the good eco-conscious person I am, I refused a bag, saying I'd just put them in the stroller.

But there were a billion people in the mall, Sofia was melting down and in my haste, I must have left the store without them.  I don't want to think that someone took them from me in my distracted state.  I didn't realize until I got aaaalllll the way back to the car, but don't you know I went aaaaalllll the way back to the store because I loved those jellies so much, but of course they were gone.  I was SO PISSED and sad.  The people at the store couldn't do anything for me so I actually hand-wrote a letter to Gap customer service begging them to do something and do you know they gave me a refund?  Isn't that awesome!  By then, I'd already gotten another pair but they ended up being too big.  I didn't realize until Sofia's feet kept flopping out of her shoes, so I bought another pair in Puerto Rico, this time in a smaller size.  So it's safe to say that Sofia will be rocking her jellies with every outfit this summer.

But back to our trip!

There was a fountain in the square near our hotel and Sofia was in heaven.  She absolutely loved playing in the water and was literally screaming with joy.

She got drenched but was never happier.
Fountain from Desiree on Vimeo.
She loved that fountain!!

Now, I wasn't super impressed with San Juan as a city.  I was looking for it to be more old-world or even tropical and I was surprised to see Ben and Jerry's, Subway and Walgreens all right on the main strip.  However, we finally got down to Old San Juan and it was much more to my liking.

Finally, here were the cobblestone streets and colorful exteriors I was craving!

It started raining just as we arrived but it was still so pretty.

We walked around the fort taking pictures and sightseeing.

I told Drew to "look manly" and he completely succeeded.

The stroller and purse only add to his manliness. 

More pretty exteriors.  I always wonder about the people who get to live in houses like these.

Are they happy when they come home when they see their pretty houses, or do they get

sensitized to it and just take their surroundings for granted?  One of these days I'm going to knock on a door and see what happens.  

House-crashing, guerilla style.  It could happen!

As it happened, my cousin and her family were in Puerto Rico for a wedding at the same time we were there.  Her son is a week older than Sofia and it was so cool to get them together.

At the fountain, of course.

"This fountain is awesome!"

Playing at the waterfall wall.

Of course, we didn't really think it through and had no dry clothes for afterwards.

Thank goodness it was 80 degrees at 8 at night.

So, see?  Puerto Rico wasn't all bad.  Anytime I don't have to cook, clean or walk a dog isn't a bad time and I really was glad we got to go.  I know that our next trip will be different because Sofia will be older and we'll be on a real vacation.  Because that will definitely be the last time I accompany Drew on a work trip.  We're going to Hilton Head in August and I know that will be better.

It was real Puerto Rico.  

Stay classy.