Also, I don't know what type of aircraft takes off each night around 8:37 local time, but it might as well be the Space Shuttle (OK, OK, I know for the few of you who have witnessed a shuttle take off you're telling me there is absolutely no comparison, but for the record, it does make everything shake and rumble).
I've been trying to become more "one" with the airplanes. During the day it's not terrible, and actually it's pretty fascinating to be outside to watch them land. It's just the departures early in the morning and late at night.
Someday, maybe, we won't live dead in the middle of the city, and we'll have a yard, and it will be quiet. Maybe.
We've had a pretty wild and crazy week, by our standards. On Wednesday night some friends from Minneapolis flew in. It's MEA in Minnesota right now, so their oldest had Thursday and Friday off from school. They didn't fly in specifically to see us (I guess there's something here called Sea World? And something about a Zoo?) but we were happy and excited to meet them for dinner.
She and I were pregnant at the same time, and her daughter was born two months before Bug. This was the first time the girls really hung out, if you don't count all the time they spent together while chillin' in our bellies.
They thoroughly enjoyed themselves.
Their french fries were exactly the same, yet somehow they were convinced at times they were different.
I believe this was right before Bug completely ate it, face-first, into the sidewalk.
Such a genuinely happy face.
And then there's this one. What is this face?? Up to all sorts of no-good.
The sunset that night was amazing, as was being outside during sunset time.
Walking together to get frozen yogurt.
Still rarin' to go, despite everyone else being exhausted.
P.S. Could you ever guess the paler one is NOT the one who lives in MN?
P.S. Could you ever guess the paler one is NOT the one who lives in MN?
Thursday it was back to Strides. There was a new teacher co-teaching with our regular instructor. She was terrible. And I'm not even trying to pick a fight here. She couldn't count evenly and it was obvious how nervous she was. Afterward, my friend GT and I were talking to her, and she admitted to us how she had been nervous for days leading up to this class. As someone who has little qualms speaking in front of people, I have a hard time coming up with empathy for those who do, especially when they purposefully place themselves in professional situations where it's required of them. It's one thing to volunteer to update your larger team at work on your project because you know presenting is an opportunity of yours; it's something completely different to select a profession like leading group fitness and not be comfortable in front of people.
GT and I were discussing it at length later, and we were a little disappointed in the Strides organization for letting someone like her pursue something like this. Not to come across as terrible people, but you do need the whole package if you're going to be successful, and if they're going to continue to be successful, they need to be selective with their instructors. We do not pay the money we do each month to have mediocre teachers who lack confidence and the ability to count with even the slightest amount of rhythm.
I found a federal program for active-duty spouses that offers money toward certifications in "portable careers," which includes group fitness. You can get up to $2K a year, with a maximum program reward of $4K. Now all I have to do is select which certification I want (ACE? AFAA? There are more than you would think.) and just go for it. It's nice to think that the up front cost doesn't have to be as much of a roadblock in continuing to pursue this.
After class GT and I took our babes to the Zoo, where Bug requested to see the giraffes. I haven't been to the Zoo since school started again, and it was PACKED. She was mildly cooperative on the way to the giraffes, baffled why the Mama Giraffe couldn't hold her (???) and then completely lost her shit on the way home.
Giraffin'
Friday afternoon we were scheduled to go to a pumpkin patch with a group of people from class. I think "pumpkin patch" is being generous, because this, umm, "attraction" was located in a parking lot at Mission Valley Mall. The group rate wasn't terrible... for $8 we got a bottle of water (normally $5!?), five ride tickets, and our choice of any pumpkin with a $4 price tag.
A sea of beautiful orange and she goes for these ones first?
She was convinced this one looked like a birthday cake and was, of course, infatuated with it.
Bug enjoyed running around, and was convinced the hay scattered all over the asphalt was "chippies" (wood chips) like on the playground, and tried to shovel/scatter/throw handfuls of it everywhere.
Feeling remorseful, I hope, about throwing hay on a baby.
The first ride she attempted was a small train that ran in a circle. I was verrrrry impressed that she was OK riding on it alone -- often times objects that move without her direct control make her nervous.
Maybe slightly unsure the first time around, but still game.
After that was over, Matt thought it would be a great idea to take her on the giant, inflatable slide. Needless to say, they held up the line a bit to get to the top.
Yes, that's Matt, the only adult, and Bug in front of him while the other kids worked on their patience.
They made it down once, and although she seemed to enjoy it, she announced she was done. The ride attendant tried to give Matt his ticket back (I think in theory you're supposed to get like 6 or 7 slides out of your ticket) but Matt wasn't interested in having it back.
There were a few other rides, including this disturbing mini ferris wheel with completely caged-in seats. No. There was also a miniature version of the big tree swing that I remember at MOA. From across the parking lot Matt declared that he "didn't trust anything off the ground here" and then Bug saw the swings and asked to go. So, what do you think happened:
She cried when the ride was over and we had to go home.
Whew! Fake-pumpkin patching is exhausting.
Saturday morning I went for a run in the rain (it doesn't rain for like 182 consecutive days, and the weekend our friends are visiting, it rains) and it felt so nice and cool. Matt then took Bug to the museum so I could have a girls date at the Farmer's Market with another friend. Good times all around. I especially enjoyed consuming an entire cup of coffee without having to finagle a stroller and charley horse my shoulder with a 36-pound dead weight (named Bug).
I was wearing a hat so of course she had to wear one, too.
This morning it was still raining. We had plans to meet the MPLS friends for brunch before their flight left. We decided on the Hash House, which is a mile or so from our house. There was a gargantuan breast cancer event at Balboa, and by 6:45 AM all the streets around our house were completely parked up (I checked the event website and they said they expected over 20,000 people). We decided to just walk up to the restaurant so we could keep our own parking spot on the street.
As we walk out of the house, I remark, "look, it's clearing up!" We decide to take the umbrella just in case. Which was a great idea because maybe six blocks into it it starts to really rain. Awesome.
The wait at the restaurant wasn't terrible (we were quoted 40 min for our party of seven, which is like a snap of the fingers for that restaurant, and probably only because it was poop for weather outside) although I got a little Sassy at the hostess when they seated a party of eight who arrived AFTER us, because they only had "one table" that could seat eight. I don't care! Make them wait! Seat us, dammit!
What in God's name is THIS? It doesn't rain here.
I managed five minutes of seething and management-talking-plotting before we were seated as well.
The portions are, just, unbelievable:
This is somehow ONE, SINGULAR pancake. I'm not even sure how you flip something like this.
After brunch we walked back home, and indulged Bug for 20 minutes by pretending we don't live surrounded by steep hills, and walked up and down the one relatively flat street.
Then she napped, sort of. We ran some errands. Target, of course.
All of these candy choices are just too overwhelming. Can't we get one of everything?
I then made the mistake (?) of stopping at Michael's without a plan. Why is that store so overwhelming for me? I wish there was a library for crafting things. Can I just check out a circular cutter, cutting mat and sewing machine to see if I have the knack for quilting before purchasing it all? What about 15 different colors of those little bottles of Martha Stewart craft paint?
Somehow we escaped with only $7.51 worth of damage. If you want in on the creation, you need to email me your address.
The best part of perhaps this ENTIRE WEEKEND happened when we went to Trader Joe's. Matt was grinding coffee, and Bug and I were trolling the sample counter. They had warm apple cider, which is my absolute favorite. I took one for myself, and made a point of drinking it in front of Bug, knowing she couldn't resist. When she asked, I happily took another one for her, also knowing that she would hate it, just so I could drink two cups. Success.
There was a young boy, maybe five or six, standing with his mother, who was talking to the sample girl. He walked around us and got himself a cup. Then he somehow became mesmerized with Bug because as he stood staring at her, he seemed to lose control of his motor skills and dropped his cup of cider on the floor (Hey, Physics! Listen up! Why is it that the volume of liquid in a cup seems to TRIPLE when it's been spilled??) I sort of froze, because I didn't know what to do, and the boy was acting kind of strange about it, and as if on cue, Bug yelled out over the din of everything going on in a packed Trader Joe's at 4:45 on a Sunday afternoon, "HE SPILLED!" I swear there was 10 seconds of utter silence (even though there totally wasn't).
The mom immediately said, "Yes, he did, but it's OK! Not a big deal!" I was so happy that that was her response, because truly, it was not a big deal, but I was also very embarrassed about my child. Next was she going to point out something else? "He spilled ALL OVER, Mama. It spilled ALL OVER. Everywhere." Thankfully she didn't, because she was too interested in trying to pull wine bottles onto the floor. Matt just shook his head that Bug seemed to have this effect on boys already (awkward, staring silence, followed by an act of personal embarrassment) and she was only 2. I just laughed, and laughed.
I promised Bug that we would paint her nails when we got home (I bought nail polish at Target). To my complete and utter amazement she sat perfectly still the entire time, except when she was worried as I painted her middle finger, that I had forgotten that I needed to also paint her ring and pinky fingers. I assured her I had not indeed forgotten, and it seemed to calm her. Before I started on her second hand, she all of a sudden had itches all over her body that were very important to scratch. I could relate. My eyebrows never itch until all my fingernails are wet with polish.
Afterward we blew on all her fingers and I told her she couldn't touch anything or put her hands in the pocket of her sweatshirt until they were dry. She was very concerned about them being wet well after I told her that they were OK and dry. Apparently the way you hold your hands and attempt to complete tasks when you think your polish is wet is universal and innate. Her mind was completely blown that the "paint" didn't come off of her hands in the bathtub. Mom: 1.
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