Lunch love.

Sometimes there are things that happen that are so Mom-errific that all you can do is beam with pride and chuckle. And also blog about it.

I put my first love note in Alex's lunch box last week, smiling ever-so-smugly to myself as I thought "I am SO nailing this Mom thing." *high five self* You know, because he's been in school nearly two months and I'm just now putting a note in his lunch. In my defense, he eats hot lunch every day--so technically it was the FIRST time I packed his lunch. Winning.

When we got home that day, we started our daily ritual of going through his folder to talk about his day, what he learned, and look at all his papers. Then, with an ear-to-ear smile he said, "Mom! I got your love note and it made me so happy. I even wrote you back!"

He pulled the note out of his folder and unfolded it carefully--with such pride in his work--and handed it to me as if was the most precious gift in the world. And to be honest, it was.

\

This was my original note.

He wrote "Alex" on the top

and "Dad" by the heart.

This is the rest of his reply on the back of my note.

It's hard to see it all, because he wrote in pencil and my marker bled through the backside of the paper, but at the top he wrote "Deeaal" which is such a hilarious capture of his personality right now. EVERYTHING is dealmaking with him. Sometimes he doesn't quite get what a "deal" is and will use his mad negotiating skills to get to bed 5 minutes earlier...and he thinks he "won." It's so funny.

My heart parts were ALL OVER as he shared with me what and how he wrote me back. You can see he also wrote "Alex," "Dad," "Mom," and drew a heart and a smiley face just like I did in my note.

What a Mommy milestone. I got my first love note from my boy and I'm so proud. Saving it foreverandeverandever, then end.

While hubby's away...

Kristi & Alex will play!

This week, Joey is on a man-cation with our dear friend Mark at his glorious cabin on the French River in Canada. You might recall that we usually go together over the 4th, but this year I'm saving my vacation for the move (read: decorating/organizing) and it actually is a really good time for Mark and Joe to reconnect their friendship. You know, bro time and all that.

So, while he's off fishing and grilling and scratching and burping, me 'n my 3 year old partner in crime are rasing a little hell of our own.

Sparklers!

Trips to Target!

(Please note he is wearing Joe's cell phone
holder as his "wallet" so he could buy a toy.)

I honestly just love hanging out with Alex. It's no longer this relationship of me taking care of him every second of every day...it's more of a friendship and hanging out together to do fun and silly things. Don't get me wrong, I'm his Momma first, friend second...but still, it's fun to have my dude as a sidekick. It also helps that Target is one of his favoritest places in all the land. He comes by it naturally.

Anyway, if you need us for the next 5 days please consider looking at Chuck E. Cheeses, the Warren Community Center or Target. Peace out.

In which I am the luckiest.

So I've been putting off this post for awhile now, mostly because I didn't want to jinx it. But also because I didn't want to get tarred and feathered. Because this? Is a hot topic.

Potty training.

It's no big secret that Alex has pretty much been the most awesomesauce kid regarding all things change since being sliced from my loins. Sleeping? 8-10 hours since he was 6 weeks old. Binky? Quit cold turkey and never looked back. Bottles? Day after his first birthday he would have none of it. Solid foods? Shrimp & avocado are two of his faves.

I legitimately did not want to potty train him. Ever. Literally, I could have waited until he was 12 and figured it out for himself and been totally fine with that. I've heard ALL the stories from ALL the moms. I researched ALL the tricks from ALL the experts. I read ALL the articles in ALL the mags. I wanted no part of it.

However, the few moms (of boys) that I talked to that had nothing but roses and ponies and sunshine to share regarding potty training all said one thing in common, "Wait until he's ready."

And so we did.

We've kept a little potty in the loo since about April. It just sat there. We added potty books to his repertoire. We talked about how the big kids at daycare go in the potty. But we only talked.

One day, he asked if he could pee in the big boy potty like Daddy. Seizing the moment, I took him in, lifted the lid...AND HE PEED. And angels sang and I did the "potty dance" and had absolutely no dignity left.

I bought Pull Ups that night. Can I get an amen for Costco?!?

He's never actually used the little potty. I think it was small and freakish to him, and he wanted to be like the big kids. So, I packed it up and got one of these for the magical #2s. For the record? Alex will do anything for Lightning McQueen. Anything. Use these things to your advantage, Moms.

About 2 weeks into the Pull Ups business we went full-on big boy undies (Lightning, natch) and with loads of support from Aunt Jane (daycare), I think it's safe to say we're 90% there. He still sleeps in the Pull Up, but wakes up totally dry 6 out of 7 days. He has yet to have an accident (this is where the jinx comes, I'm sure) and pretty much does the whole routine (sans wiping) himself. It's as if he doesn't even need me. *sniff*

In summary, I have no advice or nuggets of wisdom to share, other than the obvious, "Listen to your kid and do what is best for your family." If this involves waiting until he is 12 out of sheer fear, I support you.

I am my Mother's Daughter.

"I am a true believer in that you don't truly appreciate your Mom for all she is until you become one yourself. I welcomed Alex into the world in 2009 and only then did my head & heart understand a Mother's relentless, never-ending, uncompromising love. I am a piece of her..truly the best of her...and for that I am thankful. I love you, Mom!"

Click here to vote for us in Vera Bradley's Facebook "Letters to Mom" contest!

P.S. - I was limited to 140 characters for my entry...but I could type for days about the admiration, respect & awe I have for my Mom. To use a Grey's Anatomy-ism, she's my "person."

And then I laughed so hard I peed.

As we do every night, Joe and I peeked into Alex's room last night before we went to bed. Usually we see him snuggled into the tiniest ball in the corner of his crib (he sleeps like his Momma). We remove the 3,214,327,832,890,432,890,432 Cars 2 characters that he must have with him every night, give him extra smooches, turn on his humidifier and crawl into bed ourselves.

But last night was something special. Last night, we saw this:

I laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. Where did his jammies go? To be clear, I know that some kids are super fans of being naked and/or taking off their clothes. Alex has never done this, and actually likes to layer his clothes and would wear footie pajamas with socks and a tee shirt over them if he had his druthers.

I wiped away the tears streaming from my face and doubled over on the floor trying to stifle my laughter to keep from waking my sweet, naked boy. After we calmed down and took a picture (parents of the year!) we got him dressed and went to bed.

This morning, I asked the little pipsqueak why he took off his jammies in the first place. He simply responded, "Mom, I just didn't wanna wear 'em anymore."

And that's that.

Things I cannot explain. Even my Mom powers are null and void.

I realize this is going to sound strange: Alex has taken a recent liking to fans. Yes, literally fans. Fans on a stand. Fans on the ceiling. Box fans. Clip-on fans. The Dyson bladeless fan confuses him, but he still loves it.

I don't know where it came from, honestly. One day, he just got really excited to go in the basement to "see the little fan." The "medium fan" is upstairs. The "big fan" equates to ceiling fans. He's an equal opportunity fan lover, but if he can reach the buttons to turn it on and off himself, he loves it even more.

It's so weird. And I love him for it. While most little boys are fascinated by trucks and trains and planes, my kid is obsessed with fans. FANS!

And so, last week when Daddy went fishing, Alex and I went on an adventure. Most Moms might have taken the opportunity to visit the zoo. Or a playground. Or Chuck-E-Cheese. Or something else totally normal and kid-centric.

But us? We went to Bed, Bath and Beyond. Specifically, the fan aisle. No, I'm not kidding.

His mind was blown. Pun intended.

Bye, bye, binkie.

Honestly, I don't even know when it happened officially. But I realized this morning that we are totally binkie free. Actually have been for quite some time.

When he turned 2 (April 15), we started allowing the binkie when he was in the crib, only. Aka bedtime and nap time. And as soon as he got out of the crib, we would drop it back in and say, "See you later!" I think we had about 4 in the rotation at that time, and as he started to bite through them I'd just toss them out one by one. There aren't any left.

So that's it. No more binkie. He's never even asked for it. I would guess it's been nearly a month or two by now. Is it really that easy?

And to the Moms that totally experienced Hiroshima Pt. 2 when doing the binkie cease and desist (or some other version of binkie banishment that involves shipping it off to Santa for orphans that don't have binkies, recycling it for Captain Planet, or sending it to binkie heaven...I've read some cray-zee stories, for real), you are not allowed to hate me. I didn't plan it this way. I honestly thought we would have WW3 over this. It just sort of happened.

As payback for this little slice of binkie perfection, I fully expect potty training and moving to a big boy bed to be hellacious. Stay tuned.

Boom.

Did you hear that? It was the sound of tectonic plates colliding and colossal chaos somewhere in middle Michigan. Worlds are imploding. Oceans are emptying. This is BIG.

My Mom got an iPhone. And an iPad. Yesterday.

My Mom, who was quite certain 5 years ago that the Internet was "just a passing craze." My Mom, who still insists that texting is "impersonal and a waste of time." My Mom, who would ask me when I was 12 and checking Juno e-mail through our dial-up connection via the archaic IBM, "who are you talking to?" My Mom, who rolls her eyes at Facebook and the silliness of "sharing such personal things with the entire World."

But you know what? She's awesome for doing it, and I admire her willingness to constantly learn. Despite her usual persistence, she's gotten on board with texting and has thumbs quicker than most boy-crazed 13 year olds I know. She's learned how to email, realizing it's the coolest (and fastest) way to keep in touch with her kids. She's learned how to check our blogs and is known to comment occasionally, though she likes to stay anonymous.

We Skyped with her and Dad last night - it was awesome. Alex loved saying "nigh nigh" to his Grammi and Poppi and laughed when she gave him kisses through the screen. And no matter how old I get, it will always be nice to see my Mom's face AND hear her voice at the same time. There's just something comforting about that, you know?

So Mom, even though I know it kills you, thank you for being so hip and trendy by hopping on the technology train. Someday, when Alex wants me to get on board with whatever new-fangled, solar powered, telepathic communication devices exist, I hope I will be as cool as you.

'A' For Effort.

I am NOT a crafter. I do not paint. I do not knit. I do not sew. In fact, when the hem on my pants comes loose (as pants from the Limited are oh-so fated to do) I usually staple them and then color the staple with a sharpie so you can't see it. And then my Mommy comes to my rescue and sews it for me.

Aaaaaanyway, I was feeling a bit wild this week and was incredibly inspired by this post from Jessica at 'From Marriage to Motherhood.' I mean, really. All that last craft requires is some crepe paper and a little dexterity. This I can do.

And so, I did.

I'm quite proud of myself. And for a moment, let's be thankful that Alex goes to a home daycare so I only have to make five. The day he starts kindergarten and I have to do 30 of these, I'm done.

Bad Mom?

I don't think I can properly estimate the number of times people asked me on vacation if I missed Alex. Joey asked me at least twice a day, and it was the first question out of nearly everyone that I was introduced to.

"I love him, but I do not miss him," was my repeated response. Queue big, blank looks in response as if to say, "Really?? I don't believe you."

By about Thursday, Joey didn't believe me, either. He was having a bad case of the "Missing Alex Blues" and really didn't get why I didn't. And I really, really didn't. Like, at all. And here's why:

1. I got to sleep in every.single.day. Oh, and nap whenever I wanted.
2. I got to have many, many margaritas by le campfire and not have to worry about getting up the next morning (see #1).
3. I was able to be in and around open water without the constant, heart-stopping panic of "Where is my kid?!?"
4. I was able to slowly chew and properly digest ALL of my meals. Including dessert.
5. I only had to bathe myself.
6. I only had to wipe my own ass.
7. I spoke in a normal, adult voice for a week straight.
8. My literary selections for the week did not include sentences like, "Where's my belly button?" and "Baby loves puppies!"
9. No strollers. No highchairs. No carseats. No squeaky toys.
10. What was that? Oh...that was the sound of SILENCE. Bliss.

Don't misinterpret the above - I love my kid more than Jimmy Choos and MAC Lipglass, but it was SO lovely to just be MYSELF all week. And not that I'm not myself when I'm in Mommy Mode, but it's just different. Not better or worse, necessarily. Just different. And I will openly admit that the squeals of delight and sloppy kisses I received upon our arrival home were pretty much the best thing, ever.

So in summary, it was nice to be away and it was nice to come back...and you can bet the farm that I will be participating in at least 1 kid-free week of vacation a year. It's necessary for my survival.

Leaving On A Jet Plane.

In almost exactly 24 hours I will be boarding a plane to Connecticut to see Kelli and David. ::squeals of delight::

I haven't packed. I haven't cleaned my house. I haven't done laundry. I haven't tied up the million loose ends at work. I haven't even started THINKING about what to pack. And I am a very list-y person, mind you. My life is a series of endless sticky notes and barely legible used napkins.

Infant + plane + husband who is terrified of bringing infant on plane = #$*(#$*@.

Here's my current plan: pack as little as possible and make a run to Target when we arrive to buy baby food, diapers, formula, etc. Give Alex a healthy dose of Benadryl 20 minutes before boarding. Get Joey very liquored up at the airport bar 30 minutes before boarding.

Foolproof plan, no?

Hypothetically Speaking...

If you are cooking dinner and your son is energetically playing on the kitchen floor with pots, tupperware and a few wooden spoons as drumsticks and it suddenly gets eerily quiet, establish eye contact with the infant immediately.

Because hypothetically, he could be eating the dog food.

Could be. Just saying...

Like Buttah.

I'm on a roll.

For serious.

Remember on Sunday when we talked about the life-altering poppingcorn creation? Pause for applause. Today, we review another *gasp* Betty Homemaker moment -- spinach and ricotta stuffed shells were created for dinner last night. By me. From scratch. Like, I used an oven. I know...who am I? And what in the world has gotten into me?

all*you magazine has gotten into me, that's what. Jill and Kyle purchased a subscription for me as a birthday gift, and after a series of address problems and fistfights with the United States Postal Service* I finally got my first issue in le mail last week. This thing is seriously the greatest compliation of recycled paper, ever. Coupons galore. Recipes complete with shopping lists and price per serving for an entire week. Household organization and storage tips and tricks. Little life 'pick me ups'. Style tips for taking work attire into the evening hours. etc. etc. It's as if someone in the publishing world said, "Let's create a magazine specifically for Kristi Van Wormer and all her life's needs," and Voila! all*you was born.

Fast forward to last night, when I donned my "So Sarah Designs" apron (Seriously girl, get your etsy store up. Missed linky opportunity!) and whipped up a fanTAStic Italian dinner that Giada herself would be proud of. I used ricotta cheese and everything...and if that ain't Italian, I don't know what is.

Jill and Kyle, while I adore my magazine, I'm pretty sure Joey and his belly are forever indebted. :)

Oh, and le recipe is here, should you get the whim to be domesticated in the near future.

*No employees of the USPS were actually harmed in the writing of this blog post.

All The Single Ladies.

Single Moms, this one's for you:

YOU FRIGGIN' ROCK.

Joe has been out of town on business since Tuesday so Alex and I have been barely surviving in fake single mommy mode since then. It's SO. HARD.

Usually when I complain on le blog its mostly for attention and/or due to the fact that I have an insatiable flair for the dramatic. But I'm being totally honest when I tell you this flying solo thing is for the birds.

Exhibit A: Kristi has 7 am meeting. Alex cannot be dropped off at daycare any earlier than 7 am. You see the inherent problem? So I arranged to conference into the meeting via cell which is still harder than it sounds. I had to get myself totally ready and then woke up Alex...fed him, changed him and got him all bundled in the car seat. Picture me all dolled up for work (heels and all) trying to get my 17 lb. monster in his 10 lb. car seat out the door - all while balancing my laptop bag, purse, cell phone, keys AND trying to maintain a calm, cool business demeanor and actually make sense to the people on the other end of the call.

FAIL.

Today? 7:30 am meeting. I did it all again, only this morning Jake decided to lunge at me (while holding Alex) when I tried to put him outside. He's on his last life in the VW house and I am NOT kidding you.

The weekend cannot come fast enough.

Check Please?

Today, I was a machine.

Kelli's bachelorette party? Planned.

Kelli's bridal shower? Nearly there.

Super surprise dinner for Joey that he's been CRAVING for like 2 weeks? Cooking as I type.

House? Picked up...but not Mr. Clean, clean. Which is fiiiiiiiiine.

Cookies? Baking.

Baby? Sleeping.

Bring it, world.

Thursdays = Lame.

Today is Thursday. Which gives me slight anxiety because I feel like I never really got to give Wednesday the respect it so deserves since I didn't REALIZE it was Wednesday until 10 p.m.

Thursday is not Hump Day. Thursday is not Friday. Thursday is basically an in-between, sucky day that pretends to be Friday, but fails miserably. Epically, even.

So, in a feeble attempt to make it suck less, I am going to shower and take my babe out for an afternoon in Royal Oak with Aunt Kelli and Aunt Sarah. Take that, Thursday.

Supermom.

Joey is home from work today (obvs) so I am playing the role of mom and nurse. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm basically awesome. Toot, Toot.

Today I've accomplished:

- Wake up Alex, feed, change. Sanitize bottles b/c we forgot to do it on Sunday. Sneak preview: blog on AWESOME bottle sanitizing product tomorrow.

- Wake up Joey, ice for foot, give medicine. Repeat every 2 hours.

- Brew coffee, provide bfast for both me and hubs.

- Show the treadmill who's boss for 30 minutes. Holla!

- Diaper change for MASSIVE poop. Though some of you might be thinking for Joey, I assure you it was Alex.

- 3 loads of laundry. Washed, folded AND put away, thankyouverymuch.

- Lunch for all three of us.

- Shower.

- Trip to Wally World for miscellaneous grocery and household items.

- Planted NEW flowers in the back yard, protected by supercute mini white picket fence. In related news, dog for sale: name is Jake, but will answer to Dumb Dumb, Nazi Dog, Crazy and Royal Pain In The Ass. Sheds like it's going out of style and digs up freshly planted flowers just for fun. Screw the sale, I will PAY you to take him.

- Bathed Alex. Splish, splash I was takin' a bath...

- Watered flowers and lawn. I should warn you, sprinklers are very, very tricky. I may or may not have soaked both me AND my child in an attempt to figure out which direction the stoopid thing was going.

Next I shall make dinner (talapia, couscous and roasted veggies...and a glass bottle of white wine) and chillax on the couch until one of the men in my life need something else.

Toot, toot, indeed.