Time to squeeze in a quick update for you before your brother’s big milestone steals the show. You turned 21 months old this week which means its just THREE short months until you turn two, and THREE short months until Scott and Ashley’s wedding. Its going to go fast, and while Im very anxious and excited for the wedding, I’d like these baby days to linger. Something about hitting 2 makes you so much less of a baby, but as much as I want you to still be my baaaaaybee, you are a thriving, happy, fiesty little toddler.

Our summer days are filled with everything and nothing. Hands down my favorite word of yours is swimsuit: “swsw” (it makes kind of a whistling sound when you say it). If you see it come out of the wash or hanging on your door you get excited and exclaim “SWSW.” If anyone even suggests swimming you run to your dresser and frantically try and figure out which drawer it might possibly be in, “swsw”-ing the entire time. You like to go around the house asking about going “dide” (outside) and “poo-yaya” (pool water). You love the water. I think you even love the water more than Nathan if that is possible. At just 21 months you already love being on your belly doggy paddling with the least amount of assistance your parents will allow. You are fearless about falling over, getting a mouthful of saltwater, or being sloshed by a wave. You have little interest in playing in the sand. The water is where its at. If we are driving down the road and pass the beach you make sure to let everyone know that the “YAYA” is within spitting distance. When we go to the beach and you see the water the expression on your face is the purest form of toddler joy.

little miss determined

When you aren’t seeking out water you can be found carrying around your basket of barrettes (a girl has to accessorize) and trying on your shoes. Now that you are a sturdy walker you even will tromp around in my heels in addition to all your jillions of pairs of shoes. You have a baby stroller (“doe-woe”) you like to push around, two actually. You will attempt to push them both, like a frazzled little mommy who really just needs a double stroller for those two dolls: Becky (“ba”) and Stella (“Tah”). You like to play in your kitchen and Im impressed how, for quite some time, you’ve gotten the idea of pretend…..drinking from empty plastic cups, serving up bowls of empty, shoveling spoonfuls of delicious nothing into your mouth. Its so cliche, yet true, how girls just gravitate to girl stuff. You love my makeup brushes and in the mornings you are always wandering around upstairs with some little bottle or tube or jar of something. Usually something you’ve raccooned from my nightstand or a drawer in the bathroom. You love chapstick or anything resembling chapstick and smearing it all over your face. On more than one occassion you’ve found a stamp that had a similar tube-like shape and smeared it all over your lips and then some. Green. Its a good color for you.

You love music and you love dancing. Your favorite song is Sugar by Flo Rida. As soon as we get in the car you ask for music. As soon as a good song comes on your little fist starts pumping- you’d fit right in with those crazy kids on Jersey Shore with your pump. You call yourself “dee dee” (Kenzie) and I suppose we should be thankful you call yourself something close to your actual name, considering we still have dozens of names for you, the most popular still being Kiki and Kunu and Little Macky.

You’re a great eater and an even better scavenger. We call you our little raccoon. Im confident you’d survive in the Serengeti because you always know how to find food. If I ever forget to shut the pantry completely I know it because I can her some riffling around in the kitchen and then you emerge with a box of croutons. Or an entire bag of rice crackers. Or a box of granola bars, bringing it to me asking for “naaah, naaah” (snack). You sit like a big girl at the dinner table- [long] gone are the days of using your tray on your booster. You eat off a plate with a fork like you are some kind of little lady. And then remind us that you aren’t because you insist on putting your feet on the table. I would have chosen to ignore this stunt- not because I, in any way, find it ok, but your dad has chosen the opposite reaction and now you look straight at him, sneak a foot up and onto the table and grin waiting for a reaction. Its a game. And we play it more now than we ever did before.

You and Nathan love playing with each other. Its been nice that the older you get the more you can play together. You guys like having a ‘two bath’ as Nathan calls it and the more water that is splashed and consumed (oh yuck) the better the bath. You like to copy each other, and sadly its more 5-yr-old-copy-the-20-month-old than the other way around- this has been especially [un]pleasant when we go out to dinner and everyone around us must wonder if we’re raising chimps or children. You love to play in his room and bounce on his bed. You play with the most mundane things (a patch from his old flight suit, a medicine syringe etc) and I wonder if this is just you or if its some kind of second-child-never-got-anything-to-play-with type thing?

While I was gone you fully discovered the toddler crack that is Baby Einstein (I must document that you call Lions “why-we’s” -love. it.) Your dad took that a step further and had set up his little Acer laptop at the kids table in the family room. You thought you were some kind of high roller over there with a laptop at your disposal. I insisted that be put away before we created a Mac Monster and now you settle for picking up the remote and demanding ‘die die’ (einstein). As soon as those bright colored animal puppets make their appearance you go nutty. DIEEEEE DIEEEEEE/laugh/giggle/squeal/bounce/flail arms around. You love yourself some Einstein and for a little bit each day Im happy to oblige.

I’ve never been one of those mom’s who…..oh….how do you say??? cares? too much about all the stuff some parents get so wound up about. TV? Sure, but not too much. Ruining your appetite with Cheetoes while we’re hanging out outside on a beautiful day, in the pool, with friends? I insist. Your brother using the top of the slide as a launching pad while standing on the swing as I write this– looks like schools-out-summer-fun to me. Being more carefree and not worrying so much is a lesson Im still trying to learn, I get frustrated easily and discouraged and worry too much about things that, in the big scheme of things, really aren’t that important. When you grow up and look back, I want you to remember more of the days that we played in the pool and ate Cheetoes for dinner and less of the ones where Im freaking out about the house being messy and laundry being folded (which is so FUTILE because its never totally picked up and there is always one. more. load. of laundry to fold.)

The closer we get to two the more frequent and more trying your tantrums are. You are so much feistier than your brother. I thought girls we’re supposed to be easy the first 10 years and difficult the second 10? If this is easy Im not sure Im going to survive the teenage years. Your moods just defy all logic. You tell us you want something, we go to get it or open it or turn it on or whatever it is that needs to be done but half the time it ends in an utter, total, meltdown. Something clearly doesn’t go according to plan in your mind and your attitude then is “Screw this. This is not how I wanted it. I wanted it my way on my terms on my time and you can just FORGET IT NOW.” Oh these difficult days of toddlerhood, they are so trying, aren’t they?

those eyes....

The problem is, when you aren’t melting down on the kitchen floor, mopping it with your butt as you shove yourself around in fury, you are such an adorable, lovable, charming little girl. You love attention and will do anything for a laugh or a smile or a high five or sometimes even negative attention is ok. As long as the spotlight is on you. You will still make ’sweet eyes’ for us and come running into our arms- screaming and smiling, for either mama or dadEE. I hope you will always be that happy to see us, that happy to have us around. Promise me you will and I’ll let you have cheetoes for dinner.

love always,
mama

We’re sick. All of us. All four of us at the same time with whatever coughy, sniffly, fever, chill plague someone brought home. I won’t point fingers but I blame your brother. Thankfully we’re all in different stages of the game but you and I are DOWN today. I really really hope my next post isn’t another: is it strep? yep. You all but put your head down on the table with your Ling Ling at dinner. Its hard seeing you look so pitiful and knowing there is nothing I can do except Motrinize you.

But aside from being in the depths of viral doom, you’re eighteen months old! EIGHTEEN. You are now closer to two than you are to one. Oh its so cliche and predictable and every parent says it but its true– WHERE does the time go?

Before we got sick and I was mentally composing this post in my head (you see, it wasn’t supposed to start off with a viral rundown) I decided I could pretty much sum up 18 months with one sentence: If you were to be stranded on a desert island this is what you would take: your shoes, your dad and crayons. Those three things, in that order, pretty much keep your planets aligned.

People think Im kidding when I say you love shoes. I was going to line up all your shoes and take a picture, but, ha, that didn’t happen, but Id estimate you have about 20+ pair. In size 6 that you will outgrow in about two weeks. When we go over to friend’s houses you make a beeline for their shoes. When friends come to our house, you make a beeline for their shoes. When we play upstairs you go through all your shoes, and then move to the mothership–a la my closet. Currently several of my shoes are spread around the upstairs thanks to your wear them and leave them wherever policy. Your hands down favorite are your red shoes. Your dad brought these back from Baby Gap (did I mention you have your dad wrapped around your finger several times over?) several sizes too large, last winter. Since then you have tromped around in them, usually on the wrong feet, every single day. Multiple times a day. The putting on and taking off of shoes makes up the majority of your play time. These shoes are ruby red and they have a large fake diamond looking gem adhered to them. They look like they have been worn by a 300 lb person because they are so stretched out from you smashing your feet in them. I will keep those shoes forever. I will remember how huge they looked on your little feet. I will remember the way you clip clopped around the house in them, beaming.

the cookie dough heist

Your verbage is coming, albeit slowly. If I ask you to repeat something generally you’ll babble something that at least mimics the correct number of syllables. Pineapple is pie-puh, you’ve recently discovered “daugh….daugh” (dogs). Most importantly, just a few days after my birthday (its ok, with the time difference its hard to say what day it really is on, right?) you uttered The Word: Mama. Now you run up to me, patting me on the chest fiercely telling me “MAMA MAMA MAMA.” Yes, thats me.

You do alright with animal sounds depending on your mood. If you aren’t in the mood every animal makes penguin sounds. For those of you who don’t know, a penguin waddles from side to side and says ‘ping ping ping’. For you this means tipping your head from side to side and saying “peeng peeeng peeng.” You can mostly identify your eyes, ears, nose and hair. Mostly. You love things that are “Pee” (pretty.) Every day you pull my shirt down to see if I have a necklace on, and you tell me its Pee. You look at your basket of barrettes and point and tell me “bee bee.” I know, a girl needs to accessorize. You love it when I tickle your face with a blush brush and you are all about putting lipstick (chapstick) on. You even know to smack your lips afterwards. You like going through our bathroom drawers and getting out various brushes and combs to style yourself pretty. I also noticed you squirreled away my deodorant in your ‘purse’. I don’t think you need to worry about BO for another 10 years.

You love to play outside and specifically play at the basketball court that is practically in our back yard. There must be something about the sense of freedom you have having that whole cement court all to yourself. You love to be chased and you giggle and squeal the entire time. You love the water table. I love it mostly, its just a guaranteed outfit change you know, because you can’t play in the water without playing IN the water. You love balls and are quite pleased with yourself when you take the blue plastic golf club and swat a ball 4 inches. Small victories I guess.

I find it particularly endearing that you seek out flowers for me. Yes- your 18mo old self goes and plucks clover after clover, proudly holding your arm out as far as you can, running towards me, usually tumbling over at least once because you are so focused on your flower instead of your route (and because the clover is so thick you usually disappear momentarily), and you walk up to me beaming and say “pee” and I know in your own little way you’re telling me, “look, I got this for you mama.”

You are a fiesty little girl. I suppose you need to make sure your voice is heard since you are the youngest, but definitely not the ’smallest’. Oh no, you make your presence well known. Both your dad and I crack up when Nathan takes something from you, and your immediate reaction is a high pitched, just-watch-me-scream-rape shout. You look to either me or your dad before you belt it out. Its hard not to laugh because what is going through your brain is so clear “DUDES– did you see him just TAKE THAT from me, just straight up GANK it? Thats Not Ok. I know how to rectify this situation, [clear throat, look at mom or dad, whomever is most likely to respond and insert glass shattering scream.]” Works every time. And whats funny is usually the crisis is over something mundane. Like a red crayon. For the love– how many red-ISH crayons are in the Crayola box? Like, a dozen? But no, it has to be that red crayon. Or that little people cow when there are two. Or that airplane when there are 100’s.

You will still make sweet eyes for us and you love to ham it up at the dinner table. Dinnertime is usually a circus in monkey see monkey do. And it goes both ways, you copy Nathan, Nathan copies you. Thankfully, by and large, you guys are good buds. He is always ah, careful, usually willing to get you paper to color, find your ling ling, find your cup, get you a toy or open the pantry so the two of you can peruse the snack shelf. Yes, Nathan has figured out how to ‘bait the dumb one’ and come to me and say “well…..Mackenzie said she wanted oreos for a snack.” Really, all the way in the back of the freezer, huh? And back to the dinner table- I feel like Im raising some sort of….what? I don’t know, my funny isn’t working but dear Lord, the mess child. I realize its not a fair comparison since we had the great Sandino when Nathan was this age but really, its like every time you find something unpalatable on your tray you slyly fling it onto the floor. Im getting very tired of sweeping and scraping dried food off the floor. A friend of mine said she was looking forward to a steam mop for her birthday. I responded with: a mop? I need a steam SHOVEL to clean up after my mess maker(s).

You are a great night sleeper and usually take one good and one not so good nap a day. The Earth doesn’t turn quite right when the nap schedule gets messed up. Go to bed early, wake up early, the whole day is ruined….you like your sleep. And so do I.

As I picked out your clothes today I kind of chuckled at the fact that I desperately needed to do laundry- evidenced by the fact that your dad, Nathan and I are running out of clothes. However, your drawers were still jammed so full I had to stuff them to get them shut. You are so spoiled in so many ways by so many people that love you. But most of all me.

love you always,
mama

What Im envisioning is this: a fitted satin bodice, sleeveless but not strappy (because they will slide off her shoulder at this age). A gathered TEA LENGTH organza-ish skirt that has body but is not puffed out so far it looks like she has a tutu on underneath it. A simple understated sash with bow is ok. Some simple beading is ok. Delicate covered buttons would be great.

This I lurve.

What Im finding is a lot of this:

Its an earthy dress….it has a bit of a  compost pile feel to it.

This clearly was inspired by a lampshade

Will there be cute boys there to take her to the prom after the ceremony?

Flowergirl en route to the regatta gala?

WTH? The hat? I hope some bloomers come with this number otherwise her Pamper-diapered ass will be hanging out.

Will someone please return these to their rightful owners? Cinderella and Belle Im looking at you.

Its got kind of a toddler maternity look to it. Allows for 2nds at the buffet.

Wait….who’s the one getting married today?

I like the maiden look with the strange scribbly pattern (maybe it even comes with extra markers?) I especially like the highly appropriate flower girl-sexy-pose.

.

(GAH– I cannot find the sexy take me home flowergirl picture again. I’ll keep looking)

$20 and you can take me home with you tonight. $20 for my friend too. But only if you get us some shirley temples from the bar.

She’ll be playing the part of wreath in the decor.

Oh....now....is this not darling? Wings AND a magic wand? Do you think she can really fly?

She’s convinced her prince will come if she catches the bouquet.

I loved the 80’s. I especially love “Jem, Jem is outrageous, truly truly truly outrageous….”

If this doesn’t make her into a real princess nothing will. AND, she can wear it for Halloween too. I wonder how many brides have hot pink and hot purple as their wedding colors that this was created to match perfectly to.

Elizabeth whilst you tell me whereth you got your dress?  Well, my grandmum doth made it from a smelly old pillow and musty curtains.

]]> http://www.itsprettyok.com/index.php/2010/03/18/flower-girl/feed/ 5 http://www.itsprettyok.com/index.php/2010/01/07/fifteen/ http://www.itsprettyok.com/index.php/2010/01/07/fifteen/#comments Thu, 07 Jan 2010 11:43:19 +0000 Lisa http://www.itsprettyok.com/?p=1339 Mackenzie,

You turned 15 months old this week and you started walking (for real this time). I love watching your face as you toddle across a room, part exhilaration and pure excitement of your newfound freedom, part fear of toppling over. I had forgotten how much fun this stage is– just a few short days of learning the new skill. Soon it will be old news.

We still call you Kiki or little Macky or Kenzie or little SAAHSAAY (sassy). Or Little Mama or BooBoo or KeeGee or Keek. I’ve also started calling you MYkenzie which will probably just throughly confuse you as to what the correct pronunciation of your name really is. And when you climb all over your brother and giggle with delight– that’s called a MAC ATTACK.

I was just thinking today how cavalier I’ve been about your words, I mean, compared to a 4 year old that can talk AND walk, you’ve still got a ways to go, but compared to when Nathan was this age- he had a few sounds/signs but you’ve got actual words. Nathan really didn’t speak at all until just after he turned two. Today you started stringing a bunch of nonsense together and it was like “mom, don’t you get what Im saying?” After dinner you’ll start pulling on someone’s leg for your “baah baah” (bath). You ask for “wa wa” and you like things that are “peee” (pretty). You are totally your mother’s daughter in that you can spot a baked good a mile away “EEH EEH (cookIE)” you say it over and over and you add in the sign for “yes please” as well as nodding your head. Hopefully the trifecta of word, sign and nod is the winning combo to ensure success. Im such a sucker. You like to play with the phone and say “I” (hi) and ask if its “da…..da?” (never mama. Never). You say bir for bird, boo for book. EEZ for cheese and ack for snack. and you have some strange word for vacuum. You have a strange love/hate with the vacuum, terrified if it gets to close to you, fascinated from a safe distance and you always do the sign for ‘more’ followed by your word for vacuum whenever the ‘ole Dyson gets turned off. Im so glad these domestic duties excite you. We’ve sort of regressed on the animal sounds…now pretty much any mammal says “WHOO” or “RAAH.” Meh, its the shortcut I guess.

If someone asks me what your favorite thing is, hands down its got. to be. your. shoes. You love yourself some shoes girl. And, if the mood hits you, socks are ok too. I’ve been a bit of a sucker for the See Kai Run shoes- you love having me put them on and take them off. You absolutely beam with delight when I say “you have shoes on? You look. so. pretty.” You are my girlie girl. You are interested in accessories. You tell me my necklaces are “pee” and for Christmas your to-be Aunt Ashley picked out a very cute little Fisher Price purse that comes with an assortment of girlie items but most importantly a pink plastic bracelet. You shove your chubby little hand through it, hold it up and wait for me to tell you how pretty you look.

Admiring her silver mary janes

In addition to your shoes, socks, and bracelet, you love to get into whatever Nathan is doing. You love stuffed animals and are interested in mundane things (a plastic straw wrapper!) as well as things like the Apple remote. Which you correctly point at the TV, push the button and start/pause a show. 15 month olds….they can do anything.

When we tell you your food is hot you put your hand over it and say” HA” (hot) and then proceed to blow on it. I think it probably ranks up there in the cutest! thing! ever! that today Janelle told you the oven was hot and you proceeded to blow on it. Same thing happened when you were trying to climb up the step ladder (the one your brother was already occupying) and reach towards the electric fry pan. Your dad told you it was hot and you blew some slobbery air at it.

And while we’re on the topic of food; girl, you can eat. If I had to pick a favorite….blueberries?  I’m fairly certain if I didn’t stop with say, an entire bowl, you’d just keep eating them. Fresh or frozen, doesn’t matter. You had real strawberries for the first time last week and I think those might rival the blueberries. You like waffles and cookies and yogurt and oatmeal. Raisins, peas, grapes, and pita. You mostly want exactly what we’re eating. You can’t seem to choke down anymore string cheese (“Kenzie….we’ve got to run some errands….mama will bring some string cheese with us!”) so, I should really stop buying that. You’ve started requesting water just out of the blue which is just so nice to actually have you communicate what it is you want.

You love playing outside with the kids and now that you’re walking Im sure you’ll be chasing after them instead of just waving and screaming at them. You and Nathan play well together and I think its pretty dang cute that Nathan has started pulling the other end of your bike and he asks me what I want to drink. You probably don’t realize it but you (and Nathan) are flight attendants, your bike is the food cart and you guys are working the aisles of the airplane passing out food. A brother and sister flight attendant team, srsly, too cute.

Judging by the rail of your crib you apparently could have a career as a woodchuck or a beaver or whatever creature uses its 4 front teeth to gnaw away at a piece of wood. Nathan did this trick but no where NEAR the extent that you have. Since the crib was flipped the other direction when he was in it he chewed on one end and you’re working hard at the other. It kind of makes me want to keep the crib when we’re done with it, for no other reason than its got those sweet little teeth marks in it. Ah, Im a sucker for sentimental value.

You wear 24mo/2T and still have the chubbiest little legs and arms. Janelle even pointed out your chubby fingers today, but I promise, they are still dainty in their chubbiness. You have a nice round little tummy and a flat-ish butt. I had to trim up your bangs this week– at least some part of your hair looks groomed. Most days we’re somewhere between a peacocked-Farrah-mullet and just a mullet. I managed to get your hair some teeny pigtails a few times (and they’re so! cute! a cross between a Sprite and Shrek! but you fight me and fight me and damn… it takes me at least 10 tries to just get one in, its so frustrating to watch you stroke that fluffy tail and then pull the rubber-band out (“noooooooooooo”). You’ve also started boycotting barrettes… put it in, take it out, put it in, take it out. I give up. Rock the mullet if you want. Unless I have you totally distracted its futile.

I dread going anywhere with you in the car because you are just a miserable crank. Your Uncle Steve has determined, after being squashed in the backseat with you, that you just don’t like being confined. You’re a free spirit and you need to roam. So, on the one hand, too many minutes spent in the car with you can put a damper on my day, but for the most part Kiki, you make me smile and make me laugh every day. Nathan was (is) a real character too but you- you know how to work a crowd. You’ve started doing sweet eyes again and the more we smile and laugh the more you do it. I hope you make that face forever.

In the mornings after we drop Nathan off at school we come home and do the shred with Jillian Michaels. Your stare goes from the TV, to me and then back to the TV. You smile and wave your arms and shake your booty like you’re doing it to. When Im doing pushups or sit-ups you’ll crawl over  and get right near my face, turn sideways and give me a big smile like “yeah mama, us girls gotta workout….together.”

love you forever,

mama

-weighs 25lb 6oz and is 32″ tall

- nods her head yes in an exaggerated, smile on her face nod. She also does a few signs (please, more, all finished) but not necessarily at the right time- so Im not sure where we are on that.

-Says “nee nee” (Ling Ling her monkey companion), “Beee” (baby), “BAH!” (bath), “Da!” (but not always at the right time), “wooohohoh” (dog-that is both the word and the sound they make), she knows the sounds for dogs, tigers, bunnies, elephants and fish.

- Despite the bold statement I went ahead and made on Facebook, I jinxed myself and she is in fact not walking. We’re back to crawling. Crawling is where its at.

-She likes playing with whatever her brother is into. She loves digging in the crayons, taking airplanes, playing with pretend food, she even likes to pick up a napkin and pretend she’s wiping things off.

-She’s fiesty. She’s much more strong willed than her brother….there’s arching…and tears….and red faces….and punches being thrown and scratching faces. She’d do well in a cat fight.

-She’s a total stinker in the car. She whines and cries and fusses anytime we get in the car. It sort of makes me want to just drive my car into a pole after listening to it for 20 minutes.

-She’s like a lost little puppy around dinner time pulling on my pant leg begging to be picked up. Girl likes to be held.

-She loves to play outside and push her little bike around. She squeals at all the big kids and loves watching all the action. She loves chalk…both the consumption of as well as ‘drawing’ with it on the sidewalk.

-Being the lone parent to her and her brother right now is slowly sucking out my will to survive. Which is why you aren’t hearing from me much these days.

As our story last left off I was relishing the fact that we were all sick, PC was working terrible hours, we were all tired, cranky. Saturday morning rolls around and Mackenzie was roasting like a little turkey, fussy, not sleeping well, woke up at 5am crying. I made the executive decision that since we were leaving in about 36hrs it would be wise to have her seen, just to make sure something wasn’t brewing, something that would, you know, cause a plane to divert because that baby in the back is screaming so loud. There is no Saturday clinic so the ER is our only option. PC was a sweetheart and offered to take her. The checked her out, ears looked fine I also wondered about a bladder infection since a friends daughter had one with very few symptoms.

We drugged her as much as we could with tylenol and motrin, ran errands, planned to have dinner with friends and the day just kept going downhill. Mackenzie didn’t want to nap, she didn’t want to be held, she didn’t want to be put down, she was happiest when she was just screaming or screaming louder. We put her down for the night as early as possible and she kept waking up every 30 minutes or so crying. Still concerned I told PC I didn’t think this was just a virus. She’s had viruses before and she’s never like this. So, at around midnight he took her back again. Her temp was 103 (dear Santa, my piece of shit ear thermometer doesn’t work. I need something better). This time I told them to insist on checking her urine. Poor baby had to endure not one, not two, but three attempts to get a catheter in. PC said it was so awful it brought him to tears watching her go through it. Aaaand, it was negative. So, I felt horrible too. They checked her over again, insisted she was fine, it was just a virus.

Sunday morning rolls around and our flight was at 12:30. We probably left a few too many things to do for the morning and the stress was compounded when PC went to go print his leave papers and the system was down for maintenance. We can’t leave the country without them. So PC has to find an….uh, alternative method for producing his leave papers which really boiled down to a big time suck.We left the house around 9:30 and needed to return some movies. On the way to the shopette PC said “look at your kids.” I turn around and both of them had their heads leaning to the side, thumbs in mouths, looking all matchy matchy. Cute. “Whats all over her ear?” I ask. “Food.” “But she had a muffin and cantaloupe to eat….those don’t have good smear quality.” We get to the shopette and while PC is dropping the movies I go and inspect. Ear goo. Copious amounts of green ear goo flowing from her ear. Damn. Thats just swell. Obviously if anything were really wrong with either of our kids we would have missed the flight or just skipped the whole trip if we had to. No trip is more important than them, but really- after TWO TRIPS to the ER, one of them not more than 7 hours ago you couldn’t see that her eardrum was about to explode? Really?

“We’ve got to go back in.” PC looks at me and asks if I really think her eardrum has ruptured. “She was crying a lot– maybe its just her tears drained in there. Maybe its just wax.” My husband is a brilliant person, but his ability to assess medical situations could use some work. “Wax? Who has green runny ear wax?” “Maybe its just snot draining.” “Out of her EAR? Snot can’t just flow out of any orifice. No its an ear infection.” PC said he was admitting defeat….he had taken her the last two times and I think he was feeling badly that an ear infection this bad was missed. Plus, I told him before we got to the hospital “which one of us has the ability to get things moving quickly if we are going to make this flight…..you-the Captain or me?” Me. I was actually very nice because I knew they would be doing me the favor, I kept my fingers crossed because we had 45 minutes tops if we had any prayer to make the flight. We waited for about 20 minutes. They triaged us, Mackenzie had a total Pavlovian response as soon as she saw that nurse and rectal thermometer, they got us into the exam room and the Corpsman asked the dr. to see us first given our time constraint. The dr. came in, Mackenzie started freaking out again. The doctor attempted to look in her ear and was all, “well….I can’t see anything, I could make you sit here while I clean it out just to confirm that it did rupture, or I can just give you some drops and oral antibiotics and send you on your way.” Yes, we’ll take option B.

The Corpsman was bringing us the discharge paperwork and as Im scribbling my name a fire alarm goes off. The stairway to the second floor pharmacy slams shut and we’re all ushered out of the building due to a “code red.” Whatever that is. We sit in the car for another 10 minutes waiting. I voiced my concern to PC….first it was the leave paperwork. Then it was the ear goo. Now its a fire alarm. If anything anything else goes wrong- we’re just stopping. Its a sign that we weren’t meant to get on this plane.

Well, nothing else did go wrong, we made it to the plane, had a miserable flight down here because someone missed both of their naps which resulted in a system overload. I told PC as she was screaming while we were boarding the flight “she’s going to crash out as soon as she hits her seat….she’s so past tired.” Wrong. Girlfriend screamed for the first hour rubbing the eyes, so tired it was painful to watch. For the remaining 6 hours she cried on and off. We walked with her, we rocked her, we sang to her, we even offered to rope the damn moon for her and she just kept crying. Im sure it was partly because she didn’t feel so great but mostly she was just exhausted….why is it when you reach system overload the “system” doesn’t just power down? Instead it keeps the alarms going.

We arrived in Singapore about 1am our time. Both kids were actually quite pleasant given the hour. We opted for the hotel to send a shuttle for us….at 1am with two tired kids, wait, lets be honest, 3 tired kids (me), the last thing I was prepared to do was fart around trying to figure out how to fit a stroller and two suitcases and backpacks into a small taxi and then have the taxi driver be all “what hotel?” and we’re driving around trying to find a hotel in a strange city at 1am. $70 well spent.

We get to the hotel and check into our room. We opted for one of the newer nicer rooms, but was told there was no room for a rollaway. We went and checked it out anyway, Nathan enjoyed watching TV in the bathroom, we ripped into the complimentary mini-bar (I know!), and PC rearranged some funiture and told the front desk he was sure we could fit a roll away. The guy on duty insisted we couldn’t, I didn’t care that much so we got one of the older “club level” rooms which….I don’t know, bigger is all relative. If its bigger its not much bigger. And its definitely not as nice or as clean. But, as we were approaching 3am I stopped caring. PC called the bellman to come get our luggage again, I took Mackenzie back downstairs to get our new keys and had to wait while the one guy on duty was arguing with a prostitute and ushering her out of the hotel. Dudes….I just need my keys. Me and my greasy haired, stains all-over-her-shirt, green-goo eared daughter want our keys and want to go to bed.

So, that was our first night. Today everyone is exhausted. Mackenzie has been a terrible sleeper and it makes me vacillate greatly between “Gesus this just isn’t worth it” and “its not that bad, you are in SINGAPORE for crying out loud. Deal.”

We’ve strolled around today and what we’ve seen is beautiful. Everything is so clean, its decorated beautifully for Christmas. Forget Rockafeller Center– Orchard Road is just as good. Lunch today was at one of the Hawker centers and it did not disappoint. So, hopefully things will look up from here, we’ll all get a good nights sleep and tomorrow will be a much better day.

We had a good time monkeying around, it was a small neighborhood crowd which was just about the right speed for a 1yr old. Everyone was a fan of the quiche, french toast and fruit but the big seller was “monkeys in a blanket.”

You may note they are not quite in order. Ya can’t have everything folks.

]]> http://www.itsprettyok.com/index.php/2009/10/13/took-ya-long-enough/feed/ 4 http://www.itsprettyok.com/index.php/2009/10/10/monkey-business/ http://www.itsprettyok.com/index.php/2009/10/10/monkey-business/#comments Sat, 10 Oct 2009 11:15:48 +0000 Lisa http://www.itsprettyok.com/2009/10/10/monkey-business/ more to come tomorrow