Sunday

Sometimes I think Brian was a cruise director in a former life. We spend surprisingly little down time just lounging around the house. For example:
Sunday morning I got up at 5:30 so I could be out the door at 6AM. I had planned to meet up with Hilary and Kristen for a long run. It was HOT, and even at that early hour, I was DRENCHED by the time I got home (albeit, 14 miles and 2 hours later).
So, I got home at 8, and then went running with Riley. Actually, I went “running” with Riley. Mostly, we walk with Skoshi to the coffee shop. Once there we split a cinnamon roll and each got a beverage (no coffee yet for Riley, although Jackson has become insistent that he get coffee when I have some. So, I’ve relented. I make a cup of hot water and add a copious amount of milk. This seems to make him happy.)
Anyway, our breakfast was cut short by a call from Brian reminding us we were on a schedule. So, we trotted back home and then frantically donned swimsuits and sunscreen and hopped into the car to make it down to Big Kahuna’s water park by the time it opened at 10am.
Riley loves Big Kahuna’s, and Brian and I take turns with her on the various water slides. Jackson is not thrilled with the water slides, but loves the big rocketship (big shock) in the front, so it’s a win-win situation. We have season passes and so don’t feel bad about leaving after an hour or two, before the big crowds have woken up and decided to stand in line for the water slide.
At noon, we were all sufficiently hungry that we had to leave. Like many theme parks, there’s no outside food allowed. Unlike many theme parks there is ZERO in the way of healthy food (french fries, pizza and burgers). Hence we leave. There’s a relatively healthy (ish) southwestern grill down the road, so we went there.
Generally when eating out, we only order 3 meals, since Jackson doesn’t eat much. So, Riley and Brian got quesadillas, and I got a burrito. We figured Jax could share with Riley.
Wrong.
Riley set up a retaining wall around her lunch and shot warning glances at me and Brian as we peered over to try and fish out a triangle of quesadilla for Jackson. Clearly, she’s a growing girl (very close to 4 feet tall at last check), and would no longer stand for us giving away her lunch. Brian managed to bargain with her and trade one of his quesadilla triangles for one of hers, but apparently Jackson has also decided to eat. So, after polishing off his allotted part of Riley’s lunch, he ate one of Brian’s other quesadilla triangles, then came and sat in my lap for more. He was a little put off by the hot sauce I’d liberally sprinkled over my entire meal, but not entirely.
After everyone was fed, we ran to Target. We had a birthday party later, and needed a present. And honestly, I was looking forward to checking out their jog bra and running skirt collection, but was planning to do this while enroute to the toy aisle. Brian was going to stay in the car with Jackson, so no one would be the wiser (except Riley... who is quickly catching on to my tactics. After about 30 seconds of me rifling through the athletic wear, she was complaining about being cold and burrowing into the racks of clothing in an attempt to stay warm). I was midway through the shelves of bras (they’re very soft and quite cheap) when I heard a familiar shrieking coming from the front of the store. Sure enough, sprinting down the main aisle was Jackson with Brian close behind. Jackson was wet and required a trip to the potty.
I tried to look innocent and explain “oh, ah, we were JUST on our way to the toy aisle...”
Then reluctantly, with the rest of the family, I trudged along to buy what we actually came there for.
About 15 minutes and 2 or 3 time outs (for Jackson) later, we were making our way to the checkout, when I realized Jackson had pooped.
Great.
Brian finished up the checking out with Riley while I headed out to the car with Jax.
I couldn’t help but wonder what I would do with the poo that is usually rolling freely around in his underwear, so I veered into the restroom, thinking I could just dump the contents and then head to the car for the cleanup.
Yeah. Uh, no.
This turned into a very loud and very messy bathroom trip. At one point I had just stripped Jackson down naked (poo was on the shorts, too, and I was trying to spare the shirt... I couldn’t help but wonder if I could just safety pin it together between his legs and pretend it was a onesie... but soon realized I had no safety pins.) and was trying to dunk the crotch of his underwear in the toilet to get the adherent poo to release (rinsing them in the sink just seemed somehow unethical), while Jackson bounced off the walls of the stall like a pinball and shrieked as shrilly and loudly as possible. We had used all the paper towels, and so I was left with only toilet paper to wrap the now soggy underwear in so that I could transport it to the car. People kept coming into the bathroom and either turning right around and exiting immediately or lurking outside the handicap stall we had taken up residence in to try and figure out what sort of child abuse was taking place to result in THAT NOISE being emmitted by a sweet curly haired angelic cherub... while I threat-whispered “Jackson, stop that right now, I mean it, no sir, get back here”
Somehow I got him reasonably clean (ish) and we reconveened to the car, where I spread a towel out on the front seat and stripped him naked again, wiped every surface of his body down with an abundance of baby wipes, pulled on a fresh pair of underwear (when you’re 2, that’s the only piece of clothing that’s truly mandatory) and buckled him back into his car seat. Just in time for Riley and Brian to wander up and Riley to exclaim “Mommy, what happened?”
We all piled back into the cars (oh, we were in 2 cars because we were dropping the Jeep off at the shop), and the kids promptly fell asleep and slept all the way home. We even managed to transfer them both to their beds without successfully waking them up.....
.... and allowed them a short nap before waking Riley up for a neighbor’s birthday party. She groggily stumbled out the door with Brian and the hastily wrapped present, while I waited for Jackson to wake up.
I gave him 45 minutes more, and then drug him out of bed with promises of cake and we trekked down the street to the birthday party. (all the while, and for the next hour or so, Jackson kept screaming “CAKE? CAKE?” Note to self... careful what you use as a lure...)
So, after consuming capri suns (although Jackson did his best to talk me out of my Appletini, but I held fast on that one), birthday cake, pinata candy, and ice pops (they consumed a month’s worth of high fructose corn syrup and artificial flavor in about 2 hours) we staggered home for baths and bed.
Oh, and those of you (Jenny and Judy) who are reading this, and thinking to yourself “Oh my, I agreed to help with THAT? I wonder if it’s too late to come up with a plausible medical emergency/fear of flying?” YES! IT’S TOO LATE! But welcome! You get numb to the chaos after a while.

The Rocketship

Jackson loves this rocket ship. He’s very clear about it being a rocket SHIP, different from just the plain rockets. And, by the way, just about anything can be a rocket, from a fork at a restaurant to the squishy fish in the bathtub to a pool torpedo. He’ll grab it, plunk it down on any available surface (Riley is particularly distressed when this happens to be her head) and shout “TWI, TOO, PAN... BLASTOFF!”
He does spend a good part of the day on the rocketship, and is remarkably fast on it. the front wheels don’t turn, but he’s got the skid-turn perfected. And as seen above, he also loves to ride it naked. After going potty, he bolts for the rocketship and shoots away, giggling manaically.
He also loves to ram into things with the nose of it - the wall, the door, the kitchen cabinets, Riley, Skoshi. It’s actually one of his most frequent infractions these days. Usually it lands the rocketship in time out. Never fails, I come home from work greeted by the standard “MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY!..... ROCKETSHIP MIMEOUT!” accompanied by a pouty and downcast look as he gestures to the kitchen table, upon which the rocketship has been confined.

How NOT to entertain your 2 year old.

Friday, July 4, 2008

So on Friday, the 4th of July I got up at 5am so I would be ready when Kristen and Joe came to pick me up. We were driving Pensacola for a 5K. Brian couldn't help but wonder why we had to drive all the way to Pensacola... for just a 5K. I reaplied... "uh, I dunno" Anyway, it was a good little run, Kristen and I took 2nd and 3rd in our age group, then we did a couple of extra miles and headed home.

Once we got back, I just had them drop me at the marina, where Brian and Riley were going to go boating and tubing with some friends, and I was commandeering Jackson for a quiet morning at home. This took some convincing on my part. Jackson was quite perplexed that Dad and Riley were getting on the boat, while he was staying behind. So, I promised him he could watch Mickey Mouse, and we headed for home.

There's only so much Mickey I can take, and eventually, I got bored and ventured out to clean my car (for those of you that know me well... STOP THAT SNIDE LOOK OF SURPRISE!) We're at the end of blueberry season, and there's a sufficiently large number of them that have accumulated on the floorboards and under the car seats (where they are keeping the fuzzy raisins and apple slices company) that I've begun to be dismayed by them. Jackson came out with me, and I rolled down all the windows and started working. This lasted not very long at all, as I soon realized it was far too big a job for the driveway. So, I buckled Jackson in - wearing only a t-shirt and mickey mouse underwear, and headed for the 4$ car wash - with free vacuums.

I figured they might have an issue with me bypassing the 4$ part and simply utilizing the free vacuums, so I played along and actually washed the car, too. Had to roll up the windows for that, though... and turn up "The Sound of Music" to keep Jackson from freaking out when the large bubbly squidlike creatures descended upon the car and totally blocked out the light. He did relatively well, although it clearly made him nervous. (and "The Sound of Music" did help a bit... maybe that was what Captain Nemo should have tried first.)

Once we made it to the vacuums, I left Jackson in his car seat and tackled the fuzzy bluberries (there was also a dizzying quantity of sand, but I suppose that's to be expected in Florida). After completing as much of the car as I could, I reluctantly let Jackson out of his car seat so that I could remove it and thereby the copious fermented snack food he has stashed under it. There was a grassy area nearby, and I thought it would be perfect for Jackson to play in while I finished up. Well, that lasted about 30 seconds - then Jackson decided the parked cars were much more fun to meander between, so I threw him in the front seat while I tackled the back. He loves the car. There's so many buttons and lights, and he punctuates the punching of buttons with shrieks of "VROOM VROOM" while at the steering wheel. I finally finished up the vacuuming, and closed up my side of the car so that I could retrieve Jackson's car seat from the grass and get on our way.

It was then that I heard an oh-so-ominous "click-click".

Yup, you know EXACTLY the "click-click" that I mean. The one that occurs as all the car doors are locked by your 2 year old who is still sitting in the car with both sets of keys (I'd just found one of them while cleaning the car) and my cell phone.

Did I mention that this was the 4th of July in FLORIDA! It was only about 83 degrees, the windows are tinted, I had parked under an awning, and left the fan (but not the engine) running. I had a little time to work with. Unfortunately, I think I squandered a good 5 minutes of it yelling "Jackson, press the button! Yes! That one! No! The other one! There! No , over there" While Jackson giggled and bounced about, singing along to "Climb Every Mountain".

I eventually realized he was not going to press the right one, and went to find the car wash attendant.

"My 2 year old is locked in the car. Could you please call a locksmith?"

"Uh, I don't know. Which one?"

Let me rephrase "My 2 year old is locked in the car. Could you please call a locksmith?"

"Uhm, I need to talk to my manager"

No, really, My 2 year old is locked in the car. Call a locksmith, any locksmith"

At which point I ran back to the car to supervise Jackson playing "Vroom Vroom" at the steering wheel.

The manager showed up, and said that the locksmith was on his way, and would be there in about 20 minutes. He'd also called the police, who don't do locked cars, but had suggested calling the fire department. We did that.

Then everyone went absolutely nuts. Suddently it became and emergency to get Jackson out NOW. The manager offered a sledge hammer to break a window, I demurred. It was implied that even though it would be expensive, maybe I should break out a window. No one seemed to realize that it wasn't the expense, it was the thought of showering my 2 year old with shards of glass while he's in an enclosed space. After much hand wringing, I called Brian to see if he had any other ideas... and mostly just to hear a calm voice and forewarn him that the car might be one window short when he arrived home. He seemed okay with the plan, so I reluctantly had the manager bring his sledgehammer. Turns out that those windows don't break as easily as you think they would. After my second hit (albeit probably a little half-heartedly) I was very relieved to hear and see the firetruck pull up. Yay! Surely they have one of those slim-jim thing-a-ma-bobs. The entire 5 man crew jumped out and swaggered towards my car.... one of them toting a medieval appearing mace-like hammer (and in my memory he was repetitively swinging it into his palm while eyeing my car windows with a lusty glint in his eye, but I suspect I'm making that part up). Meanwhile, Jackson is contentedly removing and reloading every CD in the disc-changer.

"Which window do you want me to break open, Ma'am?"

"Ah, preferably the one FURTHEST FROM THE 2 YEAR OLD!"

Then he singled out a back window and went to take a swing.... and Jackson decided to check out all the commotion in the back seat.

"WAIT! WAIT!" I shriek, and really start to rethink this shattering glass thing. The manager informs me that the locksmith is 1 minute away. The guy with the sledge hammer drawls "Well, it's YOUR call Ma'am, BUT HE SURE LOOKS HOT."

And he did look hot, he was very sweaty and PLAYING PEEK-A-BOO - no distress in sight.

Finally, one of the older Firefighters commented "Ma'am, he looks FINE. It's okay to wait for the locksmith"

The locksmith finally arrived (actually, 2 arrived), and as they were opening the car I couldn't help but notice about 30 people were standing around - including a police man and his police car, the 5 from the fire truck, and then 3 from the Ambulance.

When the locksmith got the car open, one of the firefighters lifted Jackson out and handed him to me. He was hot. He was also very intrigued by all the vehicles surrounding ours. We re-convened to the car wash office, where I plopped Jackson in the office chair and peeled of his sweaty shirt (and I suspect his pants were wet with more than sweat... mostly because shortly after he locked himself in the car he was holding the front of his pants and shouting "potty! potty!" But I didn't feel the need to share this suspicion). They got him some water from the cooler and looked him over (quite literally, I was hoping they'd at least take his temperature, but Jackson was way too interested in the "bloop bloop" noise that the water cooler made after dispensing water to sit still. Then I had to give them our names for their report...

"Gwinnup? That sounds familiar... Hey! Aren't you a pediatrician or something?"

"Well, no, actually, I'm Family Medicine... my clinic is just down the street... " I mumbled

So we're all fine. Although it took me a while to recover. Jackson had a grand time. And the locksmith refused to charge me anything. I got his card, though. I really need to send him a check.