It snowed on the fourth day of vacation, so we bundled our little bundle into all her snow clothes. We planned to drag her, by sled, about a mile round trip to check out a new
And then it was over.
The horizontal blow of snow froze her cheeks and landed in her eyes. She put her hands up and said "Out. Out. Out" which actually means "Up. Up. Up." So I picked her up and carried her back to our house, where she kicked along on the sidewalk and watched Chuck shovel until she finally just said "House."
The Girl ate a fruit bar, a newton-style treat that crumbled, caked and dried around her lips and made her mouth smell like blueberry-flavored cardboard.
This is how she approached me for a sip from my water bottle, which requires putting the mouthpiece into her crumb-coated mouth and chewing to open the water hole. Wet crumbs stuck to the straw and she cackled with disgusting glee. I almost barfed.
Sometimes when I'm on the elliptical, I imagine that I'm being interviewed about how I became such a fantastic runner of 5Ks. This has toned down exponentially from even just a few years ago when I still imagined there was a spot in the Olympics for me, if only I could really focus on my training.
My answer goes something like this: "Actually, I have to thank Julianna Margulies, who is Alicia Florrick on 'The Good Wife.' There is something about that show that makes it possible for me to easily annihilate like upward of 7,000 steps."
On this day, I watched an episode, plus the first 10 minutes of the followup and afterward imagined all the super heavy things I could throw and kick with these massively powerful muscles I'm building.
(Then I ate my weight in guacamole.)
The movie "Horns" is like, literally, the worst. It is impossible to consider the Harry Potter kid as anything tough or quasi demonic. There are points of the movie where his voice wrinkles in a pubescent way. Plus, I kept accurately predicting what was going to happen, which either means:
A) They were telegraphing;
B) I should be writing movies;
C) No one should watch movies with me;
D) All of the above.
On the fifth day of vacation, I challenged Brother Pista to a Step-Off. And then, as I realized he either didn't notice, or didn't seem to care, my internal interview sputtered and became less relevant.
Q: What exactly did it take to get 16,000-plus steps today?
A: We went to the mall to look for a magnetic nose ring, but instead ended up doing a couple laps of the perimeter. We parked far from the door at Target. I went to the YMCA and purposefully parked on the sixth floor of the parking ramp and took the stairs both up and down. I ran 4 miles. I did every chore at our house that involved going to the basement or going upstairs or, in the best cases, both.
Unfortunately, if no one feels the burn of your victory, does it even matter?
We ate tortellini for lunch and I sprinkled mine with red pepper flakes. This, I guess, makes me a thrill seeker.
"If she could, your mom would ride a roller coaster to work," Chuck told The Girl.
The Girl is watching a show for babies in which a unicorn paints all these mundane objects like houses and airplanes. We all slip into a trance and are unable to leave the house to go to dinner, like we had planned. No, instead we get a frozen pizza and veggie chips.
Some people consider it a point of honor to never lie to their kids.
I think of this when The Girl points to my veggie chips and asks for one and I tell her they're "too hot."
"Is that bad I just did that?" I ask Chuck.
"I'm just trying to figure out when that's going to backfire on us," he said.
Rookie error: While putting The Girl to bed she says to me "Dada."
"He's downstairs, Bug. Watching TV," I say and then exclamation points shoot out of my ears.
WHY DID I SAY THAT! DUMBASS.
She chants "TeeTee" (TV) as I lift her into her crib. Then she starts crying, points at the door longingly and indicates that what her dad is doing sounds preferable to what she is being asked to do.
And so I clicked reset on The Bedtime Ritual, starting from the beginning again.
The sixth day of vacation started most shittily. I woke to an email from Wells Fargo telling me that it had taken money from my savings count to cover an overdraft. I monitor my checking account regularly and know that the last time I looked, yesterday, I was nowhere near draining my entire checking account. Overdraft? Not in eons.
Turns out there was an error regarding a large-for-me cash deposit I'd made a week and a half ago -- so they just erased that amount from my checking account. Easy peasy for them; A huge hit for me.
I spent 45 minutes on the phone with 4 different people (once I was hung up on) and now they are investigating it. They've returned the money to my account, but they're calling it a "credit." And they didn't replace the stuff that was in my savings account so I have Owl Panic.
(Plus, now I'm afraid to spend any money for fear that they'll decide to take it all away again.)
On the way to Baby School, my Check Tire Pressure light came on and I kept imagining that tire commercial that stars a baby sitting in a tire and the slogan "You've got a lot riding on your tires." It had never made sense to me on this level.
The tires *looked* fine, but I stuck to residential roads instead of the highway.
When I got home from baby school, I noticed that my FitBit hadn't logged a single step since 11:11 p.m. Wednesday night -- after I'd handily beaten Brother Pista in a Step Off (in case you forgot).
I reset it like three times and eventually got into an online chat with customer service.
I took a sip from my water bottle, and the mouthpiece tasted like Kitty Litter.
It seemed like maybe I've been cursed, so I put the girl down for a nap and then laid down.
I woke to an email telling me that a new FitBit is en route, so my luck is changing. Five to seven business days, they say.