Concertgoer

Back in mid-November I was perusing the local free newspaper when I discovered a full-page ad for a John Mayer concert coming in February. Tickets were going on sale the next day. I have a little thing for that guy and his music. Those early songs still captivate me. Plus, he's sort of easy on the eyes, you know?

So I mentioned it to a co-worker, and then I quickly did the math. By early February, I would be 8 months pregnant. A rock concert might not be the best place for me. Still, I was pretty pumped about the idea of going.

I have a friend through work who moonlights in event security - you know, one of those guys in yellow shirts at concerts and sporting events that keeps the rest of us from rushing the stage or the field - and he told me that an 8-month pregnant woman would be perfectly entitled to sitting in "disabled" seating, which has very easy access to the exits and restrooms. Sounded pretty good to me! Still, I didn't actually went to purchase the tickets. But I was daydreaming about it. I'm just far too boring to do stuff like buy concert tickets anymore.

Later I mentioned it to Brian, who thought it sounded like fun, but it was one of those conversations that kind of went "Hmm. Sounds like fun." You know, where you're pretty sure the other person wasn't paying much attention. So I went back to daydreaming.

Fast forward to Christmas morning. Brian had me open my present from him first, which turned out to be a lovely black purse. I totally needed a new purse but hadn't even thought of buying one for ages. So I thanked him for it, and set it aside, and that's when Brian said, "You might want to look inside it." Inside the purse was a gorgeous pair of earrings, and a pair of tickets to the concert. I teared up immediately in front of my whole family.

Brian said I could make it a girl's night out if I wanted, so I asked our Amazing Babysitter if she wanted to go. Being female, she said heck yeah. We made plans to do the Happy Hour at the upscale bar across the street from the arena, and then go to the concert afterwards.

I work close to the arena, so we were able to just walk 2 blocks to the bar and then to the show. Very easy for Preggo, and safe for late at night, too! Then, to top it off, during the opening act, my friend who works security showed up at our seats and gave me an advance copy of the set list for John's show. So we knew ahead of time what he would be playing - that was so darn cool.

Wow. Just - WOW. Turned out to be an amazing concert. We had front row seats in the balcony, with a perfect view of the whole arena. We never had to stand up except to give him a standing ovation at the end, and we had very reasonable people sitting all around us who calmly enjoyed the show as well. (Except for one looney tunes girl who screamed through all of one of John's solos, but security took good care of her.)

Here was our view of Mr. Mayer himself:

And here are 2 very happy concertgoers:

What a husband I have - he paid to let me go ogle another man all evening! I mean, enjoy some great music and a super fun night out. I haven't done that in forever, and it was wonderful to have him treat me to a great night out with our Amazing Babysitter. I will remember this concert for a lifetime. Thank you, honey!

Wedding Day

One of Helen's daycare teachers and sometime babysitter got married, and invited us to the wedding.   Brian had to attend a football cookout at his boss's house, so it was just us.   A girls' night out! 

Okay, so not really.  And you might ask what would possess a woman with a 3-year old and a 2-month old to pack up the kids and drive 45 minutes across town to a wedding that takes place an hour before dinner time.

You can ask. You won't get a response that makes any sense, other than "I hadn't worn my favorite little black dress in a *really* long time, okay?"

I spent the day thinking about timing and what I would need while I was away from the house.  When you nurse a baby, everything you do in a day comes down to a simple equation:  

Travel time (A) + last feeding time (B) = when is the next feeding? (C)  

where A = 45 and B = ...

oh, screw it, we all know C = NOW

So traveling that far with a baby who could be hungry upon arrival meant "BE PREPARED" or possibly "DANGER WILL ROBINSON."  Factoring in Helen's naptime prior to leaving and preparing everyone to get out of the house in wedding finery - well, I'm sure it didn't take this much work to get to troops to Iraq. 

The wedding itself was picture perfect. The bridesmaids were dressed in black satin strapless sheaths, with a fushia sash around their waists. They carried gorgeous white rose bouquets, and all of them looked like a million bucks. The bride wore a bright white strapless dress with plenty of tulle and sparkling sequins, and carried a bright pink bouquet of roses. The groom and his groomsmen wore black suits with black shirts. The groom's tie was white, and the groomsmen wore fuschia ties. Sort of a late 70's mafia look, which I'll admit is difficult for guys from the deep South to pull off with any degree of success.

The bride had not been over to babysit for us in quite some time, but Helen remembered her right away. She was the model child during the wedding - finding a pencil and something to write on, she busied herself with scribbling a few things for me. Fortunately, Alice took a short nap with a good pacifier, so we didn't have a single squawk out of either of them. And it was one of those quick Protestant ceremonies - no sermon, even - so we were out in about 12 minutes.

I should have known that would be the easy part.

The reception was at a nearby country club, which had a back patio set up on a hillside that overlooked a gorgeous mountain scene. The sun was about an 30 minutes away from setting when I got this great picture of Helen.


Shortly after this was taken, Alice decided to scream in agony about gas pains for nearly 30 minutes. This has happened before, and there's nothing I can do except give her a little bit of gas medicine and pat her back. Eventually she burps, but it can take a while. I felt horrible after about 2 minutes on the patio with all the wedding guests trying to enjoy the gorgeous view, and here was a screaming baby out there with them, so we ended up in the parking lot, with me in the car trying to soothe her and Helen running around picking flowers. I was inches away from giving up and going home when Alice finally burped. So we settled down, and I gave her a little dinner bottle, and that's when the bride & groom pulled up in their getaway vehicle.

Oh, how I wanted to get in behind the driver's seat and take off.  

Helen was all about the dancing at the reception. In fact, she was the only one who danced most of the evening. She also spent quite a bit of time chatting up the DJ.  I believe at one point she mentioned that her daddy knows all of the songs to the Lion King.  To his credit, he was the soul of patience and acted interested in everything she wanted to tell him.  He did, however, ask me to let him know when I was ready for the Chicken Dance.  I'm not sure if that was an insult or if he was serious, but I told him that I would NEVER be ready for the Chicken Dance.  Hopefully he got the message and sent it to other wedding DJs.  I'm here for you, people.  

Here, Helen shakes her groove thang.

I don't know where they got their cake, but it was amazing. Very heavy and moist.  Here, Helen contemplates the mystery of delicious, sugary frosting.

I didn't get any pictures of me in that little black dress, though.  Probably a good thing.

Put those dreams on hold

If you didn't know, this weekend was the NFL Draft.  Brian watched diligently for several hours on Saturday and Sunday, commenting occasionally on the prospects of our local team.  Sunday evening he got a call from our Navy friend W.

Brian:  Once again, nobody called me up for the draft.  

W:  And you waited by the phone all weekend.

Brian:  I'm firing my agent.

Cruisin', on a Sunday afternoon

Brian and I had been talking with some friends in New Orleans about joining their group of friends for a cruise to Mexico.  Brian & I have never been on a cruise, and honestly, we were a little nervous.  It seemed like spending a lot of money to sail around with 2000 people we didn't know, and would we like it?  Opinions varied widely, especially when I looked at the internet.  His parents are big fans of cruises, and they talked us over the Cliffs of Indecision by volunteering to keep Helen for us.  So in December, we booked our 5-day vacation for the end of February.

This, by the way, is the first vacation we had from Helen since we went to Montreal in 2006.  So, needless to say, we were a little excited about getting freed from the shackles of parenthood.

And then, that pesky little ultrasound.  I sure know how to make my side of a trip to Mexico really, really cheap.

Anyhoo, in February, we headed down to New Orleans and discovered that the group we joined up with contained 15 born & bred natives of the Crescent City.  So, even if I could drink, I wouldn't have been able to keep up on my best day - and for those of you who can say "I knew her when" - that includes my 29th birthday.

(Don't ask, "Which one?"  I mean, the FIRST one.)  

Yeah, those guys were hard-core!  

But we had a great time on the cruise, and we shouldn't have worried about it for a second.  Yes, they do charge extra for drinks (including sodas) but after a while, all thoughts of "extra spending" melted into the background.  There was plenty to do and see, and we enjoyed meeting all the new people.

I especially enjoyed my afternoon naps.  It was so nice to have an 8 pm seating for dinner, because I could head back to the room and take a siesta before getting ready to eat.  Our crowd was seated each night at 3 tables close together.  We ended up sorting out with one table full of married folks (us), another table full of either newlyweds or more settled singles, and a third table of the wild single crowd.

The second night on the ship was Formal Night.  We all got gussied up and as we were enjoying the appetizer course, I heard someone making that jangling noise of the silverware against a wine glass.  Turns out it was a young man from the wild singles table.  Once he had the attention of several tables around us, he stood up, then got down on one knee and offered a ring to a girl at the table.

We, of course, all knew that it was fake.  But the rest of the night, people kept stopping by their table to say congratulations to the "happy couple."  The married folks at our table dreamed up a pretty fantastic breakup scene for later in the week (i.e., another girl tossing a drink in his face and shouting, "I can't believe you're marrying that whore!"), but it never happened.  I guess on a cruise vacation, you have time to dream up the wild scenarios, and plenty of friends to help you carry it out.

Our cruise included 2 days in port, one in Cozumel and one in Progresso.  We ended up spending both days at the beach with most of the crowd.  I got a little bit of sun, even.  It was very warm and very relaxing, and I really enjoyed getting to know all these new people.  Also, butchering the Spanish language by ordering food & drinks.

The last day in port, we all got back on the ship late afternoon, and as we pulled out to sea to go back to New Orleans, I noticed the wind picked up quite a lot.  The water was pretty choppy, even though had been very calm all day.  Not having been on a cruise before, I was surprised to feel the boat moving occasionally, and instead of making me sick, it made me very nervous.  I wanted that boat to STOP. ROCKING. ALREADY.  And normally, it didn't last very long, or if I moved to a different part of the ship, I couldn't feel it.

However, sometime that night, we sailed right into a large storm front.  I woke up around 5 am to feel the boat rocking tremendously.  Finally I got up to look out the window and saw nothing but huge waves with white caps.

The captain came on over the loudspeaker a few hours later to tell us that we had sailed overnight through 14-15 foot waves, and currently we were in 10-foot waves.  He said the storm front stretched across the Gulf, and he had no choice but to go through it.  The weather was pretty miserable on deck (60 degrees, very high winds), but he expected that it would calm down after lunch.

Later that morning we went to get some food.  I had a lot of trouble walking a straight line down the hall, and there were little sickness bags stuffed into the railings every few feet.  And after lunch, there were tons of room service trays lining the halls.  I don't think many people on the ship left their rooms.  It was pretty miserable, and although I wasn't sick, I was definitely freaking out.

I found out that back at our house, they had snow, and directly south, big tornados at my parents' house.  So, it was a pretty big storm system, and I'm glad we all came through with no trouble.

Helen and Brian's parents were waiting for us at the airport.  She had been a great little girl for them all week, and I was so proud to hear that they had a wonderful time playing with her.  She only asked about us a couple of times, and finally her Nana told her that we were on a big boat.  But since they were getting her two Happy Meals at a time (we must have TWO toys, after all), I don't think she had a problem with us being gone.  

Seeing her at the airport was the best thing - I realized how much I missed that little girl, and I was so happy to give her a big hug.  After her grandparents left the next day, she spent the next couple of weeks saying, "Mom, thank you for getting off the boat."

No problem, sweetie - no problem at all.

What a Treat

Halloween night was a lot of fun this year, mainly because I'm able to explain things to Helen ahead of time and she'll remember it later. I had taken some time last weekend to mention how Halloween worked, so Helen had been expecting to go trick or treating for a few days. She woke up that morning, very sleepy as I got her dressed, and mumbled, "wanna go twicker tweat."

That night I raced home from work and we got ready to have a little bit of company - the Amazing Babysitter and her Still-Smells-Like-New-Car-Husband were coming over to check out the festivities. They brought their two giant German shepherds, who were both wearing skunk costumes. ADORABLE.



I put Helen in her outfit - previously mentioned here as the Hello Kitty Butterfly costume - and then proceeded to get into my costume for the annual photo shoot.



Some of you may have caught the brief Wonder Woman rant last month. So it shouldn't come as too much of a shock to see me in the costume. What might be a little shocking is learning that costume is homemade. Everything except the boots and the lasso were put together with the assistance of my mother, a sewing machine, needle, thread, and serious ironing skills. Even my little sister got in a few stitches on the skirt. I found a lot of tips online from people who had made their own Wonder Woman costume, and was inspired to do it myself. Fortunately I was able to set aside some time on a couple of weekends to get supplies and had a very willing mother help to put it all together.

I am so proud of how the outfit turned out. I have pictures of the process, and I'll compose a post about later this month. But in the meantime, let's think about this: how many people my age can honestly say, "My mom helped me make my Halloween costume this year"? Raise your hands. Higher, folks. I need to get a good count here. Anyone?

Helen had a ball with the tour of the neighborhood this year. But it took 4 houses for her to actually speak up and say "Trick or Treat." Usually when I prompted her with, "Helen, what do you say?" she would respond with "Thank you!" And really, when an adult hands you a giant bowl of candy and lets you pick whatever you want, sometimes as many as FOUR pieces, you can't go wrong with a "Thank you."

Now, if she could just remember to grab the chocolate instead of the Root Beer Dum-Dums, her parents would be thrilled. Girlfriend LOADED UP on the lollipops this year. I don't know what it is about her and lollipops, but it's a little disturbing. Given a choice of anything on a stick and everything else with sugar in it, she goes for the stick every time. Here we have the post-Halloween wrap-up picture, where Helen has one lollipop in her mouth, and is trying to unwrap a second one. Life is tough.



She finally passed out around 9 pm, about an hour later than usual, after bouncing off every single wall in the house from all the sugar. Hope everyone had a great holiday, and that each of you got all the Dum-Dums you wanted, too.

So you want to learn to golf ...

Last month Brian played in a charity golf tournament for a cause near & dear to his heart: a summer camp where he worked for several summers, and made friends that will last a lifetime. (Or until his liver gives out, I forget which it is.)

Anyway, a few weeks prior to the tournament, Brian started shopping thrift stores for the perfect pants to turn into the classic golf knickers. He even got some pants for the guys in his foursome. Then he got out a needle & thread to make the necessary hem. Boy, he was proud of that hem work. I think the zippers will fall out before the hems do.

He searched for sweater vests, and he also found a website that sells the entire outfit, including the all-important argyle socks. He snagged a deal on several pairs, and apparently their group was quite a hit for the traditional foursome pictures.

Our Navy friend W. came into town for the weekend to stay with us. I happened to be at home when they stumbled in after a long, hot day on the links. The sweater vests were gone, but I think the fashion statement still comes through, loud and clear.

You call it WHAT?

Longtime friends of mine who have been to the beach with us will not be surprised to learn we are now the proud owners of a Deluxe Cornhole Set.

Essentially, a Cornhole set requires two large slabs of wood, propped up at a slight angle, with a hole cut out of each board. It also requires a set of 8 beanbags - four per team. You set the boards several yards apart from each other, and each team of two people takes turns throwing the bags at the board, attempting to land them in the hole, or at least on the board.





Like croquet, you're allowed to knock someone's bag off the board. This kind of move is not looked upon with kindness by your opposing teammates, but is sure to garner appreciative noises from the crowd assembled to watch. Plus, it improves your score. So if you can manage a throw that takes out your opponent, you definitely go for it.

By the way, the name of the game comes from the small bags tossed during the game, which are usually filled with corn kernels. If you're uncomfortable with the name, just replace it with the word "beanbag,' and you've got the gist of it.

My father, who was very uncomfortable with the name, is the creator of our set. I call it Deluxe because he takes his time cranking out even a simple wood project like this one. He is not your average carpenter, but instead excels at providing his daughters with beautiful (and free) furniture they'll treasure for a lifetime. He made the set for us as a way to break back into his woodworking habit. He has spent several years working out of state, coming home on a few spare weekends. But since April, he's finally back at home, and he used some of his newfound free time in his shop, crafting a game which is sturdy enough to survive the roughest blast of the corn-filled bags.

So, I also call this the Heirloom Cornhole Set. One day, Helen's kids will be taking a hammer to it, I tell you. "But I don't WANT that old game! No one plays cornhole anymore," they'll whine. And Helen will say, "Your great-grandpa wanted you to have it. That's why he put eight coats of varnish on it."

My father customized it with special signs from Brian's dear old alma mater. We played in our backyard at a recent cookout with friends. It was such a hit, we were asked to drag it over to Brian's brother's house for their 4th of July party. When we arrived, they had set up a bracket for couples to play each other, tournament-style. We got through the second round, and the championship game was called on account of darkness, but I expect a rematch just as soon as Brian's brother can install an extra spotlight in the backyard. At his wife's request, of course.

Helen's favorite part of the game is running back & forth to whoever is throwing the bags. Naturally, this means she's in the way of the game during at least every other throw. At the 4th of July party, there were 10 kids, and some of them caught on to Helen's trick. Others thought it was their job to pick up the bags that were thrown toward the board - even ones that had scored by landing on the board. So we had a very tough time keeping the kids corraled throughout the evening's games. Nevertheless, everybody had a great time.







By the way, Brian's brother isn't the only one with extra housework looming ahead next weekend. Dad, I've got several orders you need to fill soon:

Two Tennessee sets
One Oklahoma State set
One kid-sized set (maybe Lightning McQueen vs. Towmater?) to keep the kids busy

Helen Goes to Camp

Brian and a few of his friends worked for several summers at a camp near our house. Now, every summer, one of his friends shows up from out of town to stay with us and drop his own daughters off at camp.

The first year they did this was about two weeks after Helen was born. The entire family stayed with us in what had quickly become a very cramped apartment, with new baby stuff piled everywhere. We had just bought a house and were getting ready to close on it and move at the end of the month. I remember spending the weekend worried about Helen making too much noise at night, and that our guests wouldn't get any sleep. The girls were pretty young - 9 years and 5 years old. Their mother spend most of the time shooing them away from the baby. No touching, no breathing, get away from the baby.

This year, I considered letting the kids babysit her while we went out at night. My, how things change.

Since their parents are out of state, they can't be here for visitation day. So last Sunday, I showed up with Helen at camp to see the girls. Checking in with the camp director, I learned that I could NOT drop Helen off in the youngest kids' cabin that day. I had packed her trunk already, so that was kind of disappointing.

I headed down to their cabins and met the oldest daughter on the way. She was so excited to see Helen. I heard all about the horses and archery, and she showed me where we could go to get our faces painted and have a piece of watermelon.

We found the youngest daughter in her cabin. I was sad to hear that she missed her mom a lot. This was her first time at camp, and she was having fun, but she had already decided not to come back next year. (And we'll see if that attitude changes by next summer, eh?) But there was a real casualty of homesickness in the cabin - parents were picking up another girl to take her back home.

I cannot imagine homesickness because I never experienced it. I spent eight summers going to camp, and the only time I cried was when my parents took me home. I loved it so much, I never wanted to leave! Brian enjoyed his time working at camp as well, and we've already decided Helen will go there when she's old enough. But now I've realized that it's our job to give her a few skills to carry her through a short summer session away from mom and dad. Things like making friends and dealing with new situations and enjoying new traditions - it's something that I think came pretty naturally to Brian and I, but maybe KIDS THESE DAYS just can't handle even a week away from the good life at home. Maybe if I spend the spring feeding her boiled ham and cabbage, she'll run to camp on her own.

Helen spent the afternoon running around or playing with rocks, eating rocks and getting her face painted. I don't think we'll have much trouble getting her to stay.

Introducing Mrs. Amazing Babysitter

Saturday night was Amazing Babysitter's wedding. I had set up an Alternate Babysitter weeks ago, but last week she called to say her boyfriend surprised her with a trip out of town for that weekend. She had lined up Alternate #2 for me, which I thought was very kind.

The problem was, Alternate #2 never showed up. Not sure if there was a miscommunication or what, but I was all dressed and ready to go and 20 minutes past the time we had agreed on, she still wasn't there.

I threw a dress on Helen and put her in the car. She could sit through an hour long Wedding Mass, right?

HA!!!!!

Brian & I traded between staying with Helen outside and watching the service. So, when the bride & groom's getaway vehicle arrived, Helen and I got to enjoy it first:





Can you see Helen's reflection in the grill?



On the way to the reception, we asked Helen if she wanted to go to a party. Her reaction: "YEAH! I want party!!" It was bedtime, but she was still going strong. At the reception, AB & Helen got a chance to catch up:



Helen danced more than most of the guests. I couldn't keep her off the dance floor. She had a ball running around the floor, without her shoes, and bobbing her head to the music. And then one minute, she was dancing, and the next minute she sort of stumbled, and I picked her up, and her eyes slammed shut.



The bride and groom head off for their two-week honeymoon cruise around the Mediterranean later this week. Yes, we're all insanely jealous. I know they'll have a great time, and we're so happy for them. Congratulations, you two!

Washed Up

There's been a delay in posting beach pictures because we left the laptop in Florida. We always make a check of the rooms before we head out, but this bag must have been hiding very well. Perhaps it watched me take over a hundred pictures that weekend and decided that it needed a vacation. I'm not sure. Fortunately we noticed it was missing before the housekeeping staff had a chance to put it up on eBay, so it arrived back home today. First order of business was to load up pictures and post them all for you.

Helen had a LOVELY time at the beach. We got there around lunchtime on Friday, and immediately took all of our stuff to basecamp. Aunt C. headed down to the beach with Helen, but Helen was a little dismayed by the water and the waves.





She spent a few hours avoiding the water at all costs:







But she especially enjoyed it when her mommy left the beach chair for a minute to refresh her drink:



Our last day there, I went with another couple down to the beach for an evening photo session. I also got a chance to snap some good pictures of Helen, although by this point in the weekend, she was VERY tired of me taking her picture.





She crashed shortly after these pictures were taken, and my cousins will be pleased to know that I've shared the Cousin Trip Uno Rules with a brand-new group of converts. For those of you not in the know: if you play a 7, you have to switch hands with another player. If you play a 0, everyone at the table switches hands in the direction of play. (A word of warning: Cousin Trip Rules on a group our size means the game goes FOREVER.) But anyway, here is a picture of us playing, where D. is about to lay the smackdown on someone.

Beach Bummed

This weekend the Wyatts are packing up & heading to the Florida panhandle to spend some time getting crispy on the soft white sand, despite liberal applications of SPF 300. No, that's not a typo.

It's a regular trip for us with the same group of friends, and we do the beach well together. Normally it's 4 couples, but over the years, the group has grown. This time, we have 13 adults and 2 kids stuffed into 2 condos. It's our usual condo, across the street from the beach and a great restaurant.

We also have a regular local who handles our beach chair rentals. He looks like a cross between an old Malibu surfer and a fine set of leather luggage. George Hamilton would feel pale next to this guy.

It will be Helen's first trip to the beach. She was a mere week late for the last beach trip two years ago. I cannot wait to show her the beautiful shores of the Gulf of Mexico, where I spent all of my beach vacations as a kid. I'm crossing my fingers that she doesn't freak out and we don't end up at the pool instead.

But either way, I could really use a handy rip in the space-time continuum to get past the long drive with a toddler. I don't think there's enough Twizzlers in the world to get us there and back without a meltdown. From me.

Wish us luck - and I'll post pictures when we get back.

My Little Pony

On Saturday we went to the same community picnic where Helen took 1st runner up in the beauty pageant. No pageant this year - instead, we went with a friend of hers from daycare.

It was pretty advanced for a playdate. We had met at the mall once before on a weekend afternoon to let the kids run off some steam in a giant play area. These two are really great buddies and the daycare teachers have told me many times they have watched Helen holding hands with this little boy. His 2nd birthday was last month, and Helen still sings Happy Birthday to him at home.

The mom and I have been chatting at pickup and dropoff for months now, and the first playdate had gone so well, I followed up with the picnic invitation, which she eagerly accepted. I think she and I are trying to dance around the whole "making new friends" thing. As a married lady in my mid-30s with a kid, this is a lot harder than it looks. At first it was about the kids and the daycare, but we've ventured into talking about other things now, like work and family, and we're making plans for a get-together again soon.

The picnic was packed with booths for local vendors, animal rescue groups, and lots of political candidates. There were 4 stages for music and talent acts, and bouncy castles and climbing towers for the kids. They even had pony rides. It was $5 to put her on a horse and let her ride around in circles. I walked next to her, which made it hard to get pictures, but fortunately there were plenty of volunteers who snapped some photos of us.



Helen's friend from daycare did get on the pony but he lasted maybe two trips around the circle before he wanted off. Helen, on the other hand, wanted to ride TWICE. So I spent $10 on pony rides. She kept patting the horse's mane, and saying "Horsie? Good horsie!"

I think I know what she wants for Christmas.

We also went to the Children's Stage to see some of the musical acts. Saying this as someone who cannot carry a tune, that was actually quite painful to watch. Fortunately, Helen chose that moment to go completely nuts and try to take down the soundboard tent, so we moved on.

I think we were there for 3 hours, and Helen was completely exhausted when we got home. She crashed for a quick 90-minute nap. But I won't forget this moment for a long time, where Helen made every single parent standing in line for a pony ride laugh:

Woof woof woof woof woof!

Friday night Brian cooked ribs, and we invited a guest to join us for dinner: the Amazing Babysitter. Very soon she will be the Amazing Married Babysitter. So it was a good chance to relax and have fun before the wedding chaos descends.

Amazing Babysitter brought over her two babies: 3-year old German shepherds. Massive dogs - very tall, solid, and FRIENDLY. She had them on the leash at first, but took them off after a few minutes and they obeyed her instantly. Came when she called, didn't bark, and didn't get into any trouble.

Too bad I didn't get her to train Helen from the beginning!

Helen squealed with delight all evening. She was not the least bit scared of these dogs, who outweighed her by at least 50 pounds each. She patted them and barked at them and chased them everywhere. And she talked about the "puppy dogs" all weekend. Fortunately, they were good-natured, patient dogs who were so busy checking out the new backyard, they didn't even notice this little squealing child who kept patting them.

Presenting SCOUT and PATTON, the gorgeous German Shepherds:

Moving Up

Friends of ours were on TV this weekend! One of Brian's groomsmen from our wedding, along with his wife & son, appeared in an episode of TLC's "Moving Up."

The basic premise is that two couples buy new homes and spend 3 months with a film crew, renovating the houses. Then the former owners come back to see what you've done with the place. The viewings are all filmed so the new owners see what the old owners said.

Our friends run a business called Nashville Ghost Tours, and the show took the opportunity to let them run with a spooky theme in one of the rooms. This FREAKED OUT the former homeowners. They asked if our friends were Satan worshippers! Ha. (The answer is: only on weekends.)

In the meantime, the former owners of our friends' home are a pair of newlyweds, each with a child they brought into the marriage. They're finally getting their first place together, only to discover serious structural issues in the kitchen. Budget problems force some tough choices, and there doesn't appear to be a lot of good interaction between them during the show.

The scuttlebutt is that they were on the verge of divorce during the renovations. For anyone who's made some improvements to their own home, I'm sure you're familiar with the stress that kind of work can cause a marriage. The premiere of the show has been delayed for months, and then our friends recently heard they're now divorced. It's a shame, and I can't help but wonder if they would have made it without the stress of the renovations or the pressure to perform for the cameras. There are bits and pieces of the episode that definitely serve as foreshadowing. I wonder how hard it was for them to watch it this weekend as it aired for the first time.

In the meantime, watching our friends try to handle homeownership for the first time was hilarious. Before they got started, they bought books to try to learn as much as possible. Everything from how to paint - or more importantly, how to tape up trim BEFORE painting. How to remove a toilet. How to break up tile. How to lay hardwood floor. All of their talent, or lack thereof, was on national television for everyone to see. I think it served as the much-needed comic relief in the episode.

See here for details on the next viewing of the episode. See here for details about Nashville Ghost Tours. TLC used some footage of our friend in his tour guide costume in the episode. If you're ever in town, be sure to put the tour on your list of things to do.

My very own howler monkey

Brian & I talked to our Navy friend W. last night. He very kindly offered me some advice on getting Helen to sleep at a decent hour.

His advice was inspired by a movie called "The Rundown" starring The Rock and Seann William Scott.

I haven't seen this movie, but Will described the crucial scene to me. The Rock and Seann are in the jungle, caught in one of those classic rope traps hidden under a pile of leaves. They're dangling upside down by their ankles from a sturdy tree branch, way up high, when a howler monkey from a nearby tree attacks The Rock. Seann screams, "Establish dominance! Establish dominance!"

For clarity, there's a picture from the scene here.

Anyway, that's Will's advice to me. Establish dominance.

Trouble is, I think that's Helen's approach as well.

It was a *Super* Bowl of Shrimp

On Sunday, Brian and I took Helen with us to a friend's house for a SuperBowl party. We brought the required football snacks - namely, some shrimp (a fresh catch from the grocery store that morning). I make a mean cocktail sauce, so we were looking forward to enjoying some good food and company.

Upon arrival, I counted kids. There were 6 altogether, which ups the noise factor by a factor of 25. Aside from the 7-month old daughter of the party hosts, Helen was the youngest. She's not the best on stairs, so after we got the food set up (more on that later), I kept running up to check on her. There was a gigantic playroom upstairs, complete with a kiddie electric train set which I enjoyed more than anyone. The three oldest boys were watching Cars, in between figuring out how to cause maximum damage to each other with minimum parental involvement. Making sure Helen didn't get caught in the crossfire so meant missing most of the first half and about 90% of the commercials.

Thank god for the internet. Everything from SuperBowl Sunday is listed on ifilm.com, so I'm totally caught up.

Back to the food. As we were unpacking everything, I unwrapped the seafood and noticed something odd. The shrimp didn't look - well, COOKED. So I asked Brian, "Hey, did you get these steamed, or are the shrimp raw?" Oh no, he assured me they were cooked. Doubtful, I picked one up and watched it sort of flop over. He said, "I think you're used to the grey shrimp, but these are the pink kind, and they are cooked." To test it, he peeled one, dipped it in cocktail sauce and ate it.

If you've met my husband, you already knew those shrimp were raw.

About an hour later, Brian was decidedly not feeling well. Of course, with Peyton Manning's pride on the line, we didn't leave the party until the game was over. But when the game was over, we were speeding down the interstate.

Two days later, he's still trying to get the taste of raw shrimp out of his mouth. And oh, how I giggled - to myself, of course.