We’re back!

Wow. This road trip has been AWESOME so far.

About one hour into the trip, Wito took two bites of my everything bagel and broke out in hives all over his entire body. We are back home at the doctor.

Viva la Road Trip!

Terrible Twos

Wito’s 2nd birthday party is this Saturday, and I’m knee-deep in preparation. (You know, if “knee-deep” means watching Paula Deen and her sons make a mighty fine Banana Split Cake while filing my nails.)

Oh, and those Terrible Twos? They have officially made their appearance one week early.

Case in point #1:

What do you MEAN the carousel isn’t open yet? MY LIFE IS A HEAPING PILE OF DOG SHIT.

Case in point #2:

I’m not really fond of this drab wall color. Let me spruce it up a bit.

Send help.

Elsewhere

My trip so far - lovely ladies, six hours of sleep, mashed potatoes and gravy.

Elsewhere:

Looking for a stylish laptop bag?

Check out Wito’s debut on ParentDish.

Quick Update

Leaving in a couple of hours for San Francisco.

Chick-fil-A was fantastic. (#1 with a lemonade, to be specific.)

Wito awoke at 5:30am again.

This morning’s breakfast request?

Mac & Cheese. (???)

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Guess What We’re Having For Dinner?

Wito woke up yelling “Hungwey, hungwey, HUNGWEY!” at 5:12 this morning. Now, the hungry part wasn’t so weird, given I currently own the title of Mother To Gigantor, but the 5:12am part was less than desirable for reasons I’m sure I don’t have to explain here.

I let him roll around for about 45 minutes while he yelled phrases such as, “I burped, mommy! EXCUSE ME.” and “Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, milk time!” (Seriously, people. He’s a counting savant. Also? When we’re driving in the car and listening to music? He names THE INSTRUMENTS that are being played in the song. How in the hell does he know the difference between a guitar, piano, trumpet and violin? OH, ENLIGHTEN ME.)

(Sorry. I just had to get that out there.)

Finally, when I decided to embrace the early wake-up call and drudge my sorry ass out of bed, I carried Wito into the kitchen and asked him what he wanted to eat. We pretty much have a standard high class breakfast menu at Casa Whoorl, which consists of Eggo waffles (Um, Nutrigrain because I, like, really KER about health), yogurt, milk and/or cheerios.

I looked at Wito and asked what he wanted.

“Waffle?”

“No.”

“Toast?”

“No.”

“Blueberry yogurt?”

“No. HUNGWEEEY.”

“Sweetie, what do you want?”

“I wan cheekey nunnets and faffel fwies.”

“What?”

“I WAN CHEEKEY NUNNETS AND FAFFEL FWY.”

“Um, you want chicken nuggets and waffle fries? Right now?” (6:18am, to be exact.)

“Yes.”

I stood there, looking at him and thinking of the two times in his life that we have fed him fast food. (Chick-fil-A, of course! I mean, is that REALLY fast food?)

And honestly? I did a little happy dance because OH MY GOD, I GET TO EAT CHICK-FIL-A FOR DINNER. HELL YES.

I’m off to San Francisco tomorrow morning to attend Blogher. Hope to see you there!

Want to hear about my weekend?

Then head over to Secret Agent Josephine’s blog!

(The incredibly lazy writer in me LOVES it when this happens.)

Lingering

The summer cold is much better, but not completely gone, mainly because I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in six nights. Why, you ask? Well, my husband was out of town for the past week while Wito and I were left here to drown in our snot. Of course, I couldn’t tell you this because I’m filled with paranoia self-destroya about announcing to the internet that I’m all by myself, PLEASE COME KILL ME.

(Also, I think it’s important to point out that while I was dying over here, he was in the midst of a furnishings installation at one of his client’s homes in a swanky resort town, sipping pinot noir and marveling at the majestic beauty of the mountains.)

(For six days.)

(While I died.)

So, yes, AS USUAL, within thirty minutes of dropping D off at the airport last Tuesday, Wito was covered in phlegm. (Why is that the case, people? WHY??? 3 out of the 4 times he has left town, Wito has come down with an uber illness! GAH.)

However, my positive attitude was steadfast. Wito’s cold was not going to put a hamper on our time alone! I put him down for a nap, hopped on the Wii Fit for a rousing round of Super Hula, and within 15 minutes, felt that familiar raw tingling in my throat.

That was 2:45 on Tuesday. Game over.

Since that time, my nights and days have been filled with frequent wakings (Wito) and frequent tantrums (me). That second child we were thinking about attempting? After this week of horrible sleep? Maybe we should push that out a leeetle further, honey.

And the best part? Right as Wito started feeling better and sleeping through the night, my cough started and I hacked my damn brains out all night.

(The complaining! How do I stop it?)

The bright side! D is back, the babysitter watched Wito while D and I had a nice lunch at a fab restaurant with the ocean breeze blowing through my horribly tangled hair, and I’m feeling much better. I think I need to be a Lady Who Lunches. You know, just in case you were wondering. I can’t even remember the last time I had lunch without worrying about Wito being messy/bored/not eating/too loud. I’m sick of the parental shifts, where one parent scarfs down food while the other walks around with the child. DOWN WITH THE SHIFTS! JOIN THE REVOLUTION!

I think I would be an excellent LWL, and I must admit, the one Cadillac margarita I had before my meal was the perfect cocktail to give me that tingly buzz while the sun warmed my raw nose. (Of course, the Alka Seltzer Cold Medicine gelcap I took beforehand might have played a mild part in the buzzing…honest mistake, I swear.)

Now, if I could quit blowing my nose every 32 seconds, my life would be heavenly.

(I bought a Neti Pot. I’m scared to use it. More on that later.)

Good night to all.

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