Dearly Beloved

Today was both a happy and a sad day. My cousin, Anne Claire, got married (which is the happy part) in Louisiana. I so wanted to be there to watch her walk down the aisle and remember how she used to sing "Blue Suede Shoes" in the bath tub every night. But we live here in OKLAHOMA, which happens to be very far away from Louisiana, and Jamie's work schedule prevented us from being able to make it. Not being able to make occasions like that always makes me homesick for my family in Mississippi. I was kept abreast of events through pictures and emails during the day and that made for some good laughs and made me feel more a part of things.

But what I wasn't expecting right before Annie's soccer game started, was a phone call from my father to tell me that my grandmother had died. This was not exactly unexpected news, since Bammy has not been doing well for a while and on Monday they discovered a large brain tumor. I guess it was the TIMING of the phone call that was unexpected. But then, is there ever a good time for these things? I didn't want to get too upset at the soccer fields, not out of embarrassment, or out of fear of eye makeup running everywhere, but because I didn't want Annie to suspect anything was amiss. Annie is very much my child. She wears her heart on her sleeve and feels EVERYTHING. She has known about Bammy's decline and about the tumor and was very sad about it all. I wanted to keep it from her long enough for her to be able to play her game and then I would tell her.

So, we managed to get through the soccer game (we won). And then when we got home, I told her. We both did some crying. Annie asked lots of questions. And then I got to tell her lots of my special memories with my Bammy. We cried some more. We also did a lot of laughing.

My girls are named after some special women. Annie is named after my grandmother, Mimi and my mother, who's names are both Annelle. And Jane is named after Bammy and my mother in law. Jane was Bammy's middle name. Funny how we had such a hard time coming up with a name for our second daughter, but when we thought of "Jane" it was a perfect fit. And now that Bammy is gone, I can't express how happy I am to have named my youngest after her.

Annie and I talked a lot about my memories about Bammy. I told her the story I used to love to have Bammy tell me. Once, when she was a little girl, she and her brothers were outside by the train tracks in cold weather. They were playing around and one of her brothers dared her to put her tongue on the train tracks. When she did it, her tongue instantly stuck to it. This was a problem, but the bigger problem was when the brother yelled, "TRAIN!!!!" which caused Bammy to rip her tongue from the train track, thus leaving behind a good chunk of skin. I always laughed and laughed at that story, especially the part when the brother got a good beating.

I told Annie about how Bammy used to make me fishing poles out of bamboo and then we would go down to the Benoit Outing Club and fish all morning until I was so hot and sticky that I would be begging to jump into the club pool just a few yards away. I told her that she taught me to do leaf rubbings and that she knew the names of EVERY flower and plant around. She could make the BEST hot fudge to go over ice cream. And her peach cobbler could not be rivaled. Whenever I find the PERFECT fig preserves, I am instantly transported back to my childhood and sitting in her kitchen with the smell of bacon (and possibly burned toast) in the air. She always had a smile and a laugh, and as I told Annie today, she always made me feel so beautiful. I was precious in her sight.

You want to know the best thing? Annie felt precious in her sight too. What a blessing. What a great blessing that my sweet girl is just as sad about losing my grandmother as I am. How lucky I am that my children can share such special memories of the people I love. Being able to share my love for Bammy with someone who loved her as I did was such a comfort to me today.

After our talk Annie went upstairs for a long while. She came down later and played with her brother and sister. She laughed, she played games, she did all the things she normally does. But when it was time for bed and prayers she got teary again. She walked upstairs to get her devotional that we are reading during Lent, and when she came down, she brought me this:

Bammy is in the middle, with the heart on her shirt. She is saying, "Papa Tango!" which is what the kids call my father. My father is standing next to her saying "Mom!" and up in that tree to the right is my grandfather (my mother's father who died while I was pregnant with Jane) who is represented by a cardinal. This is what she drew earlier in the day when she was upstairs for so long. I love that girl.

And I love you too, Barbara Jane. But then, you already knew that.

Incredible Baby

Poor Jane is sick. What started out as a cough and congestion last week has morphed into a high fever and crying at night. This, of course, warranted a trip to the doctor yesterday in a mad attempt to (hopefully) nip this thing in the bud so that we can have a decent Spring Break with the kids. Not sure if anyone remembers LAST Spring Break, but we were kind of hoping for an improvement over that. Meh. So, doctor's diagnosis? Ear infection and possibly a sinus infection. The urgent care clinic is not so much about a solid diagnosis, more about giving out an antibiotic and sending you on your way. Hopefully she will be back to her old self quickly. But while we wait for her to return to her wily ways, I will fill the time with what happened LAST week.

Let's set the scene first...Jamie and I are downstairs in the late afternoon hour enjoying some QUIET as all of the children play upstairs. AWAY FROM US. I can hear bumping coming from Jane's room occasionally. I can only assume she is playing dress up, which is her favorite activity. BUT I AM NOT CHECKING BECAUSE I DO NOT LOOK GIFT HORSES IN THEIR MOUTHS. After a while, she comes downstairs and hands me this craft set that I THOUGHT I had put in the top of her closet. Surely not though? Because HOW would she have gotten that? I dismissed this, thinking that I must have put the craft set in a different area altogether and had forgotten about it. This would not be unusual since I like to hide things from myself on a normal basis. That way I can blame the children when I can't find something. It's all a part of excellent parenting, I tell you.

Bedtime rolls around and Jamie and I walk Jane into her room. In the middle of her room, plain as day, is her Easter basket. Now, I KNOW the Easter basket was at the top of the closet. Of this, I am sure. This is where I start stumbling for words, "The Easter basket? That was in the top of the closet? Why is it down on the floor? How did it get down here?" Jamie told me he was sure she had climbed up on something to get it down. I opened her closet door and sure enough there was a chair there! Only it was a tiny child's chair. And if Jane had stood on the tiny child's chair and reached WAAAAAY above her head, she still wouldn't have been able to reach the BAR that holds the clothes, let alone the top shelf of the closet.

At this point, I have this whole scenario going in my head in which Jane climbs up onto the chair, makes a giant leap to grab hold of the clothes bar, swings around it until she is hanging by her monkey toes and then flips over to grab the Easter basket off the shelf. WITHOUT SPILLING ANY EASTER GRASS. I mean, there is no other explanation right??

Then, a few days later, we were watching the Pixar short films clips that were on ABC Family. There was a scene in which Jack Jack, the Incredibles baby was staying with a babysitter and the babysitter kept LOSING him every five minutes because he could fly and would end up on the ceiling. "THAT'S IT!" I shouted. "SHE CAN FLY!" I told the children the story about Jane and the Easter basket and they were pretty well convinced of her super powers too. Jack Jack can also set himself on fire occasionally, and I think it's possible that Jane possesses that super power as well.

So, I told this story over and over to various grandparents and friends. Also included in that story was how Jane crawls into the evacuation crib at church every week and they still cannot figure out how she gets there. AND they tell me that she will occasionally get her juice out of her bag. Her bag that is HANGING WHERE SHE CANNOT POSSIBLE REACH IT. Clearly, she has super powers. It explains so much!! Why did I not think of that sooner??

Only after telling the story over and over, Annie comes to me one afternoon and tells me that she now remembers getting the blocks out of the top of Jane's closet and putting her Easter basket on the floor, along with the crafting set. So. I guess she can't fly.

Oh well. I still think she's a pretty incredible baby.

Mortifying Moments of Motherhood

Now THERE'S a good title. Kind of makes you feel little bit sorry for me? And maybe makes you want to read about what happened right? Probably because if you have kids, perhaps are related to a child, or even KNOW of a child, then you MIGHT have been in my shoes before. Or possibly you are going to be...so DUCK AND COVER!!!!

I like to write about the funny things my kids do. And I REALLY like to write about the frustrating things my kids do because it helps me to make light of a situation and find the humor in it. Somehow, it's easier to take the moments that drive me crazy and turn them into something funny in my head. Making light of a situation is my coping skill, I guess. But today's story? It just plain embarrasses me. That's a little harder to write about, because I've got no funny to fall back on. But, I figured that if this is a blog about Motherhood, then it's best to explore ALL aspects. One cannot always find the funny in a situation, because sometimes it's just not there.

The day started out innocently enough. I was, in fact, lulled into a false sense of security as I walked into my bedroom and found Jay making MY bed WITHOUT BEING ASKED TO DO SO. Then I walked into the kitchen and found Annie fixing Jane her milk WITHOUT BEING ASKED TO DO SO. Who trained these children?? And just for the record, I do not normally have the children doing my household chores. Although, now that I think of it, maybe I SHOULD. It would be good payment for that whole Mortifying Factor that I deal with from time to time.

Jane and I dropped the big kids off to school and then headed to a PTA meeting. Jane actually listened to me as I told her she could not have more candy out of the candy bucket in the PTA meeting. Jamie and I have really been cracking down on her about her whining, as well as listening when we say no. She is getting better and better, but the "two" still rears it's ugly head often. This is when I repeat "Children are a blessing. Children are a blessing. Children are a blessing." But TODAY, I did not have to repeat that mantra because apart from one distressed cry, she did not argue over the candy issue. "I am rocking this mom thing," I thought to myself.

See...they lull you into that false sense of security so you'll let your guard down.

After the meeting, we met some friends at McDonalds, as is our normal monthly routine after meetings. As we pulled into the parking lot, Jane yelled, "YAY!!! Donalds!!!" She likes to give me an extra dose of "cute" before lowering the boom. We ordered our food and went to play on the playground.

Here is where a little backstory is needed. The friends we meet at McDonalds are good friends. Actually, scratch that. They are GREAT friends. And thankfully, after today, FORGIVING friends. Our kids have been playing together forever and Jane looks at them as siblings. She has a love/hate relationship with her one friend who I will call "Sweet Baby Boy" for this particular post. And he IS a Sweet Baby Boy. He cuddles with me and loves on me and calls ME "Jane". I love that boy. He and Jane also knock the tar out of each other on a regular basis though. They also hug a lot. So, we have hope for them yet.

So, the kids are playing and I am getting into the groove of hanging out with the mommies and catching up on some time with them when the SCREAMING starts. It is coming from Sweet Baby Boy and Jane is standing right next to him. That can't be good. His mother goes to him and discovers that JANE HAS BITTEN HIM.

*Jane's mother hangs her head in shame.*

My BABY bit another baby. Hard. Hard enough to leave a mark and what may have possibly turned into a bruise. Oh. My. Word. The shame. The embarrassment.

I snatched her up and spanked her fanny. Many times And fussed at her. VERY VERY LOUDLY. (This would also be called "yelling" but it is harder to write "And I yelled at her" for some reason without sounding like a Terrible Mother.) And in all the commotion the McDonalds play area FELL SILENT. All of the children stopped what they were doing to watch me spank my child. All the PARENTS fell silent to watch me spank my child. And I promise, this was not my imagination. IT WAS SILENT in there for a good 10 seconds as I unleashed my wrath upon my wayward child.

And then all the parents and all the children watched me as I packed up my bags to get the heck out of there. To punish Jane and also so that the tears of embarrassment would not fall while I was actually IN McDonalds. Jane gave Sweet Baby Boy a hug and then we began our Walk of Shame out of the restaurant. She trailed behind me sniffling and looking forlorn. But I was too mad and too embarrassed to care much.

Because ya'll...my CHILD BIT SOMEONE. ON PURPOSE. With the intent of biting and leaving teeth marks on said person. In order to HURT them.

I know I am not raising a serial killer and that kids do this kind of thing from time to time, it's age appropriate and blah blah blah. But REALLY. Really, really, really. It is hard to swallow your pride and watch your child purposely do something like that to another child. Because somehow, as a mother, you feel as if you are to blame. It's that whole, "Where did I go wrong?" thing.

It's funny how our children's actions have such an effect on us. Because I have relived that moment over and over today. And I still feel just as bad about it as I did then. As if *I* somehow can control the choices that Jane makes. Boy, wouldn't THAT make life easier.

So, anyway, we went home. Jane was QUIET all the way there. She didn't ask for her blanket or her cup or anything else that she normally asks for in the car. Just her sniffles from the backseat occasionally. She knew I was TICKED. When we got home she went straight to time out and stayed there while I stewed and loaded the dishwasher. And stewed some more.

When I got her out of time out, I knelt down on her level and talked to her about the biting. But she's two, so who knows if what I said really made an impression. She was still upset and cried for a while. I was still upset and cried a bit too. Jamie called and asked if we wanted to meet him for lunch. And as we loaded up in the car, Jane looked at me and said, "I bite." Only, she said Sweet Baby Boy's name at the end of that sentence. I looked at her and said, "You DID bite and that was wrong. You got a spanking and had to leave your friends. Are you going to do that again?"

She told me no.

We'll see.

The Return of Ye Ole Blog

So. It's been a while.

I've missed you.

But I've also been busy. There has been a lot of chasing children involved. Lots of carpooling. Some proud moments between soccer games, football games, piano and cubscouts. Some tantrums. Some of them Jane's, some of them mine.

I've thought about you a lot.

But most of my thinking has been done in the wee hours of the morning. This is when I compose long, well thought out blog posts. They are funny and insightful all at the same time. But then morning comes, and somehow, what seemed funny and insightful at 4 am, seems much less so in the light of day. And once again, blogging gets pushed to the side in lieu of my daily routine.

Suddenly though, I find myself composing blog entries when driving the car, when fixing dinner or helping Jay practice the piano. Suddenly, I am composing everywhere EXCEPT on my computer.

Which means that it's probably time to start writing again.

Ending the Streak (or STREAKING??)

Last night my Mother-in-Law called. We chatted for a while about the kids. We talked about Jay's first spend the night birthday party (which was fabulous) and Annie's soccer games this weekend (she scored a total of 7 goals between two games!). Then, Trish asked me about Jane.

"How's Dynamite doing?" She asked.

I sat there for a minute, totally dumbfounded. I told her that I had no bad stories to tell because Jane was on a good streak and aside from escaping from her stroller on a daily basis, had not given me anything good to write about lately. I told her about how CUTE Jane has been and that she is really turning into a toddler and is leaving this baby thing behind. Like the other day, for instance. She finished with her lunch, took her plate to the trash, emptied it and then opened the dishwasher and PUT THE PLATE IN IT. Then she grabbed her blanket and her pacifier and headed to the stairs for a nap. I think she would have put herself to bed if I had let her. She's a hoot! She also got herself completely dressed last Friday. Complete with pants, shirt, socks and shoes. Clearly, the third child here. I think I had to MAKE Jay dress himself when he hit Kindergarten.

But last night the streak ended. Or began. Depends on how you look at it, I guess. I put Jane to bed at her normal time. However, she didn't seem particularly tired and talked to herself for a LONG time in her bed. Sounded like she was having a party in there at one point. Not sure who she invited, but the guest list was evidently large and the PARTY GOT OUT OF HAND.

And then Jamie and I made a colossal mistake. We did not check our bad baby before we went to bed. No, no. We set off to our own slumber without giving a thought to what MIGHT HAVE GONE DOWN in Jane's bed before she finally checked off the net. Lesson learned.

At four a.m. Jane started crying. I tried to ignore it, hoping she'd find her pacifier and go back to sleep. The crying got more frantic and Jamie (bless him) headed upstairs to check on her. Three seconds later he came back downstairs but all the lights were still on upstairs. THAT'S never good. So, with one bleary eye, I peered at him and said, "What happened?" "She's NAKED!" he replied. He grabbed pajamas and I laid there for about two seconds wondering if my fairy godmother was going to come and take care of the mess that I knew was awaiting me. Stupid fairy godmother NEVER shows.

And when I got upstairs, the naked baby greeted me in her full glory with a huge grin and singing a song. Her sheets were SOAKED and she was SOAKED. This, of course, is what happens when you fall asleep at 7:00 p.m. and are TOTALLY NAKED. Jumping without a net, she was.

So, we got her cleaned up, put a new diaper on (backwards and with DUCK TAPE, I might add) put new sheets on the bed, started a load of laundry, updated my Facebook status (oh you KNOW you would too!) and climbed back in the bed so that I could lie awake until about 7:05, falling asleep and dreaming just in time for my alarm to go of at 7:15.

Thank GOODNESS she gave me something to write about.

On Parenting Boys...

Almost ten years ago (eek!!) I received the news that I was pregnant with a baby boy. My reaction was pure excitement. Some of my friends didn't feel the same way. I heard over and over, "I wouldn't know what to DO with a boy!" I have never understood that. After all, I got to watch as Jay learned how to make really good car sounds at just a year old. I was there the day that he rolled around on the floor, thrilled over his new set of match box cars and shouting, "Caaaars! Caaaars! Caaaars!" over and over. I delighted in him knowing what EVERY single piece of construction equipment was. And he taught ME a good lesson on construction equipment as well.

It was cool to see the kind of stuff that was inborn in him and set him apart from girls from the get go. His love of sleeping in his rubber rain boots because they were his "Buzz Lightyear boots", his ability to spot the make of any 18 wheeler out there and call it out to me while we were on the road, and the boy noises...ahhhhh...the boy noises. Siren noises, motorcycles, 18 wheelers, boats...they all have a different sound. I never noticed that until I had a boy to point it out to me. All of these things that Jay picked up on were as inborn in him as Annie's love of painted nails and "pretty" things.

But remember that mother who said "Just because your friends decided to jump off a bridge doesn't mean you have to too."? Yeah. I would just about guarantee you that she didn't have a girl. Nope. She was the mother of a boy. Promise. And I know this because of what happened in the cafeteria the other day.

I was out shopping for Jay's ninth birthday present. I had just bought it when my cell phone rang. As I answer, I hear Jay's principal on the other line. She says, "Malinda, Jay is fine." Now, this? This is not a good way to start a conversation. I am already running through my List of Doom. Among these is 1. Head Trauma and 2. Broken Limb. She follows her statement up with the news that Jay and his friends were playing a breath holding game in the cafeteria today. They wanted to see who could hold their breath the longest. Jay won. Of course, winning THIS particular contest means that you hold your breath so long that you pass smooth out onto the cafeteria floor. Thankfully, one of the teachers spotted the game and knew what was happening. She arrived just as Jay passed out, thus saving him from number one on my List of Doom. Thank goodness for our teachers and their powers of observation.

But poor Jay was hysterical. I tried to talk to him on the phone but couldn't understand anything he was saying through the heaving sobs. So, I headed to the school to pick him up and bring him home. I figured this would be a good opportunity to discuss several TOPICS that mothers need to discuss with third graders without the eyes and ears of younger siblings.

So I brought him home. He was still VERY VERY quiet. I asked him if he was still scared by the passing out and he told me that he was. So then I asked him exactly WHAT he was scared of. "I'm worried that I did PERMANENT DAMAGE to my BRAIN!!!" he wails. I reassured him that he was FINE and that God made us with a stupid switch in circumstances like these so that we would pass out, therefore turning OFF the stupid switch and start breathing again. "Your brain is FINE," I told him. "However, I'm not sure how well it was working BEFORE you played that game." Then, he looks down at his ankle. His eyes get VERY big and he says, "Mom. My ankle. It's BLEEDING." I looked at it and said, "It's just a scratch. Go wipe it with a paper towel." He looked at me, with fear filled eyes, "But Mom! What if I burst a blood vessel with I passed out? Could this be serious?" It is at this moment that he swiped a finger across the blood on his ankle. And smelled it. "Oh. Never mind. This is just gravy from the cafeteria."

Boys.

The Spring Break that Wasn't

So if you look at this in terms of comparisons, that title is kind of like saying, "The Little Engine Who Couldn't". Huh...only THAT would change the whole outcome of the story! Which I guess is entirely appropriate, since that's exactly what happened to us! I love me some comparisons!

So, the Wednesday before Spring Break Jamie and I went to our weekly Bible Study. At the end, as we were taking prayer requests, I asked that everyone pray for my sanity as I was taking all three kids to Mississippi for a week by myself. As in, without Jamie. Oh, and also? I had broken my leg the week before. Not a bad break, mind you, but enough of a break to cause searing pain when stepping without the crutches that I was instructed to use but couldn't because how do you use crutches and take care of a baby? Four arms. That's how. And since I don't HAVE four arms, crutches just weren't going to happen.

Anyway, so I make this prayer request and afterwards everyone is asking how far the drive is, and how I handle that by myself. I'm feeling pretty smug because I have done this drive numerous times and I am quite used to doing this trip without Jamie. I'm all, "It's tough but SOMEBODY'S got to do it...". And all the while, what I'm really thinking is, "Piece of cake. Can't wait to tell them how great it went. I am SUCH a rockstar!!"

Note to self...smug attitudes, ESPECIALLY in church, will really come back to bite you.

So, Friday morning comes and we make it out of the house by about 8:20 or so. We had a few bumps getting the car loaded, but everything worked out and pretty soon we are on our way. Jane is eating and napping, big kids are watching a movie and I am jamming to my ipod. Now, let me mention, that I have this trip down to a fine art by now. We stop in Brinkley, Arkansas for lunch and gas. Not before. Never before. We HAVE to pass the sign that says, in BIG BOLD LETTERS, "SPARING THE ROD WILL SPOIL YOUR CHILD!!!!" before I can stop. I don't know, something about seeing a sign about beating my children really gets my vacation off to a good start. I am, of course, kidding. Do not call DHS on me.

So, we finally arrive in Brinkley and stop at McDonald's. This is when Annie tells me it hurts when she tee tees. And THIS is where Annie will begin to need years of therapy as she rereads what her mother wrote about her on the internet. But ANYWAY. And of course, this does not surprise me because LITERALLY someone has been on antibiotics in my house since JANUARY, and since Jane AND Jay had just finished up THEIR antibiotics that very morning, it only made SENSE that she would have a UTI. Tragedy averted though. We got a med called in for her and ready to pick up upon our arrival in Mississippi. No harm, no foul. And naive little me thought, "OKAY! There's our bump in the road for THIS trip." HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! That's not the sound of me laughing, it's the sound of FATE.

So, we arrive in Mississipi, at my parents house and all is well. There are hugs and kisses exchanged, Jane is glad to be out of the car. Everyone is happy. We pick up Annie's meds, have a glass of whine...uh wine...and spend a lovely night talking. I bathe Jane, who eats virtually no supper, and then put her to bed. She cried for three seconds and then was out like a light. And I promise you, I stood outside of her door and made the statement to my father who was standing with me, "I have the BEST babies! They have all traveled so well!" HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Yeah. That's fate again.

Jane wakes up at eight the next morning and she is screaming her head off. I don't think much of it, other than that she's hungry. Sure enough, she eats like a horse. We play all morning and then Nana and I take Jane shopping and Papa takes the big kids out to play and fish at the farm. A good time was had by all. Until...

Mama and I came back home to put Jane down for a nap. Such a short and sweet statement, that should be such a short and sweet task. But instead it turned into HOURS of drama. She screamed when I put her in the pack and play. I thought she would calm down, left her in there and closed the door. Ten minutes later I hear her BANGING on the door and screaming. I went to check, thinking that maybe a cat got caught in her room, but no. There is Jane, standing there, having crawled OUT of the pack and play. And here begins the battle of all battles. As soon as I put her in, she crawls back out. In, out, in, out, in, out. Round and round we go. We play this stupid game for a while. I lost count of hours. I just know she was hysterical and it was loud. And my leg hurt. Then, Mama and I get the idea to take her to my aunts house, where there is an actual crib. YES! THIS is the solution! She doesn't like the pack and play!! PROBLEM SOLVED!

And my mother would like me to point out here they they DID have a crib, but I told them I wasn't having anymore babies, so they got rid of it. I told them to take that up with Jamie.

We arrive at my aunts house, Jane is still screaming. We put her in the bed there and close the door. She crawls out again. Now, you may be asking WHY I didn't just rock the girl to sleep. Ahhhh....if only that were an option. My children are really good sleepers. They always have been. But they are really good sleepers who have never rocked. They like to be put in their beds and left alone to go to sleep. I did try rocking her, but she was having none of it. She turned into a hissing, spitting, head spinning around baby. So THEN, Mama and I decide that the crib just needs to be moved to HER house and THEN Jane will sleep. YES! THAT'S the problem!! So, my father comes, takes apart the crib, hauls it to their house, and reassembles it.

I'll give you one guess as to what happened next.

So, then I just completely gave up on this napping thing, hoping that MAYBE things would be better in two hours when she went to bed. Jane has now been screaming for somewhere around three hours now. I was in serious need of Advil. And perhaps a glass of wine.

Eventually she gets sort of happy, though we treated her much like a live grenade because at any moment she could blow up, unleashing a fury that sent us all stumbling backwards by several feet.

Again, so supper, and this time she is hysterical through bath time. It is at this point that my mother says, "I don't blame you if you do not want to continue this visit." Now, this visit was supposed to be three days with my parents, followed by three days with Jamie's parents, followed by two days with my grandmother. The thought of having to repeat this process with each house, alone, and with a broken leg was enough to make me rethink my plans. I started to seriously considering leaving.

I put Jane down for the night and we continued the in and out dance for around forty five minutes. Only this time she is absolutely exhausted, but WILL NOT STOP CLIMBING OUT OF THE CRIB. It is at this point that my father gave her a new nickname of "granite". Fitting. I finally had to spank her to get her to stay in the crib. Funny how that stupid road sign actually came into play. Eventually, she slept, though fitfully, until about midnight when she finally slept without waking. I, of course, couldn't sleep until I KNEW she was down. So, I didn't get to sleep until after one. I hated to just give up and go home knowing this would set a tone for the rest of our trips. I was determined to stay. I went to sleep, still debating, but thinking we could always pick up and leave later if things got too bad.

And then, at 5:30 in the morning, Jay threw up. And we left two hours later. The End.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! That's fate again.