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I realize, the title up there is extreme. But just listen.
Almost two years ago, the fall after Avalon was born, Rob and I learned that U2 was going to be in concert the following summer in Chicago. Neither of us had seen them live before, and we’re both pretty big fans, so realizing that it seemed like a bucket list-type of activity, we jumped on some tickets – and even spent decent money on them, justifying them as part of our Christmas presents to one another.
Fast forward to eight or so month later, the beginning of the next summer, and we get notified that Bono was undergoing back surgery and the concert we were scheduled to go to was being postponed until the following year. No money back for our tickets. Just waiting a whole year to see them.
Super-fast forward to this summer, and here I am, nine months pregnant at the U2 concert, FINALLY.
Only we almost didn’t get go to again because SOMEONE forgot to bring the TICKETS to CHICAGO and realized this only AN HOUR BEFORE THE CONCERT STARTED.
So there we were in our hotel room, getting ready to go to the concert; Rob making himself a little pre-concert cocktail and me, very much not drinking any cocktails, though in the following minutes I would have practically eaten a baby for a shot or five of vodka.
All of a sudden, Rob sits up really straight and smacks himself on the forehead with a very dramatic and panicked “OH MY GOD.”
Right then, I knew what he was going to say. He forgot the freaking tickets. He starts frantically rummaging through his backpack looking for them, as if they were going to magically jump out of thin air and into his hands along with a flurry of sparkly pixie dust and miniature unicorns.
I decide in this moment to just keep my mouth shut and not say anything. Granted, OF COURSE I wanted to start bitching and moaning and even crying a little bit, but instead I knew I just shouldn’t. Let him figure this out. Let him freak out. Pretend to be calm. Callllmmmm. So I turn to Twitter. Maybe I can get some sympathy there.
Meanwhile, Rob is practically clawing at his iPad trying to dig back into his email archives and find our ticket purchase receipt, hoping we can contact the seller to have them email us a new PDf of our tickets. Rob calls, and WOP WOP, they can’t help us.
I’m seriously on the verge of crying now and am giving the stink eye to the canteen of vodka sitting across the room. After more frantic calls on Rob’s part to various family members asking them go to our house to take cell phone photos of our tickets (which were IN HIS DESK DRAWER, FOR THE LOVE OF GAWD) and then text them to us, we jump into a cab and head over to Soldier Field in hopes that maybe our little janky cell phone photos are enough to convince the ticket nazis that we really did buy tickets to the concert and to PUH-LEASSSSSE LET US INNNNN, I’M NINE MONTHS PREGNANT, GIVE ME SOME SYMPATHY.
Well, it worked. The guy at the ticket office admitted that although it was possible for us to pull the wool over his eyes, he didn’t think we looked like the type of people to do that. I’m not really sure what that meant, other than the fact that he must not have had much personal experience with swollen, waddling, with-child thieves. He was able to use our printed-off email receipt and give us new, official tickets. We made it to our seats with plenty of time to spare before Bono rocked out the most killer concert ever.
And our marriage survived it all.
On Saturday we looked at the forecast to see that today was going to be a beautiful day and decided that we should take Avalon on her first trip to the zoo.
I know. This was her VERY FIRST time going to the zoo, ever. I sort of felt like I may have neglected her in some way, having lived through almost two entire years of her life without witnessing the sights (and smells) of the good old zoo. We bought a season pass, though, and have really good intentions of making up for all the lost time.
One of the first stops at the zoo was the farm area, which was fun because she totally recognized most of the animals. In this section there was an area for kids to pet and feed goats, or just have their personal space intruded by goats snacking on their shirts.
Then we ran into the ponies, every little girl’s favorite animal. Avalon decided that she wanted to go on the pony ride, so we handed her over and stood back to watch our little girl instantly grow up about five years. Seriously, she looked so old sitting in that tiny leather saddle cruising around the ring and she loved all six minutes of the ride.
The rest of the time was spent trying to spot the different animals and point them out to her, when in reality she was more interested and intrigued in all of the other kids that were there. Ahh, money well spent. Next time we are in need of a family outing we’ll just take her people-watching at the airport.
Following the zoo we took our picnic lunch across the street to the really cool, gigantic play area where we thought we could have lunch together before unleashing her on the playground. Unfortunately Avalon quickly spied the really cool, gigantic play area and wanted nothing to do with eating her lunch because she wanted to PLAY! PLAY! WAHH! SOB!! PLAY!!!! PLAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!
I was sure that after a few minutes of throwing her nasty temper tantrum she would calm down and eat some food, but that girl has Ironman-like endurance and gave us a solid fifteen minute display of Free Birth Control. Rob and I commented on how easily we slid from MOST FUN, AWESOME PARENTS EVER! to YOU GUYS SUCK AND I HATE MY LIIIIFFE! Surely this will be a pattern from now until Avalon goes to college.
Nevertheless, Rob and I stuck our fingers in our ears, ate our lunch, and finally allowed Avalon to go play…and then we went right back up to Awesometown status.
It was a perfect day with our little family. Nothing better than making these kinds of memories together.
*sappy sigh here*
To sum up the last four days:
Sand, smiles, sunshine. This girl is a beach baby, for sure. I tried to take her in the pool today, and she wanted nothing to do with it. But take her to the beach to let her roam around independently, dig in the sand, and slosh in the surf, and Avalon is in heaven.
I’m in heaven, too. Every day has been so wonderful that when I lay my head down on my pillow at night even my prayers have changed. Usually when I pray I have a list of requests; that God would bless our family and keep us safe and secure through the night, and that He would give our bodies restoration for another day, etc. But since I’ve been here I have little to say other than thank you…thank you for the sunshine and cloudless, blue skies. Thank you for seventy degree temperatures. Thank you for this opportunity to be here, recharge, and have my spirits lifted in what is clearly my happy place.
So here’s what we’ve been up to:
Making sand castles…
Snacking on the beach…
Visiting the pier…
Going out to eat…
Taking walks and chasing sea gulls on the beach…
Making friends everywhere we go…
MAN, does she know how to make friends. Evidently she is the unofficial hostess of wherever she is, whether it’s the beach, a restaurant, or in her stroller on a walk. Without any hesitation, she says an enthusiastic “HI!” to everyone within a five foot radius of her. And if people don’t respond? She just repeats herself – “Hi! Hi! HI!” – until they acknowledge her and greet her back. Luckily most of the people down here at this time are retired, grandparent-types who are more than happy to indulge her and play along with her game. I am really beginning to see her daddy’s social extroverted personality shine through her, and I’ll go ahead and just wait to be worried about how friendly she is with strangers, at least until we leave Senior Citizenville.
So while we miss Rob and the rest of our family, in case it isn’t obvious, we’re having buckets o’ fun down here.
This afternoon at 2:30 I was so filled with joy I just about cried.
Didn’t, because my makeup would have been a mess, but almost.
Because at 2:30 we touched down in my home away from home, Florida, and I was greeted with palm trees, warm air and blue water. When I walked outside the airport and immediately felt the perfect breeze it was like a cold, gray cloud was lifted from my shoulders and my head was instantly cleared from all my nightmarish memories of dirty snow and frigid, below-zero temperatures.
I am the mental patient and Florida is my leather couch.
The trip getting here was successfully uneventful. Avalon was a peach throughout all of the traveling and made some very keen observations about different parts of the country and its corresponding climates:
As our plane was pulling out onto the Chicago runway to take off: “bye snow!”
After we landed in Florida, said with great enthusiaism and very matter-of-fact: “NO SNOW!!!”
She is totally her mother’s daughter.
Surprisingly, even though I had to wake her up at 7am to get her ready and out the door, she never did sleep a wink on the airplane during her regular naptime. I was shocked, knowing how tired she would have been by that point in our big day, but she was too busy watching Baby Einstein movies and playing with Mamie’s reading glasses to sleep.
Of course not even three minutes after we pulled out of the airport, guess who passed out in the backseat of the car?
And that is the story about how she only took a 30 minute nap and lived through the longest day of her life to date.
That little catnap managed to perk her right up, amazingly, and we were even able to rally her up enough to take her out to our favorite little local greasy joint for dinner:
NO COATS! DO YOU SEE? WE’RE NOT WEARING ANY COATS OR SCARVES OR BOOTS OR HATS! Really, I’m a simple woman. Very easy to please.
When we got back to the condo and got her all bathed and ready for bed, Mom tried to read to her before tucking her in for the night, but the poor girl was so tired she kept pushing the book away and saying “night night, night night.” And then, she was out like a light.
Personally, I’m pretty wrecked from today, too. Entertaining a toddler for so many hours, IN VERY PUBLIC, CONFINED SPACES, is totally exhausting! So now I’m off to bed now, too, where I’ll have visions of sand castles and SPF dancing in my head.
As a hater of the snow (yes, I am totally going there again), I suppose that since having a child my tolerance for winter has been slightly elevated just a smidge up my personal Scale of Hate. The reason for this is – and only is – how adorable toddlers look all bundled up in their fluffy snow pants, gigantic puffy coat, and Napoleon Dynamite snow boots waddling through waist-high snow.
Last weekend we received quite the buttload of snow, a blizzard of sorts, and when it finally decided to let up a bit we bundled Avalon up and took her out in snow for the first time. I couldn’t help but laugh when she first stepped into the deep snow; due to her bulky boots she wasn’t able to keep her balance, so she fell forward and instead of being able to brace the fall she sunk face first right into a foot of snow. Poor baby.
Since it was so hard for her to walk without falling down every three seconds, we decided to plop her into her new sled that we gave her for Christmas and pull her around the yard. It was a hit! Next time I’m thinking I need to rig up some sort of harness for Oliver so he can play Rudolph and pull Avalon around, Santa-style.
And you know what? She’s welcome to go outside and play in the snow as much as she likes…as long as Rob is home to go out with her. Someone has to stay inside taking pictures and preparing hot chocolate.
At the beginning of summer Rob received an email alert that Dave Matthews Band was playing in Chicago at Wrigley Field in September. He asked me if I would like to go, but let’s be real here, my opinion didn’t matter because inside his brain we were already there on the field listening to Jimi Thing.
So of course he bought the tickets, summer flew by, and then last weekend rolls around and there we were; standing in the middle of Wrigley Field jamming to Dave and 50,000 other fans.
It was my third Dave concert, Rob’s sixth. We got to talking to some people on the L on the way there and one girl said she had already been to 42 Dave concerts, which makes me think that she probably wears Dave Matthews Band underwear and doesn’t hold a steady job.
I was pretty stoked not only to see Dave, but also because Jason Mraz was opening, so we arrived at Wrigley plenty early so that we could find a decently up-close spot on the field. And we did! Here’s where we were:
But what I slowly realized as the time drew closer for the concert to start was that there were zillions of other people trying to also squeeze up close to the stage. When Jason Mraz started to play we were squished, but still had enough breathing and dancing room to thoroughly enjoy Jason’s awesome voice and great music. I have always liked Jason’s music, but seeing him in concert gave me a whole new appreciation for his talent.
Also: Jason is hot.
Then he was done, the stage crew began setting up for Dave, and all of a sudden it happened: a giant vacuum sealer dropped down out of the sky and sucked out all of the extra air around us, compressing 20,000 people so close together than I practically dry humped three people in front of me. Everyone wanted to move up closer and get a better view of the stage, so everyone was pushing and shoving and trying to finaggle his way up to the front because “my girlfriend is up there hooking up with some other guy!” (says the stoned seventeen year-old Slim Shady look alike), to which Rob replied, riiiiiiight, why don’t you go to the back then and find your own hookup?
Not only was I dealing with mild claustrophobia and unintentionally feeling up my neighbors, I had another completely new experience. Guys, I’ve never smoked anything but four cigarettes in my entire life, but I’ll admit that that night I was totally a second hand pot smoker. It was unavoidable. The close quarters left me no choice, which reminds of a great one-liner from that night, spoken by a short, squatty, Southern dude with a drawl as thick as molasses: I would eat a baby for a joint right now.
Then at one point there was someone in front of us who was about to pass out, so she decided to sit down and chill for a minute. This person was, as we quickly found out, the “boy” half of a lesbian couple. While she was sitting on the ground, someone was trying to push through the crowd and almost stepped on her and shrieked, “dude, what’s that guy doing down there on the ground?” The “girl” half of the lesbian couple looked up at the guy with a look that could kill him dead and replied, “that’s my GIRLFRIEND, she’s a GIRL, we’re LESBIANS, you JACKASS!” Funniest moment of the concert, right there.
Over halfway through the concert (which, obviously, was awesome) Rob asked if I’d like to make our way back and out of the crowd to maybe grab a hot dog and some fresh air. I immediately agreed, and then came the hard part – shouldering our way through a mass of people thicker than the patch of hives I was about to sprout. It was a difficult feat, trying to shove through pissed-off people sick of being pushed around, but lucky for us, Rob’s physical charm helped us out. I remember at one point during our ten minute trek to the back of the field a girl locked eyes with Rob and proclaimed, “you are VERY good looking, you go right ahead” and stepped out of his way to let him pass.
Well.
We spent the rest of the concert at the back of the field where we had much more room to move and breathe and enjoy some good old Personal Space. And to stay far away from the girl so blitzed she threw up in a paper bag.
Ah. So many memories.
Oh, and the craziest part? We found out today that someone planted a bomb that night in a garbage can outside of Wrigley Field. Thank goodness that, unbeknownst to him, he actually bought what was a fake bomb from an undercover FBI agent. That would have made for a slightly different blog entry…
Although Avalon’s real birthday was Thursday, we decided to have her birthday party on Saturday. It sort of made her actual birthday a little anti-climactic, since the party was still to come, but it gave us all something to look forward to and was definitely worth the wait.
Since I’m not really the theme-y, character-y type, I decided to simply have a loose polka dot theme running through all of her birthday details. I’m a sucker for polka dots myself, obv, and polka dot stuff is easy to find and readily available, making it an easy idea to work with.
I turned our kitchen table into the dessert table. I hung the banner I made above it; it’s hard to read, but it does say ‘happy birthday.’
The cake took center stage, and I thought it turned out super cute. I had one of the best bakers in town make it since I can’t bake to save my life. The ‘polka dots’ are simply multi-colored sugar cookies, and I love the way how bold the colors are.
Not originally in my plan, I decided somewhat last minute to use the apothecary jars I bought last fall to hold candy that could be put into little bags as party favors. The kids seemed to like it, plus it just looked so cute! If I didn’t fall victim to such sugary goodness, I’d keep those jars filled like that all the time…but no doubt, my sweet tooth would get the best of me and they’d be empty in about two days anyway.
The other party favors were these cookies, the same cookies (only bigger) that were placed around the perimeter of the cake. I put them in cello bags and wrapped them up with cute polka dot ribbons.
Avalon’s birthday invitation. From Orange Tree, obviously.
And here’s the birthday girl in her party dress!
I was so glad that we were able to get the swingset up before the party, because the kids all loved it and spent a lot of time playing on it. Not sure what they would have done without it, really. Probably played in the dirt and ate bugs or something. Again – so glad for the swingset.
She was clearly LOVING all of us singing Happy Birthday to her.
Then came the cake…I’ll go ahead and let the photos can do the talking, from the ‘what the heck do I do with this?’ to ‘ZOMG, this is AWESOME!’ to ‘I just discovered the buttercream facial’:
Then, of course, birthday presents! She received a ton of great loot, so much that it looks as though the toy store just blew up inside my living room:
I had so much fun planning her party, and it turned out exactly as I had hoped. I know that she won’t remember it, but at least she can see the photos for proof of all the good times and all of the friends and family who celebrated her first year of life with her. Thanks to everyone who helped make Avalon’s day so special!
First, I think all the world should know – in case there is anyone left who hasn’t heard – that this is Courtney’s wedding week! We’re all counting down the days and hours until she walks down the aisle and are taking the remaining time to help Courtney with whatever last minute preparation there is left to do, as she’s been such a busy bee lately, running a thousand miles a minute like a pretty little chicken with its head cut off.
Brides out there: we all understand that so well, don’t we?
Anyway, I wanted to point that out before I started in on my birthday party she threw for me a couple of weeks ago because of that exact irony. Courtney – a bride-to-be, with a job, business of her own, wedding to plan, and a summer social agenda that most likely rivals that of Kourtney Kardashian’s – threw me a surprise birthday party. Something that she obviously didn’t have to do, but wanted to do for me. If you know Courtney this doesn’t surprise you at all because you know she is the most generous, giving, thoughtful girl you’ve ever met. She gave me such a fun little party that I fear that I will never be able to repay her for awesomeness. Sniff.
She planned the party to be on my exact birthday, a Sunday, and I was truly clueless about the whole thing. I was under the impression that Rob was taking me out for a birthday dinner and that was all. So when we got to my parents’ house to drop Avalon off, I had no idea that all my best friends and family were there waiting for me.
My dad told me when I got there that I needed to go outside. It seemed a little fishy and weird, so I walked out there slightly skeptical about what was going on.
OMG! OMG! SO MANY PEOPLE! HIIIIII!
Wait, whaaa? You were in on this, too? Is this really happening? DO I LOOK OKAY? I’M SO UNPREPARED FOR THIS!
I feel so loved! Wahhhh! Am I dressed okay? Lord knows, I don’t do spontaneity very well.
Mmmm. Foooood.
Oh look! A blog theme! A banner! Photos! Blog entries! How adorable!
Aww, I love ya. You got me, you sucker. For probably the first time in life, I really (REALLY, I WAS) was surprised.
After the initial shock was over, Courtney sat me down and gave a really sweet toast that made me blush and cry into my beer bottle, some of the nicest words I had heard in a really long time.
Then there was the food! All of my favorites – jalapeno poppers, asiago cheese dip, steak bites, cheese, more cheese, and then some cheese. Courtney claims that she doesn’t know how to cook, but I was very impressed because she had quite the spread laid out.
And, duh, cupcakes for dessert. I may have had one or five of these.
Finally, as part of my birthday gift, Courtney gave me…my own domain! (www.CheapTherapyBlog.com)
It’s not currently up and running yet, but I hope to be there soon. So fun!
Courtney, thank you. You worked your butt off and gave me such a fun, memorable birthday. To everyone else who also had a hand in it, thank you too. It meant the world to me.
I’ve been delaying writing this post for two reasons: 1) I’m still waiting for some photos to come my way and 2) I’m having a hard time finding the words to fully express my gratitude for last weekend’s events.
Long story short (long story long to come!), I turned 26 on Sunday and my sister Courtney and my hubby Rob threw me a surprise party. And it was blog-themed! They invited all my close friends, made delicious food, delivered a beautiful toast complete with special notes and well wishes from a few of my favorite blog friends, and made me feel so overwhelmingly blessed.
Also, I received Crocs after totally knocking them in this post. Somebody slug me quick, because I kind of like them:
26 is off to a great start, at least from the ankles up.
Happy 4th of July! It’s now 8:22 pm and I’m typing this blog post from my bed because evidently babies who go to bed at 7 aren’t all that much fun and don’t really allow you to party on holidays that require you to stay up til it finally gets dark, which is practically midnight thanks to Daylight Savings. However, I can’t complain about missing out on all the fireworks this year, and if you read my rant from last year all about the loud, obnoxious shenanigans that go on around this time of year, it’s no surprise that I don’t really feel bad about being in bed before the sun even sets. Now I just get to lay here and cross my fingers that all those janky firecrackers popping all around our neighborhood don’t wake the baby up. I have a feeling that all mothers of young children unite during this holiday, and that we’re all feeling a bit anxious about All The Noise So Late At Night While Our Kids Are Peacefully Sleeping, So Don’t Anyone DARE To Wake Them Up Or We’ll Shoot That Firecracker Up Your…yeah.
So anyway. I’ve had sort of a whirlwind last couple of days. Rob and I headed up to Chicago for a little overnight getaway on Friday, which was somewhat of a surprise on my end. The U2 concert that we purchased tickets for last November ended up being postponed because Bono up and decided to get back surgery during the dates of our concert. Unfortunately for us, we don’t get our money back, either – we just have to wait until to see them in concert NEXT summer. How much does that suck? Anyway, this was the weekend that we were going to see them up in Chicago anyhow, so since it got cancelled we thought we may as well still go up there and enjoy a little mini-vacay.
We stayed at the most kick ace hotel ever, The Wit. Very modern and brand new. Plus they have the most hip rooftop bar that I’ve ever been to…not that I’ve been to any other rooftop bars, but still. This one totally wins. There were so many beautiful Chicagoans all gussied up in their summery chic maxi dresses and designer aviator shades, and no kidding, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so uncool.
(Photo courtesy of The Wit)
The surprise of the day was when Rob told me that I had an early birthday present/spa appointment at 3:00, complete with a massage, manicure and pedicure, and I was so relaxed when I walked out of the spa that I could have cried.
After that we got ready, went and had a few drinks up on the roof, and headed to a quaint little Italian restaurant for dinner where I ate more carbs in an hour than I’ve had in the past month. I was so thrilled about all the bread that, again, I could have cried.
It was still warm and slightly light out after dinner so we decided to take a little stroll down by the river, where Rob proceeded to try and get artsy with our crappy camera, resulting in these potentially-pretty-if-they-weren’t-so-grainy photos:
The next day we did a little shopping before heading home, and while we were in Nordstrom I spotted Kelly Ripa’s YSL black pumps that I’ve been lusting after. The $795 ones. Those. And while I still can’t really believe I did this, because it’s such a slimy thing to do, I went ahead and tried them out with no (NO) intention of buying them. I think the salesman totally knew I wouldn’t be handing over my credit card and taking them into my possession right from the get go, but whatever, who is he to judge? So I tried them on, and guys, I can’t believe I’m admitting this but I totally didn’t even like them! I know. How is that possible? But they just didn’t feel good. I think it was due to the platform on the bottom of the shoe that they didn’t feel high enough. And if I’m going to be wearing heels, I want those suckers to be as high as Snoop Dogg. Call me crazy, but I feel like my legs look better when I’m wearing four inch heels. ADMIT IT, YOU DO TOO. So, whew, cross my heart, I really didn’t like them. Or want them. But I did have Rob take a very incognito photo of my feet in those billion dollar shoes which is good enough for me:
Now I can die happy and $800 richer.
