Tag Archives: help

terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Ever have one of those days that makes you want to punch a baby bird?  Ever have like, 3 or 4 of those days in a row?  If you’re shaking your head ‘no’, you might want to move along. Nothing for you to see here!… you lucky b.  If you’re nodding your head ‘yes’, then by all means, pull up a chair.  Let’s commiserate together.  Solidarity, sister.  Or brother! (But seriously, do any dudes even read this blog? Besides my dads and Casey?)

We’ve had a rough few days weeks is what it is.  Nothing is really terribly wrong, which makes me feel awful for even attempting to complain.  Nevertheless, here I am.  About to go all pity party up in here.

Crosby has been sick on and off for over two weeks.  At first it was an aggressive flu that had him sounding like an injured sea lion.  It was a not-so-fun few days that kept us cooped up with tissues and thermometers and LOTS of screen time.  But it came and went, though he has a lingering cough and we ALL caught his sniffles.  And now, he seems to have caught some kind of stomach bug.  The results of which were all over his sheets/comforter/pajamas yesterday morning.  I’ll give you a hint: it was barf.  It was awful and disgusting.  I spent all yesterday morning dragging both my infant and sick toddler up and down 5 flights of stairs to wash and dry every single item of clothing or bedding that was affected by the tragedy.  OH! Did I forget to mention? Our new airbnb rental doesn’t have a washer or dryer in it!  So we get to do our laundry in the basement of the building now! Yayyyyyy!  Oh, did I also mention that we had to move into this place during the peak of Crosby’s flu?  Yayyyyy! (That move is another ridiculous story for another day.)  Anyways, he seemed better during the day yesterday so I’d hoped it was maybe just a fluke or a 24-hour-thing, but this morning I went into his room to find another mess… this time from his, eh, other end.  If you catch my drift.  (I’ll pause while you dry heave a little bit, as I most certainly did this morning.) So, the kids and I just spent another morning traveling up and down the stairs to wash and dry every single item of clothing or bedding that was again, a casualty of the stomach bug.

Throughout all of this, Crosby has honestly been a trooper.  He’s never acted super sick or complained much about it.  HOWEVER, I think the combination of sickness + being quarantined + life changes has finally caught up with him and he is acting out and having meltdown after meltdown.  It’s simultaneously heartbreaking and incredibly frustrating at the same time. I know a lot of it is our “fault” for moving him around so much, taking him completely out of his normal routine, taking away almost all of the comforts of his home, and expecting him to just roll with it.  It’s a lot for a little kid to deal with.  Hell, it’s a lot for a grown-ass adult to deal with!  Last week was the first time he mentioned wanting to go back to his old house, which crushed my heart.  And If I’m being honest, I’m surprised it’s taken this long for all of those changes to really catch up with him.  I mean, he also just got a new sibling 5 months ago!

Speaking of my sweet Willa.  She seems to be making it her mission in life to get us kicked out of this apartment by way of screaming bloody murder.  Non.stop.  She’s been sleeping terribly lately (only taking 20 minute naps and then waking up every 1-2 hours at night) which is obviously playing a big part in her current screech owl status.  I don’t think anything is seriously wrong other than just being an infant.  But she will not stop crying.  Again, simultaneously heartbreaking and incredibly frustrating.

So back to today.  It’s been a hot box of hysterics.  I feel like my kiddos have been crying all morning long and I can’t seem to make anyone chill the f*ck out, including myself.  I actually screamed into a pillow at one point, which I don’t think I’ve ever seriously done in my life.  ALL of us cried.  I may or may not have locked myself in the bathroom for 45 seconds while both of my kids screamed at the top of their lungs.  I considered having a beer for lunch.  I’m not hardcore enough for that, though.  And finally, both kids are finally asleep… and what I should be doing is washing bottles, or washing my hair for the love of split ends, or lysol-ing my entire apartment.  But instead I’m sitting here in my pj’s (it’s 2:30pm), drinking ice-cold coffee and eating puffins out of the box.  And the biggest thing that I’m feeling right now… is guilt.  I feel SO guilty for not being more calm and not having more patience for the situation.  I feel guilty for getting frustrated at my sweet kids, who (for the most part) are not trying to make my hair turn gray.  I feel guilty for complaining so much, considering how lucky my family and I are.  I feel guilty for eating all of Crosby’s Puffins.

In addition to the above, there have been a lot of everyday annoyances and just plain bad luck situations that have taken their toll on all of us these past few weeks.  I know this is just a weird phase that’ll pass.  But today, mom-ing feels tough.

Anyways, the only real reason I’m writing all of this is because, well, for one thing, I needed to vent.  And also, because I know that it’s easy to assume that nobody else goes through (literal) shit day/s like this.  But we all do.  (Wait… right?!?!?!)  And I just want you to know that if you ever need someone to drink cold coffee and talk about your shit day with, I’m here.

I’m going to go fold my whites now, peace.


planes, trains, and minivans.

Greetings from the land of chapped cheeks!  (Face cheeks, that is, you dirty minds…) Actually, I can’t really complain about the weather because it’s almost 40 degrees here today which is like, balmy.  We’re thinking of going swimming later.

We’re already in month 2 of our new life in Minnesota and things are slowly settling down after the craze of the move.  It was nuts there for a while, making sure that all of our things and cars and PETS made it here. And then making sure we were situated in temporary housing, getting Casey ready to start his job, locating the nearest Total Wine, etc. etc.  Anyways, I think at this point we’re as “settled” as we can possibly be in our current situation… that is, until we move into an airbnb next month. Sigh.  What a fun adventure!! ::she says with a forced smile::

Stepping back a bit though… I want to make sure some things are documented here, so I’m going to share the story of our move/flight from Portland to Minnesota.   Because it’s ridiculous.

The days leading up to our move were majorly chaotic.   It went something like this….
On Saturday we had a going away party at our house, but it ended up snowing a bunch the night of the party which meant that only about half of our pals actually made it.  It was still super fun (and super sad) but we wished we could have seen all our buddies.  Big thanks to our dear friends who braved the icy roads!!  We love you miss you waaaaa!
On Sunday we packed our suitcases that would basically need to sustain us for the next few months.  Super casual.
On Monday our packers came.  They lovingly wrapped our knickknacks with bubble paper (name that movie!) and had everything we own packed in less than 4 hours.  Amaze.  We moved into a hotel that night.
On Tuesday the movers came and moved all of our crap from our house into the biggest moving truck I’ve ever seen.  Our cars were also picked up by the car movers so we had to pick up a rental car for our last day in Portland.

Cut to late Tuesday night, and it snowed.  Again.  A lot.  Disclaimer: Portland gets a pitiful amount of snow maybe once a year that causes the city to basically shut down because nobody knows how to deal.  There is also no infrastructure in place to take care of all the snow so all the roads become skating rinks.  (High-five for using the word “infrastructure” before noon.  Heyo!)  So basically productive life comes to a stand-still until the snow melts.  It’s super fun if you’re in the market for a cozy couple of days hunkered down at home.  Not so much if you’re attempting to move across the country.

So when we woke up on Wednesday morning, AKA the morning of our flight, and saw the ridiculous amount of snow on the ground we thought for sure our flight would be cancelled.  And/or we thought there’d be no way we’d make it to the airport in our front-wheel drive minivan rental.   Either way, we figured we were screwed because we had SO many plans in motion that all depended on us flying to Minnesota that day.  So to reschedule would have been an absolute nightmare on elm street.  We waited a bit for a flight cancellation alert that never came, so then had to make the ulcer-inducing decision of whether or not to attempt the 30 min drive to the airport to make the flight.  We decided to go for it… so we loaded up our minivan to capacity and hit the road.  Roads that were absolute SHIT.  It was by far the scariest snow/ice drive I’ve ever endured and I grew up in Minnesota!  It was bad.  Casey was a serious driving champ, especially considering that I was white-knuckling the door and shouting things like “gah!” and “eep!” and “I need wine!” every 3 seconds.  Oh, I forgot to mention that we had to make a detour on the way to the airport to pick up our dogs at doggy daycare!  They had been there the last few days while we were staying in a hotel.  (Seriously, my head is spinning remembering all this.)  The dogs were scheduled to be on our same flight and would have to ride in crates in the cargo area of the plane.  So we made the deathly drive to doggy daycare in one piece, got the pups and set off again towards the airport.  20 more minutes of sweat and swearing later, we made it to the airport cargo area where we needed to drop the dogs off.  Casey brought the pups in and then was kindly informed that the dogs could not actually fly that day.  BECAUSE (grumble grumble) there is a rule that in order for animals to fly in the cargo area of the plane, the temperature in your arrival city has to be at least 10 degrees.  And the forecasted temp for Minneapolis at our time of arrival was 9 degrees.  ONE DEGREE difference.  I seriously cried.  After lots of attempts to get Delta to bend the rules for us (they didn’t), we had to bring the most depressed dogs all the way back to doggy daycare.  Via the shitty shitty roads.

By the way, shoutout to our rental minivan because that sucker was bomb.  Everyone on the radio was saying “DO NOT attempt to drive anywhere unless you have snow tires, chains and a 4-wheel drive vehicle!!”  And we’re like, oh we have a front-wheel drive minivan with probably stripped tires and ice skates on, will that work?  Cool, let’s do it!  And she kicked ass.

So by the time we got back to the airport, it was maybe 9am?  And I felt like I was ready for bed.  Alas, we still had to drop off our rental van and get all of our crap into the airport.  I wish so so badly that I would have taken a photo of our luggage cart… it was packed higher than Casey’s head, plus we both had car seats strapped to our backs and carry ons over our shoulders.  And two kids. NBD.  The luggage cart only tipped over and flung all of our stuff into a snow puddle one time!  Success!

Checking in and going through security actually went fairly smoothly, except for the gallon-sized baggy of loose change in one of our carry-ons (seriously the heaviest, stupidest thing to pack in a suitcase but for some reason it didn’t get packed with the rest of our shipped stuff and we couldn’t just leave it behind… it’s probably like a whole $17 dollars worth of change!!! #priorities) that caused some hoopla and a 10-minute bag search.  During that bag search Crosby started what turned out to be an hour-long tantrum.  It.was.rough.  One of the TSA ladies kept looking at me and saying (about Crosby) “Oh she’s so sad!”, “She’s really sad.”, “Why is she so sad?”.  Listen lady, SHE is a HE.  And he’s not sad, he’s TWO.

After we got through security, we decided to sit down for a casual mid-morning cocktail.  But, as I mentioned before, Crosby was still in the throes of a lengthy tantrum.  So our well deserved happy hour turned into sweaty scramble to keep our toddler from losing his shit.  I’ll spare you all the details but I will give you the ending: two half full drinks left behind and a toddler with wet pants.

One fresh pair of pants later, and we were on the plane!  The flight was actually pretty uneventful.  Both kiddos did really well.  And I don’t even feel bad for saying that, because have you read any of this story?  The only low point was flying over Mt Hood, which broke my Portland loving heart into a bajillion little pieces.

When we landed in Minneapolis, Casey went to get our rental vehicle and I was sitting down feeding Willa while we waited… and I looked over juuuuust in time to see Crosby pick up a french fry off the ground and eat it.  He immediately spit it out and said “that’s not good, mama”.  No, no it’s not.

We checked into another hotel for the evening and the next day we made it to corporate housing where we’ve been living the downtown life for the last month.  It’s been great, but I am so so ready to find a place of our own and get all of our stuff out of storage.  I miss my shoes.

Oh, and our dogs!  They got here, eventually.  They ended up having to stay at doggy daycare in Portland for 4 more nights until it warmed up enough for them to fly into Minneapolis.  A good friend of ours picked them up from daycare and brought them to the airport for us and they arrived here safe and sound and smelly.  They are now living the luxurious life with Casey’s parents for a few months until we find a house.

Anyways!  That’s the tale of our entry into the Motherland.

Moral of the story: there is no “good way” to move a husband, wife, toddler, infant, 2 beagles + all their earthly possessions to Minnesota in January.  Ever.  Just wait until spring, for the love of gawd.


tales of toddlerhood.

In the early days of parenthood, our house was a big ol’ mess of diapers and bottles and breast pump paraphernalia. Sleep deprivation and survival mode made it somewhat impossible to keep a tidy home.  But then there was a bit of a turning point when Crosby was about 7-8 months when there wasn’t such a mess anymore. We had a fairly established routine, Crosby was eating/sleeping on a schedule, he wasn’t mobile yet, I felt like I had time to clean up and keep my house fairly organized.  Ahh…memories…

But these days, now that Crosby is walking, our house looks like an episode of Hoarders.  It’s insane how much of a mess one tiny person can make.  And it’s not just that he makes a mess, but he likes to move things around.  Take things from one room and relocate them to another.  Just because.  The other day there were 4 legos in my left boot and a tupperware lid in the right.  Just this morning I noticed that there was a bag of dog treats in the bathtub.  My shampoo bottle is currently under the dining room table.  We found our TV remote in a box in the recycling bin. There are tampons literally everywhere, because that’s what keeps Crosby occupied when I’m getting ready in the bathroom, playing with tampons.  And then he carries them around with him and hides them in fun little spots for us to find when we have company over.  (He’s gonna LOVE this blog post when he’s older.)  I’m constantly asking him, “where is your other shoe?” for who knows what reason, it’s not like I expect him to respond.  But for the love of hummus, stop putting your shoes in the hamper, kid!  He’s always under my supervision, so how does he get away with these shenanigans?!

There’s a certain amount of control one has to give up when they have a toddler on their hands.  I mean, I could spend literal hours following Crosby around, picking up items that he’s deposited in unsuspecting spots.  But where’s the fun in that?  I mean, who doesn’t enjoy finding their watch in the record player?  Who doesn’t love to look for their keys for 45 minutes before leaving for a doctor’s appointment?  (Though this could totally be my fault, one time pre-Crosby I lost my keys and after HOURS of searching, I found them in the silverware drawer.  Like mother like son?)  But honestly, I’ve found that it’s much easier to let go and worry about the messes (and finding my cell phone) later.

And anyways, there’s really no point of this post, except maybe to suggest you keep a close eye on your belongings if you ever come to our house.

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Where does your toddler hide things?  Tell me tell me!