This post is about a week late but that’s what happens when you’re 18 weeks pregnant and you faceplant into your bed as soon as your kid naps/goes to bed for the night. AKA no free time to do stuff like blog. I do think that I’m finally getting past the extreme fatigue that took over my entire existence during the first trimester. Thank the good Lorde. The singer. Anyhoo, these photos are from last weekend – Memorial Day weekend – when me and my guys went to Hood River for the day. I used to go to Hood River for the wine tasting. Now I go for the change of scenery and the excellent waterfront park that occupies my kid while we wait for a table at Pfriem. Where I then watch my husband drink beer and I pretend that iced tea is just as refreshing.
I mentioned this on the Instagrams, but right after the photo below was taken at lunch, Crosby proceeded to have meltdown after meltdown to the point where people were turning and staring and the older women at the table across from us gave me that head-tilted, half-smile, we’ve-been-there-it’s-ok look. I’m fairly certain I sweated through my shirt and my face was perma-red the entire time. It was pretty rough. I think it was a combo of the hangries and a too-short nap. Not sure what Crosby’s excuse was though… mreheheheh.
Other than that! The rest of our day there was lovely. We spent a good chunk of time walking along the river and watching a kitesurfing tournament. Or is kiteboarding? Sailboarding? Kitesailing? Skiting? Kurfing? I actually have no idea what it’s called but it looks hard as rocks.
Speaking of rocks. Crosby insisted on carrying 3 “wocks” and his water bottle by himself – which resulted in dropping at least one of said objects every 3 feet or so. Patience is a virtue that carries a lot of wait.
We wandered around town for a while after the park and had the same “we should totally move here” conversation that we have every time we’re in Hood River. It’s just so GD cute. We stumbled upon the sweetest little ice cream shop that was filled with cute little families and yummy looking treats… but they only took cash and we only had a credit card. So we left, with tears in our eyes. Or maybe that was just me. But then we drove past a Dairy Queen on our way out of town and were like, well, it’s there, they take credit cards, we might as well stop. And I gotta say, after being spoiled with so much ridiculous Portland ice cream over the past few years, DQ just doesn’t really do it for me anymore. I know, don’t hate me. My name is Shawnna and I’m an ice cream snob. If anyone would like to pay for my ice cream rehabilitation, don’t.
So here’s hoping that this weekend is exactly like the last one! Minus the tantrums. Plus better ice cream. And more deodorant. And a gallon of milk. Paper towels. Eggs. ooh.. pickles!
This has now become my grocery list.