Just try to keep a smile from your face during this adorableness.

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At 22 weeks, Rosie is still refusing to sleep for long periods of time – at night. The sling is a different story. I haven’t yet resorted to wearing the sling to bed, but it’s close. Thankfully, she’s adorable as hell during the day, chunky thighs and all. I mean, HELLO, look at those eyes. Gah. She turns into a cartoon character when she smiles! She’s hit that awkward stage where she really really wants to be up and around, but just can’t yet. She grabs for all my food, all Mitchell’s toys, everything. Her favorite thing right now is a set of links. She rattles them, she chews on them, she gets body parts stuck in them (did I mention she has CRAZY narrow feet), all in all she loves them. She also loves Laika right now. Poor dog. If she isn’t outrunning Mitchell (who’s decided she’s a horse), she’s getting drooled on by a baby. Luckily she’s got that neglected child persona going on, so she takes any attention she can get, good or bad.

By themagnificentms

Murphy’s Law 101

Sometimes I’m pretty sure my family is a textbook case of being ruled by Murphy’s Law.

Mitchell’s very first speech therapy session was this afternoon. Because there’s a shortage of therapists in Dayton (along with every other medical professional), the only chance of us getting into therapy this summer was taking the 12:30 slot, even though that’s not an ideal time for us at all. It takes half an hour to get there, which screws up lunch, then it lasts for an hour, and after the half hour drive back we’ve already started eating into nap time. To be fair, I added another 20 minutes to that because Mitchell and I both needed a Chick-Fil-A fix after that. Oi.

Anyway. So. We had to leave at noon.

An hour and a half out, Mitchell’s dressed and ready to go.

An hour out, he’s naked, sneaking outside. I put his clothes back on him and we go play outside for a while. Where he promptly steps into the one pile of dog poop out there. Ok, just kidding, Kingsley’s been getting into the berries again, so there are probably way more piles out there than I thought.

Forty-five minutes out, I catch Mitchell playing his first game of hit the target. He took the bowl out of his little potty chair and set it halfway up the stairs. He sat on the step above it and was, shall we say, lining up his shot when I caught him and, luckily, stopped him.

Half an hour out, Mitchell’s dressed again and eating his macaroni and cheese.

Twenty-five minutes out, Mitchell’s naked again from the waist down and discovers the hazards of eating hot food naked.

Twenty-two minutes out, in preparation for his first speech therapy session, Mitchell very proudly exclaims, “Dammit!” when I drop a piece of his macaroni that I’m blowing on (see above mishap to see why he insisted that I blow on each and every piece of macaroni).

Twenty minutes out, Rosie decides she’s STARVING.

Fifteen minutes out, Rosie overfills her diaper and needs an entire wardrobe change.

Two minutes out, Rosie spits up all down my front. No time to change.

Zero hour, I discover Mitchell sitting in the driver’s seat with his yellow keys (leftover from our storage unit in Topeka, then claimed by Mitchell) in the ignition. Yet another argument ensues about whether or not Mitchell is 18 yet and able to drive.


Five minutes late, I discover that the only road through the base (which separates us from Beavercreek, where his therapy is) is completely closed due to a wreck. I have to drive around.

Ten minutes late, I get stuck in construction.

But we magically got there only ten minutes late. And we came away from his therapy session unscathed. I’m not sure how he’ll feel about going back next week, but we’ll tackle that when it comes.

By themagnificentms

Mitchell repairs the morning

This morning was pretty much declared a fail by 7:30, and ever since then, Mitchell’s been working to repair it.

First, there was this little nugget of adorable:


Apparently Cabbage Patch Baby is now Child #3. The bad part is, it looks totally plausible that she could be my third bald little baby. Seriously, my poor little baldies. Mitchell even has hair now, and he still looks bald.

Anyway. A few minutes later, he tried to sneak outside in his underwear. When I told him he couldn’t go outside, he thought it was because he didn’t have shoes, so he put shoes on. Then, for clothes, he chose a cape. A for Effort, buddy. And another A for Adorable.


He wanted to get outside to play with his new favorite thing, a wiffle ball hung from a tree. Uncle Travis told me about it while we were home, and I finally remembered to do it last night (while I was supposed to be doing homework, but this was much more fun).


Mitchell’s in love. He’s decided baseball is his new favorite thing. The neighbor kids play it all the time, but the youngest one is 7, so they are a little big for Mitchell. Not in his eyes, of course. In their eyes. While we were home, he played baseball with some friends’ kids and he thought it was pretty much the best thing ever. As a leftie, he made it a bit harder on the pitcher, and on Mommy trying to show him how to bat even though she’s never played baseball in her life.

Since he loves baseball so much, Justin decided that we’d all spend Father’s Day at the local minor league team game, the Dayton Dragons. Mitchell watched the game for approximately two minutes, then decided that the 7-year-old sitting next to us was much more interesting, karate chops and all. But I got a couple pictures that prove we were there, so when Mitchell’s 20 he can look back at the pictures of him and Dad at baseball games over the years and say that he’s always gone to games with his dad. Fake memories for the win!

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By themagnificentms

Happy belated 5 months, Rosalynn!

Gah. I’m terrible. Rosie turned 5 months old 8 days ago, and I’m just now getting around to posting it! In my defense, things have been going a little crazy around here. Is jet lag a thing when you didn’t leave the U.S.?

Anyway. Happy 5 months!


Look at my little chunk! If you look closely enough, you can even see some arm rolls. This isn’t the best shot to see them, but this girl has some ridiculous thigh rolls. Her legs are like a little shar pei. I don’t know how much she weighs, but she’s in 6-9 month clothes. She had to switch to 6-9 month shorts a month ago because 3-6 month shorts wouldn’t fit over her thighs. But her feet are still too small for shoes. Length-wise, she can almost fit into 0-3 month shoes, but width-wise, she’s still in newborn shoes. So shoes just fall right off her feet. She doesn’t even have to go to the trouble of pulling at them.

Rosie’s currently going through a bit of a spoiled phase. Apparently 24 straight hours of being carried in the sling (during airport hell) wasn’t enough to ruin it for her. I figured by the time we got home she wouldn’t want anything to do with the sling. But no, she’s decided that’s the only place she wants to be.


At night, she only sleeps for about an hour at a time. Sometimes she’ll sleep for two hours. Since she used to only wake up once or twice a night, this is, to say the least, a disappointing turn of events. I read that she could be outgrowing the swaddler, so last night we attempted the night without the swaddler, but it didn’t make much of a difference. Oh well. I mean, it only took two years for Mitchell to sleep through the night, so at least I know that it won’t last forever! :S

Other than the sleeping thing, she’s adorable. She rolls all over now, usually trying to get to Big Brother. She seeks out her favorite toys (a lovey blanket, a teething ball, and a stuffed animal). She doesn’t hesitate to let the world know when something isn’t to her liking. And when she’s being carried around, she tries to flip around so she can face out and watch everything.


She’s such a snuggler, too. As soon as I pick her up, she nuzzles into my neck and acts like we’ve been separated for days, not just the three minutes it took me to pee. She’s very much a mama’s girl, so I thank the Pinterest gods daily for giving me the pattern for the ring sling. I have no idea how people have two kids without a ring sling. At least one child would be screaming constantly around here without it. I just hope Rosie decides she can do without it before she’s 5. I’d rather not carry her to kindergarten in it.

Oh, and Daddy’s new shirt is very interesting!


By themagnificentms

Happy Father’s Day!

Father’s Day fell on the perfect weekend this year. After being away from Justin for 8 days, we were all so ready to be home. And then the ninth day was thrown in there, and we were REALLY ready to be home.

Sometimes, when it’s just Justin and the kids and me here, day in and day out, living our routine, it’s easy to take each other for granted. It’s easy to forget just how fabulous it is to have someone predict how you’re going to be feeling and stop to grab you something special. Or just take the kids for half an hour so you can have some glorious alone time (even though once you have said alone time, you can only manage to stare blankly at your phone screen while taking deep, calming breaths and promising yourself that the NEXT kid won’t be so hard to potty train). I don’t think I ever underestimate how much Mitchell loves his daddy or vice versa, but it definitely took my breath away when they saw each other for the first time in nine days. They’ve been spending quite a bit of time together since we’ve been back. Mitchell barely lets Justin out of his sight. Justin couldn’t even eat dinner tonight on his own.



I know I got lucky with Justin. But I’m so happy that Mitchell and Rosie also got lucky. They have a father who completely dotes on them and wants nothing more than to be their best friend. When Justin has down time, he can be found scouring the internet for future projects for him and Mitchell (I assume Rosie will join the crew soon). How awesome is that? He spends his spare time finding more ways to spend his spare time with his kids.

I love you, hubbie. You’re definitely the best! And I’d probably be saying this even if you hadn’t let me sleep until 10 the past couple mornings.

By themagnificentms

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Because my flights to Kansas had gone so well, I approached the Kansas City airport with confidence. Our flight departed at 6:10 and it was about 4:30 at that point, so I didn’t think we had anything to worry about. I’ve never been more wrong about anything in my life. I mean, trying the Sriracha flavored Lays was bad, but nothing compared to this.

It was awful from the beginning. Kansas City didn’t have a dedicated TSA pre-check lane, so we had to unstrap the car seat, unpack the laptop and tablet, I even had to take Rosie off and run the sling through the x-ray. A man and woman in line behind me were being so helpful, but when he tried to take Woody from Mitchell, Mitchell decided he didn’t want to fly again. It was awful. So, we get to the other side, and I find out I have to go to the side to be swabbed down because I’d been carrying Rosie. The same lady was trying to repack our carry-on, but I’d had everything in there JUST SO and it was hell getting it back in. Eventually we got everything settled again and were on our way to the gate. I’d like to point out that the fellow passengers were oh-so-helpful, while the screening agents were oh-so-less-than-helpful. I know they were just trying to get us through, but Dayton workers were SO HELPFUL. I have no doubt that, even without other passengers, none of the workers would have helped me.

So, on the way to the gate, I stopped at Starbucks to grab Mitchell something to eat. It was only 4:30, but we weren’t due in Chicago until almost 8, which is a pretty late dinner. While we waited in line, I overheard the worker saying something along the lines of, “I don’t care what he says, we’re closing. I’m done with this.” Which is always a good sign. We got to the front of the line, and I asked for a wrap, and she informed me that the ovens were off, so no wraps. As soon as she said that, Mitchell started crying. I was shocked that he’d made this connection, and she immediately offered to turn the ovens back on. Upon closer examination, though, it turned out he had his finger stuck between the counter and the wall. Hard. And, being Mitchell, the more attention strangers showed him, the worse it was. I had to argue with the lady to just give me a muffin instead of cooking a wrap just so we could get out of there. We got to our gate, and the security guard at the exit decided to tease Mitchell for crying. “Oh, those aren’t even real tears! You aren’t even crying! That’s the fakest cry I’ve ever heard! You don’t even have a reason to be crying!” All of which made Mitchell cry that much harder. Because that’s what kids do. I was pissed. I finally told her that he DID have a reason to be crying, he’d pinched his finger and it was blue, and she JUST KEPT GOING. Then Mitchell dropped the damn muffin anyway, and got worked up even more. So we moved. I’d been trying to stay in line for the gate because they’d overbooked the flight and I really didn’t want to get bumped, but I had to get Mitchell away from that awful woman.

Finally got Mitchell calmed down, confirmed that we had a seat on the plane and wouldn’t get bumped, and then Rosie started screaming. I’m pretty sure every single person waiting for that flight were crossing their fingers, toes, and praying to whoever they prayed to that they didn’t get stuck anywhere near us on the plane. Rosie was hungry and tired, but I really wanted to wait until we were on the plane to feed her.

Our flight ended up delayed a bit, so by the time I got on the plane, I whipped it out to feed her. Luckily they didn’t say anything about using the sling as a cover, but when the poor early-20s kid came and saw me in his seat (another pointer – book seats one away from each other because nobody books a single seat – fail), I asked if I could have his seat and he didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Mitchell was a bit more active this time around. He was tired, hungry, and ready to be home. But he was settled down before the plan even left the ground. Rosie was awake, because Rosie apparently doesn’t sleep on planes.

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Funny story interlude: the guy sitting in front of Mitchell was drunk. Well, at least tipsy. He was also nervous as hell. So, Mitchell did his thing. He asked lots of questions about the airplane having gas. Then, as we neared Chicago, he started pointing out the window and saying “Water!” I said no, it’s just clouds. He got more and more insistent, and finally I saw that he was right, we were flying over water. So I confirmed that yes, that was water. So he started yelling, “Airplane go down! IN WATER! Water! Airplane go down in water!” The more I corrected him and said we were NOT actually going to LAND in the water, we were just descending to get closer to the airport, the more emphatically he said we were going down in the water. The poor guy in front of him almost cried, I swear. The child has a knack.

Before we even left Kansas City, I got a text saying my next flight was delayed. It’d gone from departing at 9:08 to 10:40. I groaned, but thought at least we wouldn’t have to run to catch it and we could stop and eat something.

We got to Chicago and stopped to eat. Well, Mitchell paused to eat, then jumped around, which Rosie thought was hilarious. I have no idea how he had that much energy. We did our last round of diaper changes and headed to our gate.

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While we were eating, I got another alert saying our flight had been delayed again and wouldn’t depart until 11:25, which put us into Dayton at about 1:40 a.m. My blood pressure rose a bit. Between then and midnight, though, I got seven text messages alerting me to further delays or gate changes. Rosie slept, thankfully, and I resorted to parenting via tablet once Mitchell decided that it was his job to pick every piece of trash off the floor and throw it away. We also wandered the airport a lot. Mitchell loved the moving walkways, so we walked them so often I lost count. All while I was carrying Rosie, a backpack, and wheeling the carry-on.

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We were hanging in there. A little worse for wear, but hanging in there. Everything was closed by this point, so I begged the Starbucks for a cup of ice water for us. Then, at midnight, almost an hour after my flight was initially scheduled to land in Dayton, the flight was cancelled completely due to pilot fatigue. The entire gate hollered. The gate attendant announced that we could go to customer service to get a hotel room and be rebooked to a different flight.

So, by this point it’s midnight, and Mitchell hadn’t slept yet. He was done. He alerted everyone to this fact by throwing himself on the floor and screaming when I tried to move him away from the fish by the customer service line. I couldn’t blame him, as that’s what I wanted to do, too. But in the process of getting him up off the floor, I woke Rosie up, and she started screaming. So even though Mitchell finally stopped crying, I still had a screaming baby while waiting in line. God bless her, a woman next to me in line took it upon herself to shame the people in line in front of me into letting me cut them in line. All except a few single guys at the front of the line pushed me forward. Usually I would have said no, I’ll wait in line like everyone else, but I was beyond thinking I could handle this on my own. Mitchell was sitting in his car seat nodding off until I would try to shuffle forward, at which point he would jump up and take off. Finally, when I was next in line anyway, a United worker took me to another desk to rebook my flight. She commented on the giant car seat attached to the carry-on, the two kids, and my backpack and said I had my hands full. I agreed. She told me my best option was a 7:00 a.m. Delta flight to Detroit, then to Dayton. I said whatever. She told me to go feed Rosie while she got everything settled. So I did. Mitchell passed out on the bench, sitting up, while I was feeding Rosie. First time he’s ever done something like that. Sheer exhaustion will do that to you. So, after everything was settled, she handed me $21 in food vouchers (“We’re only supposed to give $7 per adult, but this is a special circumstance”) and couple slips of paper to give to the Delta gate attendants to get a seat on the flight. She told me that the flight was in another terminal, so I’d have to take a bus there in the morning at 5:30 when it opened. She told me I could walk there if I wanted to tonight (I was really worried about cutting it too close and missing my flight), but I’d have plenty of time in the morning.

I laid Mitchell down, and sat down myself. Then I looked at my child, and it broke my heart.


So I went up to the customer service desk. If I stood off to the side of it, I could still see the back of the seat Mitchell was laying on. I tried to get the customer service guy’s attention who was closest to me, but he ignored me and took the next customer in line. Finally I yelled loud enough that the lady down the way could hear me. She came over. I told her that our flight had been cancelled, and we were sleeping on the benches. I asked if there was anything they could do for us. She told me if we wanted somewhere private to sleep, we could head to the family restroom. I’m sorry, WHAT? Sleep on the bathroom floor? Seriously? I could’t believe she’d said that to me. I told her I’d only packed enough diapers for the trip, and I only had one left (Rosie took care of that shortly after). She shrugged. SHRUGGED. She said some of the family restrooms might have vending machines with diapers, and I was welcome to check them. I said Mitchell was sleeping, and I couldn’t carry him and Rosie at the same time while moving the carry-on. I asked her for any ideas. She looked at me and said, “I don’t know. Maybe pack enough diapers for the trip next time?” At that point I was so angry I didn’t trust myself to say anything more to her. I walked away. She apparently left to see if the closest family restroom had diapers, but it didn’t. Instead she gave me an overnight kit. Gee, thanks. Ever tried to pee or do anything else in a bathroom with a baby strapped to your chest and a toddler running around? Yeah, I didn’t even crack open that overnight kit until we made it home.


So I laid there next to Mitchell. They must’ve shut their wi-fi off for the night, because I couldn’t get anything. All the stores were closed. As I lay there, I got angrier and angrier. I couldn’t believe their reaction to this situation. So I went back up.

This time, I talked to the guy. I’d already tried my luck with the woman and was still too angry to face her. Once again, I explained my situation to him. I said that the gate attendant had told us we’d be given hotel rooms for the night. He pointed out that other people were sleeping on benches, people did it all the time. I said, “Yes, but we’re talking about a TODDLER here. My TODDLER fell asleep on a bench and I have to get him up in five hours to make our next flight. And there’s NOTHING you can do for me?” No. Nothing. The woman came over and threw three blankets at me. I told the guy, “I understand the delayed flight, but I don’t think you understand how badly you just screwed me over. I have no diapers! I packed enough for the trip! What do I do?” He just said, “These things happen.” He asked what anyone else had done for me, and I said the food vouchers and printing our itinerary. He said he could give me more food vouchers. I asked if I could spend them in Detroit, and he said no, just Chicago, and I asked how in the world I was going to spend more than $21 in the hour and a half that we’d be in the Chicago airport, since everything was going to be closed until at least 5:30, and we’d be spending time in Detroit. He said that’s all he could do. Again, I got myself worked up enough that I couldn’t talk to him anymore. So I went back and laid down.


I tried to sleep, but even though I had Rosie strapped tightly onto my chest, I had visions of her falling off or to the side and getting smothered. And even without thinking of that, I kept envisioning Mitchell waking up and wandering off in the middle of the Chicago airport. So I didn’t. I just laid there. Well, not entirely true. Rosie couldn’t sleep very well (gee, I wonder if it was the 60 degree building, the bright lights, the banging around from the workers?), so I walked around with her a lot. And Mitchell woke up scared a lot, so I sat with him. I hadn’t planned on opening the blankets on principle, but it was FREEZING. I opened one for myself, dug Mitchell’s blanket out of the carry-on (thank goodness I’d put it there instead of the checked bag), and gave one to a Chinese woman who spoke approximately three words of English so the customer service people must not have cared about her comfort but was obviously freezing as well. It was a long, boring night. In retrospect, it was kinda a short night.

At 5:30, I woke Mitchell up. This poor kid. I have no idea how he was holding it together.


Everyone we passed did an “Awwwww”.

We stopped at McDonald’s and spent $7 of our food vouchers. The rest went unspent. I almost spent them on principle, but wanted to get to the shuttle as soon as it opened. Quick stop at the bathroom, because I hadn’t used the restroom since the rest stop on the highway on the way to the airport the day before and Mitchell was semi-comatose so I figured I could possibly control him while I sat there. No diaper changes for the kids, because we hadn’t yet located any diapers.

So, we get to the shuttle pick-up spot. At that point I found out it didn’t open until 6. I also realized I couldn’t find my flight number on any of the boards, and I had no idea which gate I was going to in this other terminal, so I stopped a United person and asked for help. She said I wouldn’t see the flight number until I got over to the new terminal, and the shuttle was the only way to get there. The walk would require actually leaving the airport and going around. She pointed to a set of stairs that I’d have to take to get to the shuttle. My heart sank. It was 6 by this point, and I couldn’t manage stairs with Mitchell, Rosie, and, most importantly, the carry-on with the car seat strapped to it. I told her I couldn’t do stairs, and she shrugged and said that’s the only way to get to the shuttle, which was the only way we were going to make the flight at this point. I almost cried. My voice quaked. I said, “Seriously, I HAVE to get to this flight. I can’t stay in this airport any longer! Our flight last night was cancelled, we spent the night in the airport! They rebooked me onto this flight!” She said, “Well, the shuttle is the only way to get there in time, and the stairs are the only way to get to the shuttle” and walked away. Thankfully, a gentleman had heard the entire exchange and offered to carry the suitcase and car seat for me. He was huffing and puffing by the time we got to the bottom, so I know I couldn’t have managed it. Oh, did I mention the shuttle didn’t REALLY start until 6:15? And I wasn’t even in the right concourse when we got to the other terminal? So, to recap, they rebooked me onto a flight that departed at 7:02 a.m. and started boarding at 6:30, in another terminal, which could only be reached by a shuttle that started at 6, that could only be reached by a set of stairs that I couldn’t possibly manage due to the carry-on and car seat that the attendant who rebooked my flight commented on, so she knew my limitations.

Thankfully, we made it to the new flight with a few minutes to spare, to discover that it’d been delayed. Mitchell was less-than-stellar while we waited. He kept wanting to run to the windows and look out, and then run to the trash can, and basically do anything but stand next to me.

Once we got on the plane, he was good, which was AWESOME because we ended up sitting on the runway for an hour. The pilot said it was because of rain, and, while it was raining, fellow passengers were looking up other flights on their phones that were also headed east and they were all on time, so they swore there was no reason for us to be delayed. We also sat there for quite a long time after it stopped raining, supposedly waiting our turn for take-off.

It turns out every single person on that flight was only landing in Detroit for a connecting flight, because the closer we got to Detroit, the more everyone was getting ready to run. I asked the attendant for options, because we were going to land with only twenty minutes to make our connecting flight two concourses away and I HAD to make that flight. I tried to explain our situation, but she kept walking away. She said they didn’t have the electric carts or anything at Detroit, but she’d order me a wheelchair and assistance to run our stuff across the airport. I asked if they would hold the next flight, or if she could call ahead for me, but she said that wasn’t necessary. She said they’d be able to see that we were coming from this delayed flight so they’d hold it for me.

As soon as the plane stopped, everyone was up. I had another guy get my carry-on down for me, and I held my ground when people behind me asked to get in front of me. I told myself I just had to be selfish at that point, because I couldn’t stay in an airport a moment longer. As soon as the doors opened, I got Mitchell in front of me and told him to run. We stopped to grab his car seat and strap it on to the carry-on, then ran out the gate. I stopped at what I thought was our wheelchair, but the worker said no, it was in use. I said the attendant had said she’d order us one to meet us at the gate, and the worker started to argue with me about it, saying “I don’t know nothing about that, nobody told me anything,” and I just said “Whatever, I don’t have time for this shit,” and ran. Mitchell and I ran. A lot. We ran two concourses over, only pausing for escalators. That’s right, escalators. We didn’t take elevators. The suitcase may not be suitable for use anymore. But whatever. I ran with a 40+ pound backpack on my back (seriously, the thing just kept getting heavier), a 15 pound baby strapped to my chest, and pulling a carry-on with a car seat strapped to it. Mitchell just ran.

But it was in vain. We arrived at our gate TWO MINUTES late. TWO MINUTES. And the plane was gone. A fellow passenger was already there, and shook his head as I ran up. That was the point where it became all too much. I cried. “Nooooo! But we RAN the WHOLE WAY!” Seriously, I was wheezing by the time we got there. The lady just shook her head and said, “We aren’t allowed to hold a plane.” Which was bull, as just the night before I’d watched a United gate attendant hold a flight for four passengers on a delayed flight. “But the attendant promised! I ran a two-year-old across two concourses to get here! We were supposed to be home LAST NIGHT! My kids are out of diapers! We slept in an airport last night!” I was just done. The lady said our flight had already been rebooked and she’d look it up for me. She informed me that we were to fly to La Guardia now, and would be in Dayton by 10:00 p.m. That made me cry harder. So she went and got her supervisor and said, “If there’s a way to get her in Dayton earlier, and by direct flight, we really need to make it happen.” So, thankfully, the supervisor made it happen. We were stuck in Detroit for four hours, but we could fly to Dayton that afternoon. They then set about trying to find diapers.

They never did find diapers, but they pointed me toward a convenience store in the airport that sold them for only $8 per pack…of two. Seriously. But I was desperate. I assume that anyone buying those diapers is. The kids both got a diaper change, I got a giant cup of coffee, and then we invaded the lovely little play house that the Detroit airport provides. I don’t know how we would have made it for four hours without that play house. We bought lunch (thanks for those vouchers, United…oh wait), lots more coffee, and people remarked on how adorable Mitchell was playing basketball with an invisible basketball. Mitchell asked to cuddle several times, and I tried, but he wanted picked up so badly and I just couldn’t with Rosie. I tried, and managed for a few minutes, but the exhaustion was catching up with me and I couldn’t carry both of them very long.

Before we headed to our gate, I decided to risk going to the bathroom with these two one more time. I figured two bathroom breaks in 24 hours was probably about my limit. So, as I’m trying to get my pants pulled back up, I had to argue with Mitchell about whether or not Woody needed to pee. Mitchell: “Woody pee!” Me: “No, your Woody doesn’t need to pee.” Mitchell: “Woody need pee!” Me: “Don’t put your Woody there, he’s going to get wet!” I swear, when we exited that stall, nobody was trying to hide the fact that they were staring directly at us. I quickly pointed to his Woody doll, and they let out a very audible sigh of relief. Goodbye, Detroit, sorry about that!

We got to our gate well ahead of time and found out that it was delayed…due to missing flight crew. Seriously. The exact same reason for our first delay. It was almost funny. It was also almost funny when they announced that they’d found a pilot, and the pilot had found a minor mechanical issue. Shortly thereafter, we got to board an ancient aircraft with no air conditioning.


We all got situated, and then…nothing. We sat there. I joked to my neighbor, whom I’d told of my ordeal, that it was my bad luck following us. We sat there so long, Mitchell fell asleep. Adorably, of course.


And then, I really can’t make this up, the pilot came out to inform us that there was an issue. The Dayton airport was closing for an hour because the Thunderbirds, a performing flight group, was landing there in preparation for the air show this weekend. Since our flight was delayed by half an hour, we’d missed our window and would have to wait another half hour. I might have asked if we could turn the air conditioning on, and he informed me that there was no air conditioning until the plane was in the air. He said, “I’m in the same metal tube you are, and I’m wearing a tie.” I replied, “I’m wearing a baby. I win.” But it was under my breath, so only the people around me laughed. They passed out some room temperature water and we all settled down to sweat. Seriously, by the time we got off the plane my pants were wet. Poor Rosie was dripping sweat. The pilot was very funny and nice, though. I like him even more because he called a buddy of his who was in charge of “everything down there” and found out that the Thunderbirds ran into some bad weather and got stuck in Kansas City, so there was a chance we could make it there before they did. And so he turned the seat belt light on as he taxied out, and we were off. The Thunderbirds flew over us to land, it was that close. We ended up being a half hour late, but I was thrilled. We were on the ground! Only sixteen hours after we were supposed to be! I said something to my neighbor about my bag getting heavier and heavier (I could barely lift it from the ground), so he picked it up to put it on my back. As soon as he did, he went “Holy cow, yeah, that might be heavier than the allowed limit for checked bags!” Eh. Yeah.

We made the trek from the gate to the front doors, me telling Mitchell that he’d get to see Daddy soon (he hadn’t woken up very well…gee, I wonder why!). The whole walk, Mitchell kept saying, “Nope, not Daddy” to every guy he’d see. As soon as he saw Justin, he broke into a grin and sped up. I’m pretty sure the only reason he didn’t start running ahead is because the whole past day and a half he’d only heard “Stay next to me” or “Hold the suitcase” over and over. Justin picked him up and they shared the most adorable half-crying hug I’ve ever seen. I really wish I’d had my phone out to take a picture. I almost cried.

I wasn’t surprised to find that my checked bag hadn’t made the connection. I could barely keep track of my connections, I really didn’t expect them to either. Delta had no record of the bag being put into their possession, and apparently United didn’t have record of it either. But I was so exhausted I didn’t even care. Sure, every pair of jeans but the ones I was wearing were in there, and most of my shirts, too, but I couldn’t think of anything but a shower, which doesn’t require clothes.

As soon as we got home, I ran for the shower. I was so grimy and disgusting I didn’t even want to sit on the couch. While playing with Rosie on the floor, I dozed off. While sitting on the couch, I dozed off. We all ended up going to sleep at about 8. Mitchell slept for 12 hours, I slept for 14 hours, and Rosie slept for 15 hours. And we’re still exhausted. I’m so physically sore I can’t describe it. My legs hurt, my back hurts, my shoulders hurt. It turns out that, even when I wasn’t wearing the 40+ pound backpack, I was still carrying a 15 pound baby. 90% of the time the sling was supporting her weight, but even that takes a toll after a while, and after all was said and done, I carried her for 24 hours straight (other than a few diaper changes). I was awake for over 36 hours straight. I stood for the majority of the time, even overnight, so I could sway and keep Rosie content and chase Mitchell. I was constantly on edge, because who wouldn’t be with a toddler and a baby in an airport? I was terrified that he’d run off and I’d lose him. That was why I didn’t want to fly in the first place, and then I had to endure 24 hours of watching him like a hawk. We lived on airport food for three meals, and it just isn’t the healthiest (or the cheapest…again, thanks for the voucher, United). Justin and I were talking about the air show this weekend and I almost had a panic attack. I have no idea when, or if, I’ll fly again. Almost all the workers I talked to about this ordeal made it sound like it was par for the course. I just wanted to say, yes, for adults, it’s a pain in the butt, but I had two children. I had a toddler and a five-month-old. On my own. You can look at that picture of Mitchell sleeping on the airport bench and feel good about what you said to me, United? How about the picture of him the next morning, after only five hours of sleep?

Whatever. It’s over now. We’re home. Thank goodness! And Justin has done everything in his power to make us comfortable and happy. Oh, and my bag finally made it to us!

By themagnificentms

The Big Trip!

Well, as you may have noticed from my complete absence, we’ve been gone! The kids and I just returned from what was supposed to be 8 days in Kansas. Justin stayed here and did that whole work thing. And apparently cleaning thing! He even vacuumed the upstairs!

Our plane left for Kansas at about 4. I was so extremely nervous. I had no idea what to expect from Mitchell or Rosie. I read lots of pointers on what to do to keep them entertained and make the traveling easier, some of which proved true, some of which…not so much.

Know what WASN’T one of the pointers? Talking to your kids about their daddy staying in Ohio while they go to Kansas with you. I accidentally dropped that on Mitchell right outside security. Yeah…he all of a sudden got a whole lot less enthusiastic about going on an airplane. But luckily that didn’t last long.


I tried to travel light: a backpack for me, a backpack for Mitchell, wheeled carry-on luggage, and Mitchell’s car seat strapped to the carry-on. We borrowed Colton’s car seat for Rosie. Can you tell just how nervous I am in that picture? Hopefully not. I was trying to fake it for the kids. But holy crap was I nervous.

Turns out I didn’t need to be. We went through the TSA pre-check lane, so the only thing I had to do was unstrap Mitchell’s car seat from the carry-on. Other than that, we all just walked right through, easy peasy. We paused to fill up a water bottle for Mitchell (thanks, internet pointers!) and made it to our gate with plenty of time to spare. Thanks to story time earlier that day, Mitchell pointed out all the trucks putting gas in the airplanes and all the other passengers gawked at how adorable these two were.

When we got on the plane, I started getting ready to nurse Rosie as we took off. I’d read that it would help with the ear popping. Mitchell got tootsie rolls. Something I hadn’t planned on: having to take the ring sling completely off. I thought I’d just have to loosen it so she wasn’t strapped to me. But no, it had to come completely off. Which meant I had no cover. I apologized profusely to the woman across the aisle, but she assured me it wasn’t an issue, she’d been there. I noticed she looked a little nervous for the flight, though, and I’m pretty sure by the end of the flight she was wishing she hadn’t sat next to us. We taxied out to the runway and had to sit there for probably ten or fifteen minutes waiting our turn. The whole time we were waiting, Mitchell asked non-stop “Airplane has gas? Gas in airplane? GAS?!” I watched the lady’s hands slowly turn white from clenching the arm rest so hard. Once we started taking off, Mitchell kept asking, “Airplane go high? High in sky? Airplane so high!” And almost immediately afterward, “Airplane go back down!” Nope, not yet, child. “GO BACK DOWN!” No. Not yet. But, eventually, he pulled out his own airplane and started playing. Rosie entertained herself by chewing.

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Our connecting flight was in Chicago, and we had an hour and fifteen minutes layover and only had to go one concourse over, so I figured we were golden. Yeah…wrong. It turns out a toddler only has one speed, regardless of those awesome “escalators”. I grabbed some chicken nuggets for him at McDonald’s (his first time there!), didn’t even stay to eat them, and only arrived at our gate with five minutes to spare.


Rosie was awake for the entire plane ride to Chicago, so for the trek across the airport she slept. And then woke up in time for our flight. Convenient.


So, for our next flight, I followed one of those internet pointers and snagged seats at the back of the plane so fewer people would see me nurse Rosie. This turned out to be the worst piece of advice I received. Because, while I was at the back of the plane, well out of the way of everyone else, I was also right next to the bathroom, so as soon as the seat belt light went off, a line formed. Right. Next. To. Me. The flight attendant, who had just told me all the reasons she hated her job and not to nurse Rosie because of all the perverts and creeps, shooed as many people toward the first class bathroom as possible, but one guy pointedly wouldn’t go. But I really couldn’t be bothered to care. Rosie was hungry, I covered as well as I could, and there was really not a lot I could do about it, so why waste time worrying about it?

The second flight went well too. Each child had about five minutes of fussy, which of course coincided, so the guy in front of Mitchell got kicked for a few minutes while I calmed Rosie down, then we read books and everything went swimmingly again.

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As soon as we landed, it was diaper change time since we hadn’t had time in Chicago. Then we found Grandpa and got the heck on the road! Since the flights went so darn well, our bad luck caught up with us as soon as Grandpa started his car and the air conditioning blew. Literally, blew. So, no air conditioning for the trip home. Both kids fell asleep within a few miles, but Rosie woke up after half an hour and screamed the rest of the way home.


We stopped to try to calm her down about halfway, but it didn’t do any good. She showed up to Aunt Brooke’s wearing nothing but a diaper and covered in red splotches from screaming so much. Way to make a good first impression!

The first day, Mitchell and Colton played very nicely together.


Unfortunately, that didn’t last. Mitchell turned into a total turd for the rest of the trip. I have no idea what happened. A couple weeks ago, if someone had told me Mitchell pushed their child, I would have said they were mistaken. But no. Mitchell pushed him. Plenty of times. Meh.

Both of my kids hate naps. Hate. But the entire time we were in Kansas, there were no fights, and every nap time looked like this:


Thursday we all went to Topeka to see Justin’s family. Mitchell got to play with his daddy’s old Legos, which he loved way more than the approximately 547 Mega Blocks he’s accumulated here at home. Everyone oohed and aahed over Rosie, because, you know, she’s adorable.

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Friday was a low-key day, but we did visit the park with Aunt Kaylee and Aunt Teri. Mitchell met AUNT TIGGY JEEP, and for the entire rest of the trip he shouted “Aunt Tiggy Jeep!” every time he saw a Jeep. Once, in Dairy Queen, a woman looked sufficiently like Teri that he almost cried when he saw her get out of a Jeep and walk into the DQ. He also became obsessed with Aunt Brooke’s car. He liked it a lot better than my car and got so excited whenever it was time to put his shoes on and would start yelling, “Aunt Brooke’s car?”

Saturday was Colton’s birthday party. Thank goodness, this was one day that Mitchell decided to behave himself. Other than displaying his new love of throwing rocks in any body of water he could find (thanks, Grandpa). He kept sneaking off to a giant puddle off to the side of the house to throw rocks and sticks in it.

Saturday night, we went to Manhattan for a friend’s birthday party. Mitchell stole his daughter’s little Cozy Coupe car as soon as we got there and proceeded drive it off their deck, over and over again. It was only about a foot drop off the edge, but it kept rolling partly onto its top. You’d think that’d scare a kid, right? But no. At least, not enough to make him stop. He also managed eight or nine wedges of watermelon through a combination of asking for more from different people and just crawling up onto the pub height table and getting them for himself. Then he convinced another friend’s daughter to push him in the car, and every time they turned, they flipped the car. The first time, he allowed me to pull him out. Every subsequent time, he waved me away. Showing off for the women already.

Sunday, we all met at the church so everyone could meet Rosie. It was so great seeing everyone! Rosie slept through most of it, and Mitchell locked himself in the play room and got very angry at all the pictures, but still. A fun time was had by all.

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Monday and Tuesday were pretty low-key also. We went and played with Jamie and Jameson, and ate at the bar several times.

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Mitchell was exhausted at this point. I found himself laying in bed at one point, then he moved to the living room. To lay under the rug.


Finally, Wednesday had arrived. We were all sad to leave Kansas, but definitely excited to see Justin. Poor Mitchell had been asking to go home and see Daddy. I wasn’t nervous at all about the flight, because the first had gone so well. The only thing I was nervous about was the lateness of the house.

Great-Grandma came to say goodbye, which was rough.

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While packing, I had made a stack of all the ziploc bags their clothes had been in (super organization – each outfit was in a labeled ziploc bag…until TSA got hold of them). Mitchell kept slipping on them, and then finally said to hell with it and I caught him throwing them all away.


Of course, the last two hours we were at Aunt Brooke’s, Mitchell and Colton decided they liked each other and played ridiculously well together. They were playing with ball pit balls in a big tub, and every time Mitchell would bend over into it, Colton would try to depants him. He even succeeded a couple times! I was almost laughing too hard to get a picture.


Finally, we were ready for our great escape. Which is a whole other story in itself.

By themagnificentms

Mommy Fail Weekend

We just concluded what will probably go down in history as the Great Mommy Fail Weekend. It started on Friday, when I dropped the car off at Sear’s at about 9:45 for an oil change and to get a tire fixed. All we needed to do was find Mitchell a backpack of his own to take on the airplane with us. We stayed at the play area as long as Mitchell wanted, then ate lunch, and finally at 12:30 they called and said they’d gotten the oil changed. Still waiting on everything else. I reminded her that I was towing a toddler and an infant around the mall and would appreciate any rush they could do for me. We wandered around for another hour, at which point Mitchell was DONE with the mall. He kept asking to go home. I called Sear’s and was told that they were performing a test to find an antifreeze leak. I asked them to stop because, seriously, we were SO OVER the mall. He said he’d call me back when they got the car down. At 2:30! FIVE HOURS! Carrying around Rosie and the worst diaper bag I’ve ever had (definitely returned that). Mitchell was pretty upset with me. But we did get a backpack for Mitchell! Mitchell was so excited when we got home. He asked me to put Rosie in his bag, but of course I said no, so he carried his baby around and told me to carry Rosie around.


And, because he’s decided he no longer naps, this was Mitchell by that evening:


So. Moving on. Saturday, I bribed Mitchell with a visit to the new water park if he didn’t have an accident in his pants all day. The forecast called for mid-80s. We planned on getting to the park at noon when it opened. At 1, we pulled out of the house and headed toward the park. One of the upsides about a garage is that you don’t have to deal with the weather trying to get to your car. One of the downsides of having a garage, apparently, is that you don’t catch sight of the weather before you get in the car. So I didn’t understand the empty parking lot when we got to the park. Or the empty water park. Yeah…turns out it was only 70 degrees.


Mitchell didn’t care. We stayed, since we figured it would warm up. We were wrong. I finally called the trip off when Mitchell was shivering so badly he could barely walk.

We got home, and Mitchell refused to nap. I wasn’t surprised. Afterward, we decided to run out to the Strawberry Festival in one of the suburbs around here. Justin swears he told me before we left that each year over 100,000 people attend the festival, but I don’t remember that. And the only thing that mattered to Mitchell was that he got to ride a “BIG yellow school bus”. I cried seeing him get on the big yellow school bus wearing his backpack. Seriously. It killed me. He looked so darn grown-up but so darn small, all at the same time.


Rosie was so ready for the strawberry festival!


However, remember how I said the forecast for earlier in the day was for the mid-80s? Yeah. It got there. While we were at the Strawberry Festival, crammed into those streets like sardines with all 100,000 other participants. We walked around trying to find the famous strawberry donuts, only to find one stall closed and the other stall had an hour-long wait. So, no strawberry donuts. Just a terribly overpriced bratwurst because that was the stall with the shortest line.

After that, we were pretty done with the Festival. Luckily it was 8 and the Festival was closing, so we didn’t have to come up with some excuse to run away. We got back on theĀ shuttle BIG yellow school bus and…CUE THE MOST ADORABLE THING I’VE EVER SEEN. The entire ride, Rosie was lunging for Mitchell. She kept getting this huge grin on her face and trying to grab his face. It was the best thing I’ve ever experienced. All the people on the bus behind us were laughing and saying just how adorable they were, and I tried to be gracious and say “thank you” instead of “I KNOW!”

I couldn’t get a very good picture of it, but hopefully this gives you some idea of the level of adorable going on here.

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And then, since he hadn’t napped that day, this was Mitchell at about 9:00:


Have I mentioned how great Mitchell’s doing with his speech? His new adjective is “big”. Everything is big. BIG car. BIG yellow bus. BIG pee. And the other day he started with “all day”. “Baby night night ALL DAY.” “Ya no poop ALL DAY.” Today he started saying “did”. If I ask if he peed, he goes and picks up the potty and goes, “Hmm. Yep, Ya did.” God forbid I argue, because then I get, “Ya DID pee! Ya DID!” Oh yeah. He’s shortened his name to just Ya. We’re getting a few short sentences, and the best part is that he’s reading books to himself. Obviously not really reading, just repeating, but he has three books pretty much memorized: Sheep in a Jeep, Pout Pout Fish, and Brown Bear Brown Bear. Overhearing him read them to himself is one of my favorite things.

By themagnificentms

Happy 20 weeks, Rosie, and Happy naked time, Mitchell!

Rosie is TWENTY WEEKS OLD (as of a few days ago).


I’m so terrible at posting these things on time right now. Seriously, ever heard the expression “running around like a chicken with its head cut off”? That’s me. Mitchell’s potty training (again, still, whatever). Rosie has decided she is NOT to be left alone in a room, and she also won’t stay anywhere you put her. That’s right, she’s a roller! We got the belly to back a while ago, but now she’s going back to belly! It’s mostly angry rolls, like, “WHERE DID YOU GO, MOMMY?! I DON’T CARE IF EVERYBODY IN THE HOUSE NEEDS DINNER, I NEED YOU HERE!” or “SOPHIE! WHERE IS MY SOPHIE! WHO PUT IT OFF TO MY SIDE?!” But every once in a while (like right now) she just contentedly rolls around the floor, grabbing very non-baby-friendly Hot Wheels along her way. Seriously, how in the world do you make a house toddler-friendly and baby-proof at the same time? I don’t think it’s possible.


So, like I said, Mitchell is potty training still/again/WILL IT EVER END. This time around, he’s decided he needs to be naked. And that the whole neighborhood needs to see it. I mentioned to the neighbor that we were potty training the other day and she went “Oooooh, that’s why he’s naked!” To be clear, he wasn’t with me at the time. But when this is one of his favorite stances, it’s no surprise that he’s probably known as “The Naked Boy” around town.


He also decided that Baby needs to use the potty, too.


Of course, he got Baby’s M&Ms.

By themagnificentms