Hide & Seek

Isaac's really into playing hide & go seek right now. It's not like it's a hard game, especially as soon as you say I wonder where he could be he jumps out and announces here I am!

But today, I just wasn't feeling it. I wanted to sit for a bit. And I tell him this. But no matter, we're playing.

He announces he will hide first (no surprise there), and I tell him to not go too far--this is a quick game.

His response?

Don't worry mama, I'm just going to hide right here behind the door.

I look at him perplexed, and thankful for the cue, but isn't the game over before we've even begun the pretense that you are actually hiding in a 'good' spot?

Apparently not, as he quickly commands that I begin counting....

Trains, Trains & More Trains

It's no secret that Isaac is into trains...Edie's going to have no choice but to want to play with them too. We're starting her right now.

 

 

An Open Letter To Delta

Dear Delta,

I'd like to say I was surprised when I received an email from you alerting me to a change in my upcoming itinerary. But I wasn't. No, in fact I almost overlooked it--easy to happen given the frequency in which these emails are sent out to alert me that perhaps my flight number has changed, or my flight time has been altered by a minute here, a minute there.

I can't tell you exactly what it was about this particular email that signaled that it contained something important in it, something that would cause my jaw to drop, my blood to boil, my mouth to spew out profanities. But it did.

The email in question informed me that you were deeply sorry for any inconveniences, but you had cancelled my flight and instead put me and mine on one of the worst flights you offer.

Let me refresh your memory on this dear Delta before I get to the part of this letter when I go ahead and call *BS* and accuse you of various things ranging from fraud, bait and switch and other shady business practices for which I am not entirely certain on the correct legalese--but we all know what I'm talking about.

I scoured the 'net finding the perfect flight. The flight/s that would cause the least disruption to a young family traveling with a newborn and a 3.5 year during the holidays. And a pretty penny was spent on this perfect flight--it was selected over cheaper flights that had undesirable arrival/departure times/long layovers.

Yes, Delta, I passed up a chance to get home at 11.30 pm, after a 5 hour layover in Atlanta. I passed that one up and forked over $1687 for a flight that only had a 1 hour layover in Atlanta and brought us home at 7 pm--just in time for my son's bedtime.

SO WHAT KIND OF REACTION DO YOU EXPECT FROM ME WHEN YOU SEND ME AN EMAIL TELLING ME YOU'VE GIVEN US THE BOOT AND PUT US ON THE CRAPPY FLIGHT I DIDN'T WANT IN THE FIRST PLACE?

In case you're not clear Delta, I'm pissed. I'm irate. But I'm also baffled. I'm confused. And I'm challenging you on a few things:

1) Bait & Switch. Prove to me dear Delta that you never meant to sells seats on a more expensive flight and then cancel it for a less desirable flight.

2) Explain to me why I am not being offered a credit/price adjustment. On August 24 at 12 noon, this crappy flight was being sold for less than my original flight. YOU OWE ME THE DIFFERENCE. No, no, I do not care that you are currently selling seats on said crappy flight for $1,800 PER seat. Irrelevant. What is relevant is the price at my time of purchase.

3) You owe me a discounted rate for shipping commerical goods. Confused on this Delta? Well, I'm currently entering into negotiations to beging production of toddler size t-shirts bearing the logo DELTA DID THIS.

See, I'm going to make one for my son--it's a big parental disclaimer. So that when we board our late night flight after spending that long in an airport, EVERYONE on board that plane will understand exactly why my son is bouncing off the walls at 37,000 feet.

It's not MY fault he's been up so long, it's not my fault he's acting up. It's Delta's. Blame them.

So I want you to ship these shirts for me once they arrive--we'll sell them all over the place.

Oh, and you better make sure to alert all the flight attendants to have lots of coupons to be comping people drinks. They're going to need them.

To conclude this open letter dear Delta, I will say, I have found your automated phone system surprisingly easy to use. See, when I being shouting into the phone REPRESENTATIVE, REPRESENTATIVE, REPRESENTATIVE, I am actually immediately connected to one. And everyone I have spoken to has been extremely courteous, albeit, extremely unhelpful given that they are simply reading from a script where they repeat incessantly "I am sorry for your inconvenience."

I am sorry too Delta. I am sorry for myself and that I've allowed your inability to effectively manage your flight timetable to get under my skin. I'm sorry it's come to this, but enough is enough. You've got my credit card on file, I anxiously await the credit I'm owed.

Sincerely,

Disgruntled Passenger heading to MIA

A Chuckle

I'll share with you 2 funny things that came out of Isaac's mouth this weekend.

1)We've been taking walks after dinner to look at the holiday lights around the 'hood...I hold up a pair of loafers for Isaac to put on (I'm really not interested in searching the house for any other pair at this moment). His response to my selection:

What are you daft? I can't wear those shoes.

Um, am I daft? Apparently. And thank you for using such a plesant word to call me crazy.

2)The boy likes blue toilet water. He checks every stall at the gym looking for one that still has blue water from being cleaned. I figure I can help him out at home and make the bathroom be fun again (currently he's petrified that a Ghost Engine is hiding behind the curtain and needs us to escort him to the potty. Ghost Engine? In the loo? I don't think so).

Anyway, I buy some of those blue drop ins for the toilet bowl. He thinks it cool & I don't have to see how dirty the toilet actually is. We all win.

So I turn the water blue and wait for him to discover it on his own. I hear him shouting with excitement, he comes running to find me and shouts:

Mama, mama, the toilet has beautiful blue water. Beautiful blue just like your eyes.

Well, how sweet. You see toilet water and think of me. A woman can't ask for more than that can she?

Who Follows Directions?

You cannot imagine the delight I experienced yesterday when I pulled in the drive and saw a bright orange and white polka dot package on the door step from LittleMissMatched.

Like a child on Christmas morning, I bring it into the house, barely able to contain my enthusiam at seeing which one of you can follow directions and order Edie a kimono.

I really had it pegged at a Grandma or Aunt Andrea. Instead I was pleasantly surprised that my dear friend Laura G came through and sent Edie the outfit I so desired.

I immediately change Edie's clothes so we can see how darling she looks. See for yourself, she puts their child model to shame.

 

My husband is not amused by this outfit at all. He's perplexed why on earth I'd want to dress dear Edie as a clown. It is important to remember however that 1) my husband is color blind and 2) he obviously has no taste.

So in the meantime, she'll be wearing this kimono until it's bursting at the seams--because it makes me happy. Laura's made me happy and we all know, if "Mama's happy, everyone's happy."

Packer Tutu...Um, Yeah

So I can't stop making tutus. Yes, you did read that right.

It's really brainless and I can do it with a glass of wine in hand. I'm making flower clips, hair bows; you name it, me & the glue gun are friends these days.

Pictures don't do this tutu justice. Neither does my uncooperative child model. No one sees a picture of a tutu and wants to buy it, you want one when you see it in person.

This one is over the top, triple layered with over 225 FEET of tulle, and featuring a detachable coordinating hair clip.

If she doesn't love it, then there is just something wrong with her. There's no other explanation.

Unless of course, her family members are no longer Packer fans. Then, well nothing can be done for that.

 

 

 

 

Nutball Dog & The Art Of Aging

Lucy's almost 9. Might not sound like much to you, but she's got a life expectancy of 12 years. And you know the last 1-2 aren't going to be the pretty ones, the ones we'll remember when we think of her.

And we've already started slowly moving downhill. She's not my running partner anymore--unless I want an excuse to stop after 1 mile; she's not got the same spring in her step; and she's become a nutball.

How so you wonder? Cardboard & plastic are fair game for her now. Anything left on the floor in the toy room is up for grabs--what an incentive for Isaac to pick up his toys!! What a disaster for him to discover something has been chewed.

And how odd, given that Lucy has never been a chewer/destroyer before.

Around 4 pm she starts becoming very very needy concerning her food dish. No amount of food could satisfy her...because she's not eating. She's just "Lassie-ing" you to get you to fill it up, fill it up, fill it up. She's hoarding.

She's constantly under foot, and I'm lucky I haven't broken my leg tripping over her.

And the kicker of this all, she doesn't deserve any of my shortness with her. She is a good, sweet, wonderful dog. She deserves in her old age to be treated with respect and kindness. She deserves compassion and someone looking out for her, making her last years as happy as they can be.

As I'm sharing my frustrations about her and the guilt I have over how crappy it makes me feel when I holler at her with Mr. A, he just comments

I hope Isaac & Edie aren't having a conversation like this about us in 50 years.

Ah....