Wordless Wednesday~ A lesson in independence.

Place the most precious thing in the entire universe on moving horse, maintaining vice like grip.
Begin journey: up and down, round and round.

No need to guess who the photographer was. 

Suddenly the most precious thing in the universe no longer wishes to be held on to. 
Could he really be ready? I know I am not.


I guess the lesson is really for me, not him. 
Give them wings and all that, right? 
Advertisements

Wordless Wednesday~ A lesson in independence.

Place the most precious thing in the entire universe on moving horse, maintaining vice like grip.
Begin journey: up and down, round and round.

No need to guess who the photographer was. 

Suddenly the most precious thing in the universe no longer wishes to be held on to. 
Could he really be ready? I know I am not.


I guess the lesson is really for me, not him. 
Give them wings and all that, right? 

Daylight Savings tips for toddlers

Before I had one of these running around:

I never thought that Daylight Savings time was a big deal. Spring forward? Cool, one extra hour to sleep in. Fall back? Well, I’d just have to drag my sorry booty to class ‘early’ for a few days until I got used to it or, more likely, oversleep. Hmmm. Why didn’t I finish that Anthropology degree again?

But now that the wee one is here I see just how the panic rises as the date moves closer and threatens the holiest of holies: the sleep schedule.

Daylight Savings is one hour to be fretted over, dreaded, and dare I say it – feared?

Fear no longer, mothers of the world (for I know it is by and large YOU that handle the havoc that is wrecked upon our (non) sleeping babes), I have found the answer.

GO TO HAWAII!!! 

What’s one measly hour to a toddler? pffft. Nothing. Let’s talk about six. Six hour difference…and then oh! let’s toss in a spring forward just for fun, k?

Perhaps you think I jest, but I do not!
Day one: fly to Los Angeles from Washington, D.C., giving baby a smack of 3 hours difference. Whoohooo!!! We landed at 10 p.m.- 1 a.m. for the kiddo. Kid will be so jacked up and wiggly from being contained in a flying tube of steel that he will race around the apartment until midnight LA time…THREE A.M. D.C. time. *sigh*

Day two: Toddler will sleep until around 10 a.m. LA time, suhweet! Naptime…if he will do it, at 2 p.m., then bed at 10…progress y’all!
Day three: Toddler up at 8 a.m. LA time~ no nap, as we are off to Hawaii!!! Kid up till midnight again…which is now 3 a.m. LA time, and 6 a.m. DC time. (*note, mothers are allowed a small sob fest due to extreme exhaustion)
Day four: HAWAII! Kid sleeps til 9 a.m. Hawaii time…thank.God. Refuses nap, preferring to hold concert in lobby:

Then passes out in the lobby mid guitar strum.

Bedtime @ 10:30 p.m. not perfect, but we’ll take it!

Day 5 officially on Hawaii time! Although refuses to sleep in hotel provided crib, insisting on sharing bed with Daddy. (Mommy thanks heaven for two separate beds in the room! whoohoo!)

Day 6…Daylight Savings time. I loathe you.

Then before you know it, it’s back to Los Angeles; and we start all over again!
Day one, bedtime 12:30 a.m. *yawn*
Day two: sleeps til 10:30 a.m. and refuses nap, fights bedtime, finally collapsing in the cutest little heap ever at 10:30 p.m.

Day three….I’ll let you know. But one little hour doesn’t seem so bad now does it.

So, I say if you must battle the time change, you should all do it in:

HAWAII!
Go for it, for while the time change may be a struggle, you will be struggling in paradise. And the pina coladas don’t hurt either!

** Thank you all for your sweet tweets/comments/emails about the little ones face. A few days of hydrocortizone and it is on the ment. Still there, but barely noticible.I appreciate your concern.

Daylight Savings tips for toddlers

Before I had one of these running around:

I never thought that Daylight Savings time was a big deal. Spring forward? Cool, one extra hour to sleep in. Fall back? Well, I’d just have to drag my sorry booty to class ‘early’ for a few days until I got used to it or, more likely, oversleep. Hmmm. Why didn’t I finish that Anthropology degree again?

But now that the wee one is here I see just how the panic rises as the date moves closer and threatens the holiest of holies: the sleep schedule.

Daylight Savings is one hour to be fretted over, dreaded, and dare I say it – feared?

Fear no longer, mothers of the world (for I know it is by and large YOU that handle the havoc that is wrecked upon our (non) sleeping babes), I have found the answer.

GO TO HAWAII!!! 

What’s one measly hour to a toddler? pffft. Nothing. Let’s talk about six. Six hour difference…and then oh! let’s toss in a spring forward just for fun, k?

Perhaps you think I jest, but I do not!
Day one: fly to Los Angeles from Washington, D.C., giving baby a smack of 3 hours difference. Whoohooo!!! We landed at 10 p.m.- 1 a.m. for the kiddo. Kid will be so jacked up and wiggly from being contained in a flying tube of steel that he will race around the apartment until midnight LA time…THREE A.M. D.C. time. *sigh*

Day two: Toddler will sleep until around 10 a.m. LA time, suhweet! Naptime…if he will do it, at 2 p.m., then bed at 10…progress y’all!
Day three: Toddler up at 8 a.m. LA time~ no nap, as we are off to Hawaii!!! Kid up till midnight again…which is now 3 a.m. LA time, and 6 a.m. DC time. (*note, mothers are allowed a small sob fest due to extreme exhaustion)
Day four: HAWAII! Kid sleeps til 9 a.m. Hawaii time…thank.God. Refuses nap, preferring to hold concert in lobby:

Then passes out in the lobby mid guitar strum.

Bedtime @ 10:30 p.m. not perfect, but we’ll take it!

Day 5 officially on Hawaii time! Although refuses to sleep in hotel provided crib, insisting on sharing bed with Daddy. (Mommy thanks heaven for two separate beds in the room! whoohoo!)

Day 6…Daylight Savings time. I loathe you.

Then before you know it, it’s back to Los Angeles; and we start all over again!
Day one, bedtime 12:30 a.m. *yawn*
Day two: sleeps til 10:30 a.m. and refuses nap, fights bedtime, finally collapsing in the cutest little heap ever at 10:30 p.m.

Day three….I’ll let you know. But one little hour doesn’t seem so bad now does it.

So, I say if you must battle the time change, you should all do it in:

HAWAII!
Go for it, for while the time change may be a struggle, you will be struggling in paradise. And the pina coladas don’t hurt either!

** Thank you all for your sweet tweets/comments/emails about the little ones face. A few days of hydrocortizone and it is on the ment. Still there, but barely noticible.I appreciate your concern.

Dads are from Mars, Moms are from Guilt-upiter.

We are back on the Mainland (do I sound like an Islander? I’ve giving it a whirl, but I don’t think it’s working, I feel like a poser. Oh wait, I totally am!) I could have stayed in Oahu forever, but we did get to scratch all our ‘must-do’s” and “must-buys” off of our list so yay us! I hula’d and Zach surfed and Max swam in the wa-wa, blew our minds learning a ton of new words and signs, and took a ‘tar lesson, I would give this trip an A-.

 It would be an A + except for the fact that I failed as a mother.

*sigh*

The day after the beautiful wedding of Danny and Tim we all headed out to Hanauma Bay to snorkel (a must do on the ol’ bucket list) and despite keeping Max under a near constant mister of 10000 spf, he still got a sunburn. I got crazy burned, but what else is new. Big deal…but the baby getting sunburned? Total heart attack – I want-to-kill-myself-mom-failure.
He wasn’t so much sunburned as sunkissed. Whatever you call it, he was a loverly shade of pink which only adds to the whole pudgy pigletness of him.

I swoon for that piglet.

Once he was stripped of his swimsuit and the beach was washed away, I basically freaked. It became increasingly clear that moms and dads just deal with things differently. Not that dads don’t care; but it’s just a boatload of difference. It went a bit like this:

Me: Oh no! Max has a little sunburn!
Zach: Oh, poor dude.
Me: Oh my God, how could this happen? I sprayed him constantly and put extra stuff on his face! My poor baby! He’s so pink. We need some aloe. We have to get some aloe, we need it rightthisveryminute! Do you want to go or should I?
Zach: (turning on CNN) eh.
Me: ok, I’ll go. Keep an eye on him. Do you think we should give him some Tylenol? Do you think he hurts?
Zach: he’s ok, he’s barely pink!
Me: I’ll be right back.

At which point I race down to the hotel gift shop and practically assault the poor, sweet, 19 year old girl working behind the counter.

Me: Do you have Aloe? I need some Aloe, my baby has a suburn!
Her: Yeah sure, here you go.
Me: Do you maybe have one of those little whip things? You know the ones the Priests use to punish themselves? Like the Davinci Code?
Her: uh…we have a feathered gord for hula dancing.
Me: Can I beat myself up with that? Because I am like theworstmothereverandIletmybabygetsunburned.
Her: ummm, I don’t think so. It’s for dancing.
Me: What about a stamp that I could put smack dab on my forhead, that like says MOM FAIL or something? Oh! Or a T-shirt that says it. Like a scarlet letter of motherhood failure, to let everyone know how awful I am as like part of some pennance?
Her: We have conch shell necklaces.

She was right. That would be worse than a scarlet letter or a mom fail stamp across my forhead. *shudder* I couldn’t bring myself to suffer the necklace of 1987 coolness and thus resolved to continue the (not so) silent berating of myself for being the worst.mother.ever. ™.

Also, I made up all of that conversation past “do you have Aloe?” and” yeah, here you go.”

But I felt it. I felt his sunburn as an utter failure. My husband? Well, he was obviously (and appropriately I might add) concerned but it didn’t mark a complete failure of his skills in the fathering department.

And here’s something they never tell you: your sweet baby might be allergic to a certain kind of sunblock. It might make his face red. You might then surmise that he is getting sun and apply more of it, until you realize it is not a burn, or a ‘heat rash’ as everyone is so quick to dismiss it, but in actuality a bad reaction to something you have been purposely applying to your child. Repeatedly.

I’ll take that conch shell necklace now. Mea Culpa.
this hurts my soul.

ALOHA! That’s Princess Kikipania to you!

It’s no skin off my nose that Port Charles has totally lagged on setting up my Embassy and my diplomatic immunity (no stripper killing for me. *sigh*) ( also, I do not in any way sanction killing strippers, or anyone really. Just for the record.). Because this week I am abandoning the fictional city for the real life heaven of Hawaii. Waikiki to be specific.
We’ve been here less than 24 hours and it’s like a dream world. The flight with the toddler tyrant was long, but good and from the moment we landed there’s been some sort of Fairy Godmother following me about.
As soon as I turned on my phone *brrrrrrring* (that’s the fairy godmother’s wand waving sound FYI) tweets and emails galore alerting me that this lil old blog is in the Fashion and Style section of the New York Times.
Let’s just have an SATC Charlotte York moment for that. Or maybe it’s a Carrie Bradshaw moment, since it’s about writing and since the humidity has my hair more SJP than usual. Whatever, I can float on that for ages kids.
We arrive at the Sheraton Waikiki *brrrrring* room upgraded. Ocean view. Holy Buckets! (LENT!) It’s straight out of a movie. I’ve never seen such beautiful water…and turtles. Just big old sea turtles hanging out. I’m in love.

I am now fully ensconced in pretending this is my every day life. Forget Madame Ambassador (for now), I’ve moved on to Island Princess Kikipania (my name in Hawaiian. Its so much cooler in Hawaiin, non?)

I am also thinking of rocking the flower in the hair look on the regular. Specifically at innapropriate times. Like the next big blizzard in D.C. you’ll just see me cruising about with a hibiscus tucked behind my ear. Flowers in the hair is the Hawaiian tiara. I am an equal opportunity tiara employer.

My feet have only touched the ground twice, an astonishingly gross blowout a’la toddler booty, and while sampling some of the local food at Cheesecak Factory (HA!) they served this vegetarian chicken in in my salad. That’ll learn me!

 Rolled out of bed to this *brrrrrring*
A room with a view, dude.

Then like magic, *brrrrring* coffee and breakfast arrived. Is it just me or are the bananas here crazy delicious? They’re like dessert bananas. And don’t get me started on the pineapple…swoon.

This would be just one of the pools. *brrrring*
Pool ends, ocean begins. Beautiful.
It’s not just a magical land for me thus far. There’s a real live Ukele store here in the Sheraton, and those cats took the time to show Max a few more moves and encourage his ‘atar’ love even more. Yes. We bought one. And a spare.
*brrrring*
Thank you to the Sheraton Waikiki for allowing the little dude to hold am impromptu concert in the lobby.
We had a quick run through for Danny and Tim’s wedding tomorrow:
*brrrring*
And now here I sit, in the lobby enjoying my soy latte and free internet and computer access while the breeze wafts through.
*brrrrring*
It’s like they knew I was coming and planned accordingly.
And now if you’ll excuse me, we are off to feed some Koi.