A little overdue – our St. Louis trip

A few weeks ago, I posted about my angst about our upcoming road trip to St. Louis. Obviously we lived to tell about it, and it really wasn’t even as awful as I had predicted!

We were so nervous about Sammy screaming the whole time that we went to Babies R Us and bought one of everything.
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As you can see, it worked like a charm.
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Actually the ride there wasn’t bad at all… we took the advice of all of you who said to leave early in the morning, and we were on the road by 6:00. He slept a good portion of the ride and we only had to stop twice on the six-hour trip! It could have been so much worse.

When we arrived, we introduced Sammy to his great-grandfather. We were there to celebrate his 99th birthday.
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We visited Grant’s Farm, which is one of the many free family attractions in the city. Kate wanted to go in the petting zoo, so Andy took her (there was no way I was going in there).
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And get this – one of those nasty goats BIT Sammy on the ankle! He was pissed.
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Kate displayed her political tendencies.
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Our kids had interesting sleeping arrangements in the hotel. The last night, Kate decided she wanted to “sleep on the furniture.”
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And Sammy… well, Andy and I were afraid to find out what would happen if he didn’t have his swing. So we just brought it with us. You should have seen the look on the bellman’s face.
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We couldn’t go to STL without taking in a Cardinals game. They lost 11-1. Andy and Kate were not amused.
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And to wrap things up, a mathematical equation… A sleeping four-year-old + last call for beer = this:
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Nancy Drew and the Case of the Mysterious Turd

The last couple of weeks my kids have been sick, and I have been dee-esperate to get out of the house. So I was thrilled last Wednesday when they were well enough to have a re-scheduled playdate with my friend Bethany and her boys Eban, 3, and Benji, 20 months. (Benji and Sophie are only 13 days apart in age! Aww.)

Bethany was kind enough to make lunch for us and after we got the kids settled in the living room with their food, we finally sat down at the kitchen table to eat. After about thirty seconds of adult conversation, Eban entered the room and said four words no mother ever wants to hear.

“Mommy, smell my hand.”

Bethany and I exchanged a “yikes” look. “Why? What’s it smell like?” she asked warily.

“Poop!” Eban replied. (Poop. Of course poop. What else would it be? I think we both knew he wasn’t going to say “lemons” or “roses”.)

With Beth’s next question, “Why does your hand smell like poop?” our quest to solve The Case of the Mysterious Turd began.

“Baby Sophie throw poop at me!” Eban answered cheerfully. Beth and I both jumped up and ran into the living room. I grabbed Sophie and gave her bum a good sniff. Nothing. I peeked inside her diaper. Also nothing. No clues there! “She’s clean!” I exclaimed. Beth did a similar check of Benji’s diaper, which was also turd-negative. Then we noticed a hard, round, black, thing on the floor. Beth moved in for a closer look. “It’s poop!” was her assessment.

Sophie had by this time began rubbing her face all over my chest so I went ahead and nursed her. After Beth’s turd sighting, I lifted Sophie’s hand to my nose. And screamed.

‘Cause it smelled like POOP!!!!!!!!

“She really did throw the poop!” I gasped, horrified. I put an end to our nursing session and ran her to the bathroom to thoroughly wash her hands.

Then Beth and I began re-enacting the Spanish Inquisition on our older boys.

“Where did Sophie get the poop?”
“Joshua did you poop your pants?”
“Eban did you poop your pants?”
How did Sophie get the poop?”
“Where did the poop come from?”
“WHERE WAS THE POOP?”

After many, many, many “no” and “I don’t know”‘s from both boys, Eban told us that Sophie got the poop from his and Benji’s bedroom. Beth was, of course, mortified. “I swear I don’t just have random poop laying around my house!” she said anxiously.

By this time I was well past being horrified and was just cracking up. None of my playdates ever turn out normal! I was just glad Sophie didn’t friggin’ EAT the Turd of Mysterious Origins!!

So, we still have no idea where the turd came from. One of our kids’ rear-ends? Very probable! But Beth did have friends over the night before who changed their son’s diaper in her boys’ bedroom. So the theory we are most comfortable with is that it fell out of his diaper, unnoticed under the dresser or bed and that Eagle-Eye (or Dog-Nose) Sophie found it (like she finds everythings she shouldn’t have everywhere we go.) Because that’s the theory that makes both Beth and I less culpable in the Great Turd-Throwing Incident of 2008.

But who knows? Nancy Drew and her sleluthy pal Bess we aren’t.

We are way, way, hotter than they are though. And funnier. And our set of novels and subsequent movie are gonna rock so hard, Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie will probably become BFF just to play us! Just wait!!

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My love/hate relationship

with Target. Because I love it, but last night I hated it.

Yesterday I read how to score free Pampers diapers and wipes here and since we were headed over toward the mall anyway, I decided to give it a shot. I am no coupon weirdo diva like Jenny, but even I can’t pass up cheap-o diapers and wipes.

Andy was meeting some friends for dinner at an Indian restaurant, but since my idea of ethnic cuisine is Taco Bell, the kids and I dropped him off and headed to Target. But first we had to go through the drive-thru of the world’s most difficultly-located Wendy’s, which is a whole other story.

When we got to Target, Kate decided she must sit in one of those gianormous carts with the two seats attached, so I put Sammy in the big part of the cart and went on my way. After debating for like 20 minutes over whether to get another package of size 2 diapers or stock up on 3s, I decided to check out for the first time. Since one of my coupons was for a $5 gift card when you purchased diapers and wipes, I wanted to get one set, get the gift card, and then go back for more diapers and wipes (and the rest of my stuff) and use the gift card on the next purchase.

So my first transaction (dear Lord I am turning into Jenny) went swimmingly.

After that, I went back to get the second load of Pampers products, and then went to see if there was anything else we desperately needed. After pushing that huge cart all over the store for no particular reason, I decided I’d get the other thing we were there for – bug spray – and then hit the road. Yesterday afternoon, Andy called me at work to tell me that Kate had two huge bug bites, and then he called me five minutes later to tell me that they were even huger (that can’t be a word), so after a consultation from Dr. Grandma, he took her to the pediatrician. She’s fine, but apparently quite allergic to whatever bit her. So anyway, we were on a mission to find this bug spray that the doc said was good to use on kids.

I am a frequent Target shopper and I consider myself pretty well-educated on where the products are located. But I could not find the bug spray. I went up and down the aisles with the sunscreen, the band aids and the tampons. I searched the toothpaste and the hairspray and betwixt the condoms. No bug spray. By this time I was sweating, as all of you who have pushed one of those awful school-bus-sized carts can appreciate. Sweating and cursing. But there was no bug spray. And there were no Target employees in the whole store. They must have all taken one long smoke break or something because I couldn’t find anyone.

On what must have been about my tenth lap around the pharmaceuticals, my phone rang. Andy was done with his curry (or whatever he had) and was ready for me to pick him up.

“Any idea as to where I might find the bug spray?” I said into the phone.

“It’s probably in the area around the pharmacy,” said my ever-helpful husband.

“One would think, but not so much.”

“Well, I’d probably just find someone to ask.”

At this point I threw my phone on the ground and ran it over with my 180-pound cart.

Huffing and puffing, I hauled myself and my two kids up to the check out lanes to ask a cashier. Of course, I asked the 12-year-old girl who must have been ending her first day of work, and she looked like she had never even heard of bug spray, let alone know where it might be located. So she asked another cashier, who looked at me and said “Well, you can try two places. First, look in chemicals, then try seasonal sporting goods.”

Chemicals??? Where is the chemicals section? I have never in my life seen a sign hanging over the aisles that said “chemicals.” Oh, right, over there by the “pipe bomb” section.

So, I trudged all the way to the farthest corner of the store to find the seasonal sporting goods, and wouldn’t you know it, the bug spray was proudly displayed right by the sleeping bags. Just like the sunscreen is located by the swimming suits and the band aids are with the chainsaws. Oh wait, no they’re not!

Finally we were ready to check out. I must say, the kids had been amazing the whole time we were in the store, which was a miracle and definitely a good thing because add a four-year-old fit and a screaming baby into the mix and I would have had to off myself. So anyway, I put my diapers and wipes and peanut butter crackers and that godforesaken bug spray up on the belt and handed my coupons to the cashier, who told me he could not accept them, despite the fact that the girl at the next register had just taken the exact same ones with no problem. I was too exhausted to fight with him about it, so I just said to forget the diapers and wipes and let me have my crackers and g.d. bug spray so I could get out of that flipping store, but I was not pleased.

So Target people, if you are reading this, which I’m sure you are not, please tell me. Why do you create the coupons if you don’t want people to use them?? I am truly curious about this. It’s like Jerry Seinfeld and the rent-a-car. They know how to make the reservation, but not how to keep the reservation, which is really the most important part of the reservation. Target knows how to make the coupons, but not how to take the coupons. Which really pisses me off.

When I finally got back across the street to pick up Andy, I told him my long and drawn-out story, and then said, “I’m not sure why I’m surprised by this. I just read today that lots of people were having trouble with Target taking coupons.”

“Is that right?” my husband said distractedly.

“Yeah,” I replied. “The coupon ladies said they were going to boycott Target.”

Andy looked at me with an anxious, hopeful expression.

“But I am not going to go that far.”

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