Not my brightest parenting moment

Ah, toddlers. Who doesn't have the fondest of memories about the temper tantrums, the bedtime battles, the time your kid locked himself in the vault at city hall. Wait, what? Oh yeah, it happened.

On this fateful day, I had both boys with me as I ran into city hall for one quick thing.  As I looked at a computer, FunnyKid ran down a long (fun-looking) ramp next to me that went into the big vault full of city records. Then he ran back up and we headed to the desk to speak to an employee.

As I began speaking to the woman and FunnyBoy began fussing, FunnyKid (the 2.5 year old) saw his opportunity and took off to run back down the ramp into the vault. I picked up the baby carrier and was not too far behind him, telling him to turn around and come back. As I got to the bottom of the ramp, FunnyKid gave me a sly grin... and knocked closed a glass door at the entrance to the vault (a door with no purpose I could figure out since the vault also had one of those huge metal vault doors).

Seeing no knob on the outside of the glass door (just a keyhole), I immediately turned around and went back  to the employee I had been speaking with. "I'm really sorry, but my son just locked himself in the vault. Could you please get the key for the glass door?"

"Uh, I don't think we have a key for that door," the woman replied.

That's when I began to panic. Running back to the door, I smiled and urged FunnyKid to turn the locking mechanism on his side of the glass. Having fun playing our game, the poor kid tried to turn the lock, but wasn't strong enough. Standing there with a toy train in either hand, he watched as two different employees with two different keys each arrived and failed to unlock the door.

That's when a woman in a really nice outfit came rushing down and decided she was going to try to slide under the door (oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the glass door didn't go all the way to the top or the bottom of the door frame, making it even more useless and more confusing about what it was even there for). Despite the panic rising in my chest, that part was kind of funny because the poor, professionally-dressed woman had no chance of fitting through the couple of inches of space beneath the door, but she pressed herself to the floor and tried.

The ending of this story is a little anti-climatic: no firefighters rushing through the door for a dramatic rescue, no having to tell FunnyKid to go hide in the corner while a police officer shot through the door. Nope. Instead, we got FunnyKid to lay down on his side of the door and I reached under and slid him out.

Then we threw some more apologies around and ran out the door while the employees were making phone calls to see if anyone in city hall had a key to the door. In the aftermath, I felt ashamed that FunnyKid was able to get that far away from me and cause some mischief, but I also started to get kind of angry that a city office didn't have a key to the mystery door in its vault. I can think of a couple of (unlikely) scenarios in which that door could swing closed and need to be reopened. In any case, it's a funnier story than the battle FunnyKid and I fought over naptime this afternoon, and if I have to be embarrassed or admit some parenting failures, at least I want a funny story out of it.

That "Super Nanny" technique where you put the kid back into bed again and again again? It's exhausting.

Last week, for various reasons, we decided it was time to move FunnyKid out of crib and into his new, twin bed. Not only that, but he was moving out of the nursery into a bigger bedroom (where, although he was only slightly impressed, he found a train table waiting to be played with).

After a few nights of me sitting in his room for two hours putting him back into bed again and again and again and again (and again) until he wore himself out and fell asleep, I was ready to throw in the towel. I called up a bunch of my mom friends and cried, "What are we doing wrong?" And the answers were plentiful... and not at all hopeful.

Basically, they all described the transition from crib to bed as one of the worst times of their lives and all said it would take weeks of tears (mine) and sleeplessness (mine and FunnyKid's) to get it to stick. So, we pulled ourselves up by our boot straps... and decided to take a break.

We moved the crib into the new room to give FunnyKid a chance to acclimate to the new room and decided we would try the bed again next week. The best nephews in the world (and an awesome niece) are in town this week, FunnyKid turns two later this week and we just thought it was a little too much excitement to throw a bed transition into the mix.

So, FunnyKid went to bed in his crib the first night... and the second night. And the third night, he climbed into bed, yelled for about two minutes and then went right to sleep! Worried it was a fluke, I didn't have much hope for nap time yesterday, but he did it. He actually played quietly for an hour in his room then climbed into bed, pulled a blanket up over him and conked out. And last night took a minute of yelling at the gate across his doorway before he got back into bed and promptly fell asleep.

What?!? The Pretend Husband and I keep looking at each other saying, "How did we get so lucky?" We're guessing he was just ready after having some time to acclimate to his new surroundings and the idea he can get out of bed if he wants to. It's tough to declare anything truly, finally "done" with a toddler, but I'm going to venture onto a limb here and say we (and he) did it.

I'm not just writing this all out to brag (although, if I may, my kid is pretty stinking awesome!) but to give other parents hope. While every one of your friends and family members will tell you how terrible the transition is-- and it usually is-- there are always the exceptions. And you might join us in being lucky enough to be one of them (fingers crossed).

Four weeks in the Renaissance will give you such a crick in the neck...

I totally stole that from Alladin. You caught me. But in truth, I have a headache, caused by a neck crick.

So, I'm a little swamped playing catch up with life since I've spent the past four weekends singing sea shanties while dressed in period appropriate clothing and working like a dog during the week.

As you would have guessed by KAT's post, it's been FREAKING COLD. So this past weekend, that meant wearing all three of my costumes at ONCE to keep warm in the 40 degree (and 38 degree) weather.

There's also the whole me moving into a new house in three and a half weeks thing that's probably causing my neck to crick. I should probably start packing in earnest. But frankly, I have not been motivated. I feel like to pack is to jinx my closing date.

But, in keeping with the pictures of me in costume, I'm including my absolute favorite picture taken of me and my very dear friend the Pope (Not really, guys. He only *plays* the Pope. I feel I had to qualify).

Huzzah! I'll be back to give you the trials of home buying/selling shortly. And by shortly I mean, you know. Within a week.

I win! I win! Well, kind of...

This is to make up for all those times something doesn't go right in my life and I immediately run to the blog to moan about it (or at least make it funny in the re-telling). I thought it was only fair to run to the blog to boast, "Aha, life tried to get me down, but I won (sort of)."

I spent many hours yesterday working on a birthday gift for the greatest nephew in the world, whose first birthday is next week. I've known what I've wanted to do for him for months, but just recently got my butt in gear to finally create it. Sorry for being so vague, but Peyton's mom sometimes reads him the blog as a bedtime story and I don't want to give away the surprise.

Anyway, this gift involved some serious time on a Website that, late last night as I tried to order the gift, refused to work. And I just knew the thing I had spent so much time on would not get ordered and would not be saved and I would have to do the whole thing over again. But-- and here's the part where I kick fate in the crotch and run away gleefully-- I figured out how to take a series of screenshots of my work.

So, yes, I will have to spend some time later today or sometime tomorrow recreating my work. But-- and this is the only thing keeping me from laying down and crying right now-- at least it will just be a matter of copying the screenshots and not starting over from scratch. At least there's that. I'm counting it as a victory.

The KAT Family... Making Bonehead Decisions Since 2007

Start polishing up those awards, folks, because the Pretend Husband and I just won two big ones. First, my ridiculous decision that netted me the "Wife of the Year Award." On Friday, I took the day off work to be home while the kitchen cabinets installers installed... our kitchen cabinets. Knowing it would be boring to sit around by myself, I invited a friend from high school who was in town for a few days to keep me company.

She came over and we quickly settled onto the couch to begin looking up everyone we ever knew on Facebook (don't worry, I still haven't gone over to the dark side... but she had an account). The PH kept interrupting us with phone calls asking me to keep an eye on the installers and I kept brushing him off, "I know, I know. I've got it under control." By the time he called to tell me I had to make sure they put the island in the correct place, I was annoyed and said, "Hon, I'm an adult. I got this."

Well, 20 minutes later, the guys yelled, "OK, we're all set here. Have a good day" and left. And I walked into the kitchen to find the island almost two feet too close to the wall. I swore, I panicked, I called the PH and almost started crying as he got (understandably) angry that I hadn't paid attention. He was pissed that we were now going to have holes in our brand new kitchen floor when they moved the island into the correct position. Finally, in a panic, I called the cabinet place to explain what happened and the guy's response was, "Did they anchor it?" I said, "You mean there's a chance they didn't?" and my friend and I lifted it in unison. "Oh, thank goodness, now my husband and I don't have to get a divorce!" I said to the guy before calling the PH with the good news. Still, my first place win had already been ensured.

But the PH followed my win up a few days later when he swept the "Father of the Year" category. The same friend was over (she is such a distraction!) and we were playing Wii while the dogs had a grudge match all over the house. The PH got home around 9 p.m. with a pizza so we all sat down to eat. About an hour later, my friend was talking about how funny the dogs were when they wrestled when I looked down and saw only Molly. So I started walking through the house to make sure Casey wasn't getting into trouble... and couldn't find Casey. Then I ran through the house, calling for Casey and opening closet doors in case she had accidentally gotten closed inside.

As everyone started putting on shoes and coats so we could comb the neighborhood, I opened the front door, yelled for Casey and held the door open as she came running around the corner of the house. She was a bit wet and a little cold, but no worse for the wear. In fact, I think the PH was more scarred by the experience than she was.

And if this story about Casey's terrible parents doesn't tug at your heartstrings enough, listen to this. I went out the next morning to see where Casey had gone by tracking her prints in the snow. I was curious whether she had run out to the road or to a neighbor's, etc. and to the best of my investigation skills, it looks like all she did was run from the front door of the house to the side door, trying to get in. I know, I know. Good dog, bad parents.

It could only happen to me...

So you've probably caught on that things have been a bit, um, stressful lately, what with the suddenly having no job and not being approved for a mortgage because of the lack of job. But, now that it seems to be over (I'm employed! Mortgage approval is pending! The sale of our house went through! Yay!) I can laugh about all those little bumps along the way. Tee-hee! Ha ha! Bwa-hahahahahaha!

Whew! That does feel better. I would be hard pressed to pick one thing that sucked more than the others (having to fight with the phone company in 12 calls in one week?!? still not having the Internet working at our house?!? having to return to a job I had very much enjoyed leaving?!?) but only one has a semi-amusing story attached to it.

Shortly before we completed our move out of the old house, I decided to put a gift certificate for a pedicure that Kat's lil sis gave me to good use. So I scheduled the appointment amid a day of running to the bank, running to the Pretend Husband's office to sign documents and a gynecologist appointment. It was going to be awesome! The highlight of an otherwise crappy day!

I walk into the fancy schmancy spa and am looking forward to just relaxing. I pick a color, climb into the vibrating chair, put my feet into the warm, bubbling water and ahhhh... And just when I think it can't get any better, the pedicurist offers me a drink. Amid the choices: a glass of wine. Awesome! So she brings me a glass of white wine and then proceeds to give me the best leg massage ever. Ahhhh.

And then some annoying, friends-with-the-owner, constantly-checking-her-Blackberry, spends-the-entire-visit-giving-financial-advice-to-pedicurist woman climbs into the chair next to me and immediately knocks my glass of wine over into my lap and into my purse on the floor next to me. Argh!

She was slightly apologetic (I don't know about you, but I would have been saying "I'm so sorry" for the rest of the appointment...) and then went back to being her annoying self. I managed to tune her out for most of the rest of what is definitely the best pedicure I've ever gotten and thought that was the end of it. Until I got out of the appointment and went to use my cell phone.

OF COURSE Annoying Wine Lady couldn't just drench me and my purse, but she made sure some of it leaked into my cellphone, too. Which caused my cellphone not to work. Just a week after the PH's cellphone stopped working. And before our landline was finally hooked up in the house. Which left me at the house without a phone during the day and us shoving each other out of the way to use the PH's work cellphone at night. Fun times, I tell ya.

But, we got our landline, the PH bought a used phone off the Internet and my replacement phone is currently on its way to me. And that, my dear readers, is hopefully the last of my bitching for a very, very long time.

Digging out...

I am absolutely BURIED right now... with finishing up my last week of work, job hunting, working on the new house, packing up the old house and completing a project for a friend's business. I'm not sure I will be going to sleep tonight because, of course, everything needs to be completed at once.

I realize this post is not the usual bit o'funny that you've come to expect from us Funny Gals. I promise to try to spend some time at Wal-Mart next week to make up for it (because, for some reason, Wal-Mart cashiers are always coming out with comedic gems, although not usually on purpose...)

In the meantime, send chocolate martinis-- quick!