Vivi has an over the top, pre-8am, 20+ minute meltdown in her room over being forced into a long sleeved shirt. Door slamming, hysterical tears, et all. I recognize the glimpse into life with a 13 year old Vivi, and I die a little bit inside.
I discard a perfectly good outfit I'd chosen for myself because it's blue. Election day superstition, whatwhaaaaat. Change to a scarf with red accents. Think red, Colorado! You too, Wisconsin!
Get to the preschool, drop off the boy, realize I'd left my baby carriers at home. I can't deal with errands minus my Ergo or Bjorn, because LIKE Mabes is going to tolerate the car seat for hours, and errands MUST be conquered on my "only have two kids" days, so back up the mountain we went to retrieve a carrier.
Back down to town. Get to Starbucks. Mmm. Coffee. Better yet, coffee with Emily.
MG has a shitsplosion. So, so bad. I knew she'd pooped, because I heard it, but I was not aware it had blown through her onesie and her leggings until I picked her up and E's face was all "OMG SHIT EVERYWHERE". And yall? That pricey super duper special formula she's on? It REEKS. So. Bad. Reeks going in, reeks eleven hundred times MORE coming out.
Rush to leave, to change MG in the back end of the vehicle. Vivi dumps her "coffee" (aka, hot chocolate) on the floor. She'd filled the cup with fruit snacks while I was busy chatting, so the spilled "coffee" was chunky and pretty much looked like she'd vomited on the floor. People were staring. I alerted the baristas, then ran.
Strap Vivi into car seat, then turn on the DVD player in the Suburban and start up Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. The shitsplosion was going to take some time to clean up, I knew.
Clean up shitsplosion. Ew. Just. Ew.
Get a finally-clean MG into her seat, buckle her in, the crying starts. Because duh.
Start the Suburban. Instead of a roaring engine, there's a click. Click. Click. OMG THE BATTERY IS DEAD. DVD player did it. DVD shuts off, Vivi starts yelling, Mabel still screaming, I call for help.
We wait awhile. It's not really very fun.
But my weekend? Oh, what a weekend. A getaway with the husband and the baby girl! It went like this:
Pack a suitcase. Mabel hogs it. #girlmomproblems.
We leave the bigger littles at the ranch with Mommo, and board MG's first flight, bound for Chicago. MG being MG, she rocks it. (Because she's not in a car seat.)
Land at O'Hare, get a free upgrade at the Budget Rent-a-Car counter. Feel fancy in a luxury SUV and better yet an SUV that's not as big as a bus, because we travel relatively light with only one tiny child in tow.
Have a great night out with our very great friends in Chicago, Anne & King (1/2 of the famed GTG gang, for those who have been following along here). Take no pictures, minus the one Anne and I snapped at the restaurant that's blurry and so dark it could be Bill & Guiliana in the picture, for all I know. But we had fun. Trust me.
Back in the car, to Michigan for a wedding. Mabel enters her 8th state in 9 weeks of life. She's like, meh, ain't no thang.
I wear clothes that aren't a) leggings, b) spit up splattered, or c) off the closet floor. Fancy.
While J fulfills his pre-wedding groomsman duties (drinking beer and watching TV, I think?), the Mabester and I hike down to Lake Michigan. I'm quite impressed by the beauty of it, even if it's so bone chilling cold that my face goes numb and I consider calling a cab to get us back to our hotel. Still, beautiful.
I get all dressed up, Mabel refuses to be set down, we deal. Secretly, I love it, because a) snuggles AWWWW and b) the Bjorn matches my dress and covers up my leftover baby belly. The part the Spanx couldn't hold in. Win win.
We celebrate the marriage of one of our very best friends and his bride, who's as genuinely kind as she is beautiful. Keep the baby up WAY past her bedtime. And ours, too.
Unsure of what time it really is because we've switched time zones twice and then the time change happens and we're thoroughly confused .... we leave for O'Hare before my pinot buzz has even fully worn off. J drives, OBVIOUSLY. It kind of sucked. Michigindiana isn't much to look at pre-dawn.
MG doesn't mind our hours at O'Hare one bit, despite being kept up past midnight and woken up before 5am to get there. Winnerbaby.
....but then she crashed for the near entirety of our 2 hour flight AND 2+ hour Denver airport layover. I look down at her with love .... and envy. OMGSLEEPIWANTIT.