Never Trust The Child Who Puts Himself To Nap ...

at least not when he's four and a half!

It’s always a challenge to know what specifically is up with the wee ones when they’ve been out of my control. I know bits and pieces, of course, because I ask, but without knowing that they’ve been following out routine, all bets are off.

Last night, they spent the night at my parents’ house – pictures and a post on Mister Man’s half birthday party to come, I promise – because I do yoga every Saturday morning, and my husband is a Scholastic Bowl coach and had a tournament where he left hours before I woke up for my 8am class (and still isn’t home yet). My parents graciously volunteer to have the wee ones do sleepovers whenever we run into this situation, which I dearly appreciate.

I know what they ate for dinner last night, because I fed them. What they did once they got to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, who knows. My mom claims they were both in bed at 7:30 – which is well past their bedtimes, as is – and were up by 6, not surprisingly an hour plus before they usually wake up. When I picked them up after yoga at 9:30, Little Miss was being given a refill on her “tea party” by my dad, which meant another handful of mini-marshmallows, raisins and Goldfish into her bowl to run back to the family room to eat. We won’t talk about how many of my rules are being broken right there – plus, who eats marshmallows and Goldfish together? Yuck!

At least we did get home in time for our playdate that wouldn’t end. When I got to my parents’ house, both children were still in pjs and had no interest in leaving, nor knowledge that they had to go home. My parents don’t – or won’t – get it, which irritates me, as I try to explain why I do things the way I do. Leaving was not pleasant, which I think my parents intentionally do so that my kids will prefer them and their house over their parents and their home.

But I digress (as usual)….

Both kids had fun playing with my friend and her children. We don’t see them often, as they live a half hour away and we don’t have any activities that overlap anymore. She raises her kids differently than I do, and that’s fine. I forget that there are times when it’s better to meet at a neutral location or her house though. A neutral location – my initial suggestion of a park was laughed at – was unfortunately not possible since it isn’t even 40 degrees and has been raining and snowing all day. Actually, for most of the last three days.

When we had agreed to a playdate, we talked about playing for awhile in the morning then having lunch, since both my kids need to nap. Her kids don’t nap, although her son is younger than Little Miss by a few weeks. And she’s really laid back, again not a bad thing, just different.

When they got here a little before 11, I could tell the wee ones were already tired from getting up so early, but they did a good job of being host and hostess. Little Miss and her son were inseparable, finding books and “reading” them together and talking about the story and so forth. Mister Man and the daughter took a bit longer to find common ground, as she only wanted to play Duck Duck Goose and he wanted to do a board game. Play Dough worked as a compromise, fortunately, and everyone had a great time. In fact, they sat at the kitchen table playing with the different colors and activities until it was time for me to make lunch.

No two children ate the same thing, of course. Didn’t you know I was a short order cook? Little Miss originally wanted a grilled cheese but then decided she wanted the leftover orange-fused French toast with Nutella from last night. The daughter is a picky eater and would only eat a hot dog or bologna, neither of which we have in the house, or plain bread with a stick of string cheese. Two down. Mister Man and the son both went for chicken dinosaurs. Until her son saw Little Miss’s French toast. Unfortunately, that part of the kitchen was closed, but he made do with Italian bread toasted and slathered with Nutella.

After lunch, our usual routine is to put dishes away, wash our hands and faces, and go up for naps. My friend’s kids finished eating before mine did, so they ran off to play. My kids soon joined them. Around 1:05, my friend asked what time my kids usually went for a nap. I told her that Little Miss usually went down between 12:45 and 1pm, and Mister Man at the same time or shortly after her. She then announced that they would leave in fifteen minutes.

At that point, I realized Mister Man had disappeared. Ok, I realized it because I heard a wail from upstairs. He was looking for his baby (a Thomas pillow) and Douglas Kitty and grey teddy bear. I had seen him take them out of his room – where they usually live – but didn’t know where he’d left them. A search ensued. He finally found them after my friend spotted them on a dining room chair.

He disappeared again, I assumed to put them back in his room. I was half right. He’d put them in his room… and then laid down to take his nap. Now if this is me and a friend’s child just put himself to sleep, I do a quick pick up of toys and head out. Like I said, my friend is really laid back.

By the time she decides clean up time means clean up, her kids have both disappeared into our basement. As with all kids, they were enthralled with the slide and roller coaster. Her “two more times, then we’re leaving” went on for 10 or 15 times. She and her daughter finally made it upstairs, but when I tried to direct her son upstairs, he was having none of it. Knowing she doesn’t correct him, I wasn’t about to start at that point. Instead, Little Miss and I went upstairs, leaving him in the basement.

He did finally make it upstairs after realizing we were really leaving him down there. Shoes went on, lollipops were given to Little Miss and left for Mister Man, and they were out the door. At 1:50.

Little Miss quickly went potty (with a dry diaper!) and into bed for her nap. As I started to clean up the mess from our playdate, I heard Mister Man come out of his room. He had to go potty, too. After he went, he came down and told me he felt sick.

Needless to say, I spent the next twenty minutes upstairs with him, trying to figure out if he was going to throw up or not (please no, I so don’t do puke!). Fortunately, he has no fever, but he told me he went potty, and his stomach still hurt (generally, solution #1), and then he got a drink and it still hurt. He wasn’t still hungry, but it felt yucky and was hurting, too. I finally gave him a little Motrin, hoping that it would help him sleep at least and maybe take away some of the pain.

He wasn’t up to laying down in his bed to nap yet, and he didn’t want to try to lay down in mine. I had him lay down and show me where his tummy hurt. He pointed right in the middle, and I started gently rubbing in circles to see if I could ease the pain. He said that made it feel a little better. I could tell it was helping, because his eyes were starting to involuntarily close, then open a little, then close again. Within a few minutes, he was out like a light, laying in the middle of the hallway in a most uncomfortable looking position.

I debated leaving him there and letting him sleep in the hallway with a blanket. I didn’t want to wake him by carrying him into his room, but then I remembered this is the child who’s practically comatose when sleeping. All I got was a slight murmur as I laid him in his bed, and he’s snuggled warm as a bug in a rug.

The only bummer? In 3 ½ hours, I have an engagement party for the wedding I’m in. My parents have a charity even they’re going to tonight, of all nights, as is my sister and an aunt and uncle. One of the women from the babysitting co-op is scheduled to come over at 5 to watch them until we get home.

I haven’t called her to cancel yet, but if he’s off when he wakes up, I think I’m going stag to the engagement party!

And yes, I do have a picture of Mister Man sleeping in the hallway, but I need to wrap the present, fix dinner for the kids, and get ready to head to the party. Knock on wood, Mister Man will be fine and was just overtired.

They're Off The List!

Add another quirk to my list. I got home tonight after my girls’ night out and sort of wanted something to eat but didn’t want anything too savory or sweet. I went with my one of my standbys: peas.

Usually when I am in this situation, I’ll go for an orange or apple or corn or peas. Tonight, I’m tired enough that peeling an orange was too much work for me. Pathetic really, but it is what it is. And the corn actually seemed like it was going to be too sweet for me. What that’s about, I’m not sure. (Anyone sensing a theme with me just being off lately?)

So I plopped some peas into a little bowl and added a touch of water, then stuck them in the microwave to heat. Unlike the wee ones, I don’t have an appreciation for frozen peas. While I’m fine with eating food cold out of the fridge, the freezer is a bit much (ice cream, of course, being an exception). Then again, the wee ones don’t like leftovers straight from the fridge and insist I heat them up. Now that I think about that, the paradox of this intrigues me.

Anyway, back to my peas that have now come to an eatable temperature in the microwave. I came back to the couch to put up my feet for a moment (no surprise, another long day today – including 3 hours of work when I was supposed to be off). I took a spoonful of peas and put them into my mouth.

I took a bite, and they sort of squeegeed against my teeth – or at least that’s what it felt like. It made my mouth and my skin crawl – a pretty good trick, if you think about it. I quickly swallowed and thought about it. It vaguely reminded me of eating shrimp that’s been cooked and has that (in my mind) weird texture that I can’t even come up with a good description of. It doesn’t “bite” like most foods, but you can tell that you’re tearing it. I think that’s my issue. Or at least one of my issues!

I tried a much smaller bite of only two or three peas and had the same issue. I thought maybe it was because I was chewing them in the back of my mouth. Nope, same issue when I tried the front.

How have I been fine eating peas for well over thirty years and now one day suddenly been unable to deal with the texture? Even now, thinking about eating the peas gives my mouth the heebie jeebies.

Apparently, peas are to be removed from my standby list. Fortunately, I don’t have the same issue when peas are an ingredient, but I used to love just having a bowl of veggies that required no preparation when I was tired. Do I get to call this an eccentricity at least?

And you thought you were in for a normal post tonight… Tomorrow, I promise!

Really, This Is Just A Big Whine Of A Post....

Sometimes, I wonder why I work. I will admit that I’ve got a great gig. I work three days a week, and two of those are from home. The work I do is challenging, and I get a decent paycheck for it. Plus, my agreement with my boss is that three days a week (salaried) means 24 hours. If I work more than 24 hours one week, another week I’ll work less than 24 hours.

For the most part it works out well. Then we have weeks like this. My job is essentially that of an internal consultant. I get drafted for projects that have no resources available and then shepherd them through whatever process it is. Generally, it’s pretty fun. Last week, I was told that I had an opportunity to change my role slightly in that I’d be working specifically to pore over deals that we’ve made to figure out how to return them to profitability. And Monday, I got “asked” to be a project manager for a behind schedule, cross functional, high visibility project. In other words, all guts, no glory.

Yesterday was my day in the office. I left the house at 7:45, and I left work at 6:45 to make it to my babysitting co-op meeting (as I complained about yesterday!). Today was a home day. The nice thing is that I get to wake up my kids, eat breakfast with them, get Mister Man on the bus, and take Little Miss to preschool. Then I go home and start working. Again, the flexibility my work allows me is great.

I have one task that has to be completed today, or I become a hypocrite. The first task of a project manager is to put together a project plan (since said project has been going on since February, you might assume there was one already, but you’d be sorely mistaken!). Before I was “asked” to do this, the overall project plan was promised to be delivered for review of the team by tomorrow. I don’t work on Fridays.

With the lack of data, people freaking out over me wanting to know what their plans were, etc., you can imagine how fun my day was. Today, I put in 11 ¾ hours. Sadly, I just logged off at 9:27. Again, the benefits of being at home, I was able to run out to hug my kids after my mom had picked up Little Miss from preschool and Mister Man had gotten off the bus before they left to go to my parents’ house. And I didn’t starve (not likely to happen anyway!) since I’m working at home and could grab dinner and eat it while still working. When the wee ones walked in the door, I was able to give them a hug and kiss good night as Daddy did everything else.

And now I have meetings tomorrow for an hour and a half. And every other Tuesday for an hour. And I know it will only continue with this project.

So now I’m asking myself why I’m doing this. I used to work full time when I had both kids. I was in client management and owned an account on the west coast. Between travel and working late, I literally did not see the wee ones during the week. I quit to stay at home (and you can all see how well that worked out!) when Mister Man was 2 and would scream “Noooo!” and hide if I tried to give him a hug. Subtle hint, really.

I haven’t truly spent time with my kids for more than an hour or two in almost two weeks now. That just isn’t right.

And I do enjoy the challenge of work, but this will be a thankless project and a lot of stress. At the same time, I know that I am a better and more patient mom when my brain is challenged like it is now and I do have regular adult interaction. While we can definitely afford me staying home, my working allows us to do the fun things in life that we want to do without worrying or living paycheck to paycheck, which is one of my greatest fears.

But I’m overscheduled. And I need to find a fix, for myself and my family. But for now… I’m going to bed! What a bummer of a post, no?

What Was I Supposed To Do Again?

I have really had a bad week. I know myself, and I know that I need “alone” time periodically – ok, sometimes more than periodically. It makes me feel like I’m a selfish person, but it’s something hard-wired in me. Without some alone time every once in awhile where I can just veg, I get … stressed. And crabby.

So why haven’t I had any alone time lately?

It’s my fault, of course. For the last week plus, I’ve been running myself ragged. I haven’t had spare minutes in the day because I’ve overcommitted myself. My brain starts to get fuzzy – did I turn in that field trip permission slip or did I lose it somewhere?

How do I get to this point? I stopped making a daily list. My daily list has two components. The A side of the list is things that I have to do before I go to bed. The B side is things that need to get done at some point (e.g., turn in the field trip form) or would be nice to do that day (e.g., read the paper).

It’s been almost a month since I’ve made a list, and I cram too many things into a day because I forget at the time that I already have things to do at that point in time. Or I do things leisurely then remember that I have more things to do and end up jamming everything together quickly.

I think it’s the jamming that does me in. That and the forgetting things or fearing I’m forgetting things that drives me insane.

It took today, a day that should have been a fun day to make me realize that. Surprising, I know, that I’d consider a day I drive into the office as a “fun” day, but frequently they are. I left the house at 6:45 and got to work by 7:45. I left work at 6:45 because I had a co-op meeting at 7pm. Do the math. Fortunately, since I missed rush hour, I was able to walk in the door, grab my calendar and co-op folder and make it to the meeting by 7:30. I was home by 9:30 and then had to straighten out the house a lot because the cleaning ladies are coming tomorrow at 8 and my husband was still grading and hadn’t started.

And of course, the reason there was so much straightening to do is because I hadn’t had or taken the time all week to do what I normally would do. I had no list that says “Wrap Hanna’s present” which means that it is still sitting on the dining room table unwrapped, and I had to put away the wrapping paper and ribbon now instead of having it put away on Sunday like it should have been. The list (no pun intended, I swear!) goes on and on.

So what am I doing as soon as I post this? (Well, right after I finally eat dinner, anyway.) I’m making my list for tomorrow. I think my blood pressure has already started to go down again.

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And apparently Little Miss was hysterical at daycare today, according to my mom. Per the daycare teacher, she had cried hysterically for a half hour, and Miss Erin couldn’t get her to stop crying. This is the girl who never cries!

Miss Erin was afraid that she had broken her wrist (ummm, so here’s my question: a daycare provider thinks a child has broken a bone and can’t get the child to stop crying; why was I not called?!). She told my mom that something was wrong with her right arm. My mom asked Little Miss what was wrong with her arm. “Devon wouldn’t hold my hand.”

Little stinker! That was it. Her feelings were hurt, and Little Miss drama queen had everyone wrapped around her little finger worried about her. I’m soooo in trouble. Tomorrow I’ll have a chat with her about how to handle herself next time. And I think there will be a call going into daycare, too.

Forget Underpants Gnomes! I've Got Bigger Problems

I am so screwed. I lost my car keys.

How, you might ask? Well, if I really knew the answer to that question, I’d know where my keys were.

I had them when I dropped the wee ones at daycare yesterday morning. I had them when I drove home. After that, who knows!

When I went to go to yoga last night, I was in a hurry. I changed from jeans and tee into my yoga clothes. I grabbed the same jacket I’d worn earlier, my purse and walked out the door. Then I walked back in to get my yoga mat. Walked out and searched for the keys in my purse. No dice. I checked the pocket of my jacket, and they weren’t there either. Organized me has my spare key hanging in a tiny cabinet in the kitchen, so I grabbed those so I wouldn’t be too late.

This morning, I checked my jeans pockets. Nope. Hmmm. I checked the floor around my jeans (and other assorted clothes that will be off the floor by Thursday morning when the cleaning ladies arrive, I swear!). Now I’m starting to get frustrated.

I checked the jacket pocket again, then I tried jackets I knew I hadn’t worn yesterday. I checked everywhere in the office. And on the couch, even under the cushions – bummer, as I didn’t find anything there; usually I at least get a quarter or ribbon or something. I crawled around on the floor to no avail.

Then I turned around and looked at my kitchen. The island had once again exerted its magnetic properties and was just about covered in everything from a chocolate fountain to books to Tupperware to school notes and God knows what else. The kitchen was apparently taking note of the magical powers of the island and was doing its best to one up the island.

The good news is that I can honestly now say that the island now has only a crockpot with chocolate in it (that I need for my Friday Girls Night Out) and a jar I need to return to a friend. The kitchen table is completely empty. Unfortunately, while many things were put away, my keys were not amongst the debris.

They have to be somewhere in the house, right? I’m debating whether my dear husband stole them, the wee ones played with them, or the kitty buddies knocked them around. Or whether they apparated somewhere and will reappear sometime soon.

After all, as I was getting gas for my car today, I searched again in the pockets of my jacket and discovered the stem to a red pepper that I had been cutting up at lunch for Little Miss (yeah, I know – she’s weird; even I won’t eat raw red peppers plain). I knew it had disappeared as I was cutting it, but how it got into my pocket….

For now, I’m using my spare keys, but there were other keys on that key ring that I don’t have copies of (because dummy me, all the copies are on the same key ring – duh!). But they’ll have to turn up at some point, right?

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Another nomination for the “too cute” award:

Let me set the stage. Little Miss was all ready for bed, and Daddy was reading her stories from her magazine. I came in to say good night to Little Miss.

Me: Good night, Baby Girl. Who’s the prettiest girl in the whole wide world?
Little Miss: (without hesitation) ME!
Me: And who’s the smartest girl in the whole wide world?
Little Miss: YOU! (again, without hesitation and pointing directly at me)

My husband still doesn’t believe I haven’t trained her to say that, but I swear, it shocked me as much as it did him.

Cupid Strikes Again!

A good friend of mine from college, who I met the second or third week I was there and have been close with ever since has not had the best luck when it comes to romance. He had a few girlfriends when we were at Northwestern, but never “the one.” Then again, at Northwestern, many people never had any significant others, so maybe he did have some luck there.

He was three years ahead of me in school and graduated the year I was a freshman. He then worked in Chicago a year and went back to Kellogg (the business school at NU) and was back near campus again for my last two years, so we always spent lots of time together – including several road trips to New Orleans for Mardi Gras.

The trip we took my senior year was an interesting lot. He and I were both along for the ride of course, as was one of our mutual best friends who’s been with us that long. His girlfriend joined us, as did one of her best friends. Both of them were a year younger than us, but their maturity level was not quite into high school. Knowing that I was in for some very long car rides, I also invited a friend of mine to make a nice sixth.

Having the sixth person along turned out to be a really good thing. The girlfriend’s friend and my friend ended up getting along a little too well, if you catch my drift. In fact, they started dating after that trip. And kept dating.

She was from a small town in central Illinois and had never been out of the state. He had lived all over, including internationally, and came from a family where the dad was an executive. After he finished Kellogg, he took her to Australia for a vacation. Those sorts of things definitely expanded her horizons, and she loved him. Needless to say, they got married in 2000.

Oh, and did I mention that she couldn’t stand me? Apparently she was jealous of my friendship with him. They moved to Seattle where he started his business – which has done quite well. When business took me to Seattle, we’d meet up for dinner and drinks, but she’d never join us. When we vacationed as a group, she avoided me. Finally, she softened towards me for unknown reasons, and we became friends. My then boyfriend (now husband) actually stayed with them for a vacation in 2002.

But in early 2003, I got a call from him that they’d separated, and she’d moved back to Chicago. She had grown more into her own person and realized that she loved what he taught her and allowed her to experience, but she wasn’t in love with him. As you might imagine, he was devastated.

As a total side note, the ex-wife ended up marrying the mutual friend who went with us to Mardi Gras that year – her friend’s ex-boyfriend and for him, his friend’s ex-wife. They had a baby this winter and by all accounts are perfect for each other. But what a convoluted relationship!

Since then, he’s dated a number of women, many of whom I’ve met. Unfortunately, none of them lasted more than a few months. A year ago last fall, he brought his current girlfriend with him to Chicago to go to a Northwestern game with us. She was sweet and very smart, but nothing about her screamed perfect match any more or less than the other girlfriends had. She stuck around though and helped him with his business, particularly as he opened a factory in China last year.

Then I got a call that they were engaged. They were so happy, and I was so happy for them. When they flew through town, they showed me the slideshow of pictures from where they got engaged in a remote area of Alaska (really cool, actually). The date was set for July of this year, and I made plans to head out to Seattle to wish them well. I put off buying my ticket though, partly because I screwed up and bought Cirque du Soleil tickets for the night before their wedding and was debating whether I tried to sell my (front row!) tickets or tried to make the wedding by taking the first flight out on Saturday.

When the invitation arrived, I knew I’d have to make a choice. Until I got an email from him later that same day. He and his fiancée had split up. With their family issues and his previous divorce, they had decided to get couples’ counseling before the wedding. It was going well, but apparently there were some bad patterns that they were falling into, and too much hurt was caused before they realized it. The wedding was off.

I called him and left him a message, realizing he probably wasn’t up to talking to anyone. I sent him an email expressing my sadness for him and wishing him well. I told him that what I cared about most was him being happy, and that if he needed anything, I was just a phone call away. We decided to go on vacation in July around the time of the wedding somewhere fun (with my husband, btw – my mom missed that part of it when I first told her and she wasn’t sure how appropriate that was!).

Today, I got another email from him. The wedding is back on, but in November (and smart him, on a weekend when Northwestern has an away game!). He and his fiancée continued to get counseling (separately) and were able to work themselves back to each other. They made progress on their issues and are once again happy.

How often does something like this happen? I knew they were very happy and in love with each other, but mistakes and bad habits cleaved what they had built. But rather than become bitter and wallow in their misery, they both continued working, and now they have another shot at happiness together.

Second chances are a wonderful thing. I have to admit that there are many things that I’d like to revisit in my life and do differently. Many people I would have treated better, different choices and experiences I would have gone for, and so forth. People rarely get a second chance, and I’m thrilled for my friends that they are able to have one.

With everything we do every day, there’s no way to go through life without some regret. I know what my biggest regret is, and it’s a series of bad habits I exhibited. Nothing can change that, although I have sincerely apologized. I still feel guilty about it though. If you could go back and change something you did or said (or didn’t!), what would it be?

Shower? Check!

Phew! The shower went off without a hitch. Well, at least without a major hitch. And everyone had fun.

The biggest issue was my concern over getting there before the shower started. This was a birthday party weekend, as we had a birthday party both yesterday and today for the kids at noon. My husband had baseball both days (PA and playing, respectively), so I was on my own for getting them there. Unfortunately, Little Miss’s party today ended up going later than expected, so I got home around 2:45. The shower started at 4. No big deal, except that I have to go from the suburbs to Lincoln Park in Chicago and set everything up before people arrive. Traffic can easily put the journey over an hour and a half, so that was cutting it close.

Smart me, however, had made a list of everything I needed for the party from the pita chips to go with the hummus to the camera to the crock pot to melt the chocolate for my fountain and more. Then I acted on the list and gathered everything I could (some items obviously needed to stay refrigerated) and either placing them on the island where I couldn’t miss them or putting them in my car so I wouldn’t have to worry about forgetting them. That definitely made things easier.

Except that I realized that my car was a little low on gas, and I didn’t feel comfortable driving into the city and back with the gas I had. But I didn’t have time to stop and get more gas, especially since I had to make other stops.

Like getting bananas. I had stopped at my produce market yesterday and Costco, and neither had bananas. I tried a different Costco that was on my way home from the birthday party today, and no dice. What’s up with bananas lately? I’ve had a really hard time finding bananas, and I’m bummed because I love them. I don’t remember having such a large span of time in the past where bananas just weren’t available. Am I the only one missing out on bananas?

I also had to stop for the chocolate. The best place to buy the melting discs is on the way to the city, so I’d planned on stopping at the Home Economist. I hadn’t planned on leaving at 2:45, but without the melting discs, there’s no chocolate fountain, so I stopped as fast as I could.

For me, that involves running inside with just my wallet, going straight to the melting discs section (yes, I know exactly where they are – Mister Man had a chocolate birthday party for his fourth birthday where we “made” all sorts of chocolates), and racing back to the checkout counter. Where there were three people in line ahead of me. Three groups, really, as one of them was four little boys (in my view – they were probably 11 or 12 at least). Fortunately, a second line opened up, so it ended up that I just had to wait on the boys.

Who had $8. And bought candy worth $9.19. As they dickered amongst themselves over which item to take out and how to get under $8, I decided that it was easier and smarter to just give them the $2. When the cashier saw what I was doing, she would only take $1 and gave the boys the other $0.19 themselves. The best part is how happy and grateful they were. They actually turned around and thanked me repeatedly. Maybe I’m a little jaded, but I’d expected maybe a thank you but more likely a grunt of embarrassed acknowledgement before they ran outside. That put a smile on my face.

Apparently, that was the karma I needed, too, although I didn’t intend it that way. I left there at 3:01, and I made it to the WineStyles store at 3:46. That included driving around the block once to try to find parking, too. Phew!

Since I’d gotten there about a half hour later than I’d intended, much of the setup work had been done by another bridesmaid, which made things easier. The biggest difficulty was getting the chocolate to melt. Again, thank God I’d read the instruction manual (and brought it with me), as the fountain doesn’t melt the chocolate. You have to pre-melt it then pour it into the fountain, which seems rather counterintuitive to me. Yay! I brought my crockpot for just that purpose, and it melted within 20 minutes of getting there, so it was pretty much all on time.

And during the shower, I stuck my foot in my mouth only one time. I was talking to the future MIL and she mentioned how nice the shower was and how much fun she was having (ahhh, music to my ears!). I told her that I’d been a little worried, since we didn’t have anything specifically planned. The bride’s two rules were “No games, and no lingerie.” Guess who’d bought lingerie? Oops. I sort of laughed it off, but yep, that was the next set of present to be opened “from” the flower girl, the third bridesmaid who lives in Israel, and the MIL. That’ll teach me!

For anyone who hasn’t been to WineStyles, it’s a great franchise. They had a cool table set up, we brought in our own food, and they poured five different wines for us. They offered to do a regional theme for us if we wanted. They adjusted what wines they were pouring based on some of the tasted I knew. They offered to put out bottles of water for us. They poured grape juice for the eight year old and didn’t charge us a cent for her. They let me us their kitchen for the chocolate and cleaning everything up. They made a great package for the favor we chose (a bottle of dessert wine). They kept our glasses full without being overly intrusive. And it was $15 per person for our “two” hour timeslot, which really turned into 3 ½… with no rushing us out the door or anything. I highly recommend them if you have a need for an event. We had eight people, but I can see up to twenty fitting well. Oh yeah, and everyone at the event gets a 10% discount on the wine in the store.

The only downfall is that the eight year old hit a wall at about 7. She was done (and had probably had enough sugar from all the chocolate and cake!). Her mom sent her for a quick walk, which helped. But then she lost it and started crying and whining, which meant we got everything cleaned up and out to our cars more quickly than we’d originally intended. Poor kid! She was a good sport and good help through the majority of the event though. That does give me more faith that not bringing Mister Man and Little Miss to Houston for the evening wedding is the right choice!

Oh, and I almost forgot! The other bridesmaid was in charge of the cake. It was so cool! It was a square cake decorated as a present with a ribbon and everything. Plus, it even tasted good (mmm, raspberry filling!). I’m always in awe of people who make food look good like that. All my effort always goes into making things taste good. Presentation sometimes leaves a bit to be desired. Someday, I’ll take some cake decorating classes, but in the meantime, I’m always highly impressed by what people can do. Ace of Cakes is a perfect example! Sometimes freaky, but always way cool. And yes, I did take pictures, but I need to download them onto a different computer, and I’m too tired to do that tonight.

I’m just glad that duty #1 as MOH is over and successfully completed. Now I have only 9,999,999,999 more. I think. I’ve never been in a wedding before, and the bride is really quite anti-bride, so she’s no help. I know in the ceremony, I’m supposed to make sure her dress is pretty once she gets to the chuppah and take her flowers when she needs to pay attention to the groom, but beyond that, I’m not 100% sure. And when I mentioned those two tasks, they were news to her. I think I have some research to do!