We Came, We Saw, We'll Go Back In 5 Years.

We finally made it back from "the happiest place on earth" and to my surprise Disney World did not live up to it's slogan, rather the 95 degree pool at the hotel became the highlight of our Florida vacation. That being said it was really fun to go back to Disney, a place I haven't been in about 25 years, and see it through the eyes of my little man. We spent two days at the Magic Kingdom (which was plenty) and each day we limited ourselves to 6 hours at the park. We went with two other couples and their little girls and I must admit the part of the trip I will remember the most was when we were boarding the tram outside of the parking lot and after packing all of the kids, strollers, bags, etc and my buddy looked over and said "We are officially our parents." At that moment it hit me yes, yes we were. Midlife crisis barely adverted we finally made our way into the park and I have to say it was pretty magical. Nothing has really changed in the last 25 years which made it pretty easy to navigate, but also made me feel a bit like we were in the movie Peter Pan, Disney will stay this age forever.

Before this trip everyone kept telling me that 4-5 was the perfect age for Disney. No one really elaborated and since we had already booked this trip to coincide with a conference that my husband was attending, I never really asked for any explanation. Once we were in the park the reason why became very, very obvious. The lines. There were lines EVERYWHERE. Lines to get tickets, lines to get on the monorail, lines to get food, lines to get on any and all rides, anywhere you looked there were lines. Line, lines, lines, lines. What does a two year old hate more than anything in the entire world? You guessed it, waiting in any kind of line. All of this line waiting led to meltdown after meltdown and if you couple that with two missed naps I often caught myself saying, "we really should be doing this when he is at least 5," or "never" as my husband would reply.

Nevertheless we had a great time once we made it through all those lines. Here are some pictures from the "happiest (crankiest) place on earth."

Riding The Monorail.

This may have been the little man's favorite "ride."

Going on Mom's favorite ride It's a Small World.

Trust me this ride is even better than you remember it as a kid.

Here we are checking out the Swissies.

Given that the little man is half Swiss we were happy to see they were included.

This was our first ride and the LM was so into it I almost had to make sure he was still breathing.

After that we rode the Carousel about 20 times.

He would have probably stayed on this all day had we let him.

This is how we all felt at the end of the day... luckily we were about to head home.

Day two we opted for the boat ride to the park.

And made it just in time for the parade.

The shows and the parades were by far the best part for all the kids.

Here the LM just got a glance of Goofy and Mickey.

The girls we were with wanted nothing more than to meet the princesses. Finally my little man got a chance to meet one of his hero's and planted a big kiss on Woody.

Mickey never looked so good... or so tired. This was the end of a very long trip.

As you can see in the end we did have a pretty great time. Would I ever take a 2 year old again? Probably not. Given that this was almost a free trip would I have listened to anyone who told me not to? Probably not. Will I be waiting until my youngest kid is at least 5 before venturing into Mickey's liar again? Absolutely!

Separated At Birth?

I wish I could take the all the credit for this one, but it goes to my very hilarious friend K.A. While I was traveling she sent me and email showing the newly cropped Shiloh Jolie Pitt with a tag line that she was a "dead ringer" for my little man. When I saw the picture I had to laugh out loud, could it be possible that these two were separated at birth?

Right???????

So does that mean that I resemble Angelina Jolie? Yeah, I didn't think so. I guess then the "Brad Pitt like" gene carrier goes to my hubby.

A husband that looks like Brad Pitt? I'll take two please! (sans beard of course)

(Photo Credit: From Popsugar.)

Surprise!

Ever since we brought home some flowers for Grandma on Valentine's day my little man has been more than slightly obsessed with the idea of "surprise." As in about 100 times a day he brings me something (usually his shoes) and yells "Urpise" (aka "Surprise") at the top of his lungs. I usually thank him, give him a kiss, and send him on his merry way. That was before yesterday. Yesterday his surprise melted my heart. Last night I was making dinner while my little man was playing out in the backyard (note to self get a back yard) when he came in yelling that he had a surprise for me. I looked over expecting to see a pair of shoes and instead I saw this.

Yes, those are flowers (ahem weeds) and yes he pulled them just for me. I must say they are quite possibly the most beautiful thing I have ever been given and I officially love surprises.

You're A Genius!

"You're a genius!" That's what I said to the mother of four who came up with the idea to bring the "kitchen" to the beach. I was not the only one who felt this way, the 3 other moms that watched in awe for 2 hours as our kids happily played in the sand together (yes, together) were also pretty impressed with her creativity. Two hours? I couldn't believe it either!

I don't know about all kids, but my little man doesn't love the beach. Sure he loves the water, and enjoys chasing birds, but sitting in the sand and enjoying the peaceful view? Yeah, not so much. It doesn't matter how many brightly colored plastic toys I try to lure him in with, he's just not that into playing in the sand... until yesterday that was.

It was the salt shaker that first drew him in. After hearing years of "no" every time he tried to cover a table with salt and pepper, he finally got his revenge. Once he saw the measuring spoons, and cups he was pretty much the happiest kid in a 5 mile radius, thus making me the happiest mom in all the world. The "genius mom" said she saw someone else with the idea and immediately rushed out and created her own personal sand kit. I can't blame her because our first stop this morning is going to be to target to stock up before we fly to Florida tomorrow.

A few hours to relax on the beach? Thank you genius mom, you may have given me the best gift ever.

Giving Winter The Middle Finger.

The other day I told my husband, "You know, this year I kind of feel like I'm giving winter the middle finger" and the truth is that I actually am. Between Fiji, California, and soon Florida I feel a bit like I have found a way to outsmart mother nature (go me.) We have been in California for about 4 days now and each day has been more beautiful than the last. The little man and I are dusting off our our typical summer routine: coffee, park, walk, smoothie, park, nap, park, dinner alfresco, and it has been heavenly (despite the fact that my LM is fighting jet lag and a head cold.)

For 4 days I have been walking around with a permanent smile on my face which begs the question...

"WHY IS IT EXACTLY THAT I CHOOSE TO LIVE IN BOSTON?"

Boston: A place that happens to be freezing 6 (Yes 6!) months out of the year? A place where most people spend half the year cursing the Winter and each other? A place where right now it is 30 degrees and snowing. A place where we have absolutely no family. Yeah, that place.

I honestly don't have an answer. Nothing is exactly keeping us in Boston and neither my husband nor I are from there. His work soon can be done anywhere and I can clearly raise my babies (hopeful thinking) anywhere. I know that two years ago we had this exact conversation and we decided that the East Coast is the place for us. I think we agreed that we both loved the city and that people like us (liberals) are happier when we are surrounded by our own kind. I'm pretty sure that we said that Cambridge, Mass is pretty much the best place we had ever lived in. I sort of remember laying out all of the pros and cons and deciding that we were 100 percent not moving to Southern California.

I'm convinced all of this was said but somehow on this 75 degree day in the middle of February I'm having a hard time figuring out why we decided what we did. To that end I have been looking at real estate in the area (yes I only said looking ... don't kill me yet girls, aka my besties) and giving some serious thought to what it would be like to live here. Weighing my options, there's nothing wrong with that...right?

My husband of course thinks this is just a phase and it's only because I usually visit in the Fall where we are typically coming off of a perfect Summer, but I don't know. On a day like this that cons list is getting shorter by the second. Leaving the house in a T-shirt and flip flops seems pretty priceless to me right about now.

Here is the little man soaking up the sunshine.

February 15th never looked so good. This momma is clearly California dreaming!

What's The Alternative?

A few days ago some anonymous commentator posted the following:

"You look extremely old for your age. Hello crows feet and eye bags! Yuck."

Um, okay... thanks for stopping by. No really, you know just how to make a girl feel good about herself. I'm sure you will have lots of good karma coming your way.*

That being said my question is what's the alternative? Should I a) botox myself until I look more like a Real Housewife of (Insert City Here) or b) rush in for emergency plastic surgery at age 30 a la Heidi Montag, c) spend my monthly clothing budget on high end skin cream, or d) grow old gracefully and fully embrace my crows feet and "eye bags?"

Yeah, I think I'll go with (d).

The truth is I always thought I looked pretty good for my age. No, I will never be mistaken for a co-ed but at the same time I don't think I will ever get mistaken as the LM's grandmother either. I feel as though I look like I am in my late 20's- early 30's which is a good thing considering that is exactly where I am. Sure I don't love wrinkles, but I feel as though I earned every single one of them and with a good skin care regimen and lots and lots of sunscreen I am hoping that I will look my age (or maybe a few years younger) for the rest of my life.

Bottom line, I am just not a huge fan of artificial beauty. Sure I color my hair and bleach my teeth, but you will not see me at the tanning salon, plastic surgeon, or wearing acrylic nails anytime soon. I think the way to remain "youthful" is more likely found by dressing well (ahem dressing your age,) working out, and accepting that you will never look like you are twenty when you are 30+. My role models are people in their 40s who look great for their age, not necessarily younger than their age. Women like Sheryl Crow, Courtney Cox, and Jennifer Aniston who are fit, beautiful, and real, crows feet and all.**

So thank you Anon for your comment. If you have the secret to eternal youth and beauty please feel free to share it with my readers, I'm sure it would be greatly appreciated. While you're at it can you please pass on the key to eternal happiness as well? Until then I'll just be happy with myself exactly the way that I am if you don't mind.

Here are Jen, Courtney, and Sheryl celebrating Jen's 41st birthday last week.

These women make 40 look damn good!

*Bitch

**Yes, I'm sure they have had some injections/ work done over the years, but I think that they look pretty close to their age.

Photo Credit (From Here.)

We Have A Cling On.

A few of you have asked me how the little man has been since we got back from our trip. The short answer? Well, there is no short answer. The long answer? Whew, where do I begin.

When we walked in the door the little man was finishing up his afternoon nap. We were able to sneak in and surprise him and he was absolutely thrilled to see us. For about 2 minutes. Okay, maybe 3. Once he was done with his quick hello he began to morph into some sort of demonic being (most commonly referred to as a terrible two year old.) Think of the little girl in the exorcist. Yeah, that bad. This lasted for about 5 days (5 really, really, really, long days.) My in-laws swore up and down that he was pretty much a perfect angel while we were gone (I still am not sure if I believe them) so he was pretty much just possessed because we finally came home.

I can only relate this to when you leave you pet alone and for about a week they pay you back every day for it when you get back. We used to have a cat (yes, the one my husband shipped off) and whenever we would come back from a long vacation she would punish us by tearing up everything in the house and pretty much denying us any attention until she got over it. My past week was something like that with the little man except it was MUCH, MUCH, MUCH, MUCH worse. Why? Because unlike that sweet kitty, my little man can run, scream, hit, bite, and pretty much make life miserable, which he definitely tried to do.

After those 5 days of limit testing "fun" my little man pretty much reverted back to his happy-go-lucky self (oh, how I love that kid) and in the end the 5 days of terror were well worth the 11 days of fun in the sun. I realize that a two year old can't really express their emotions yet, and this was just his way of telling us that he missed us. I would have preferred a card but that also got the message across.

Now things are pretty much back to normal. Well, almost. The thing that's changed? The little man now refuses to leave my side. As in, HE WILL NOT LET GO OF ME. Ever. Not at all. Nada. We walk hand-in-hand wherever we go. When we sit he holds on to my sweater. When we go to class (art, soccer) I have to run alongside him so he can see me at all times.

Yep, we've got a stage 4 cling on.

Normally, I wouldn't mind the extra attention and to be honest most of the time it is rather cute. Cute until I need to actually do something. Something like cook dinner, go to the bathroom, take a shower, or go to the gym (I have been paged out twice this week because he won't stop crying for mama.) Needless to say it has made things a little more difficult, but again I recognize he is two and I'm sure in his little brain he is convinced that if I leave his side he may never see me again.

Friday we are off for a trip just the two of us to California for a week and then to Orlando for another week. I'm thinking that by the time we get back the little man will be so sick of me that he will be begging me to go away again. I'd settle for 5 minutes in the shower at this point so a girl can dream.

Little emotions are tough and I can only hope we didn't do any "real" damage by getting some alone time. I'm sure we will all recover and this time next year I'll be writing about something similar so for now my little cling on and I will continue to go through our day attached at the hip. At least all of this togetherness has made for some great pictures. Here is the little man playing Mr. Potato Head (remember that game?) Yes, he thinks that he is the potato and isn't quite sure why the Mr. gets all of the good accessories.

Learning to accessorize? Maybe with all this time together I'm finally rubbing off...

The Percent Game.

• We have one frozen embryo. (which means 95% of the egglets we took out didn't make it to day 5)
• On a scale of 1 to 100 our doctor gave our little guy a 95 %. (this is really really good)
• It has less than 5% fragmentation. (less than 25% is good.)
• It has an 80% chance of surviving the freeze. (possibly higher due the high quality)
• There is a 60% chance that the embryo will implant resulting in pregnancy. (pray)
• I 100% really, really, really, really, really want this to work. (just throwing that out into the universe.)

Right now we are playing the waiting game, and in my head I keep playing the percent game. It looks like our transfer will take place near the end of March so until then there is nothing to do but run the numbers and keep the hope alive.

(Photo Credit: From Here)

What A Girl Has To Do For A Yoga Class. Part 2.

Yesterday 9:00am.

Scene. The little man and I are fully dressed for a day at the bookstore followed by a much needed morning yoga class for mom. We excitedly walk into the garage talking about all of the fun that we are about to have.

Me: Crap.

LM: What happened momma?

Me: Daddy took the car to work.

LM: Uh Oh.

Me: The car with the stroller in the back.

LM: No stroller?

(deep breath, and a furious phone call to Daddy)

Me: Please, please, please tell me you took the stroller out of the trunk.

Husband: Yeah, you're dreaming... next time try reminding me.

Me: What the eff am I supposed to do now?

Husband: Take the backpack.

Me: The backpack that was made for a kid 1/2 his size? The backpack that weighs 14 lbs? The backpack that will weigh almost 50 lbs when I put the little man in it. That backpack? You want me to take that all the way to the train, then to the mall, then to the gym?

Husband: Yep, that's the one.

Me: Crap.

He may have been more than a few pounds over the *recommended* height and weight limit but I figured since we weren't climbing Everest there wasn't any "real" danger (except to my spine of course.) We survived the journey (oh my poor back) and the little man had a blast, and unlike last time this time I actually made it on time to a great Yoga class.

That being said this is definitely NOT going to be a common occurrence.

Note to self: Buy a second stroller.

Can You Hear Me Now?

While on the Island I expected things to be pretty primitive. What I did not expect to see was the use of cell phones throughout the village. I'm not talking about the tourists here, most of us were too afraid of the roaming costs. No, I'm talking about the residents on the island who all seemed to have personal cell phones. Very rarely did you see someone talking on them, but the use of texting was rampant (as one addict to another no judgment here.)

Welcome to the 21st century. *

I'd like to point out that I can't even get a good signal anywhere in Boston. Hmmm I wonder who their carrier is?

* All photos taken with permission, I swear I'm not a cell phone stalker although my iphone was greatly missed.

My Mouth Feels A Little Numb.

While we were on the island we were lucky enough to take part in a traditional Kava ceremony. Kava is a drink made from a root that is pounded and mixed with water. It looks and tastes a bit like mud, and the only effect that I felt was a numb mouth and later I had some crazy dreams. The locals swear by this stuff and I can assure you that this is a drink not just made for tourists. The Fijians love, love, love it and as part of the ceremony all tourists "gift" it to the chief and his tribe. In return we get to sit around partake in one of the coolest experiences of my life.

Behold the Kava ceremony.

First the root is pounded with a heavy metal rod. When I say heavy I mean HEAVY.

They ask for help from all the "strong" men on the island. They told us that pounding the Kava is supposed to increase fertility. You know I got my man right in on that one.

After it takes a beating the powder is poured into a large bowl.

Then mixed with water with something that looks like a sock.

The final result. Nope that's not mud.. that's what you drink.

We then line up next to our cups.

And are brought our offering.

A quick bow.

Down the hatch it goes.

After we were all loosened up we were provided with the greatest show on Earth.

This was the party of the decade/century as far as I'm concerned. I feel so grateful that we were able to participate in something so special with such an amazing group of people.

And... I swear my lips are still numb.