Dumb shit my kid did this week (and it's only Wednesday)

1. Fell down on Little People Batcave. Cut chin.

2. Threw the Little People Nativity across the room. Baby Jesus: currently missing.

3. Went head-first down the tall slide three times in a row, like he was the only thing standing between the Cubs and a national championship.

4. Refused to take a nap this morning. Spent otherwise good "Mommy alone time" yelling, throwing things, stumbling around the house while moaning, and pooping.

5. Lost a brand new toy at the park. (This is actually my fault. That makes it even worse.)

6. Gets out of the bathtub, refuses to be dried, marches into the hallway and just pees everywhere. Then tries to play in it.

7. Got in a fight with a cardboard box. Lost.

8. Banged his head on the bottom step (trying to go up). I hold out my arms to comfort him. Instead, he turns his back on me and climbs back onto the bottom step and immediately falls off. Hits head. Repeat.

9. Has ripped out every single person in every single pop-up book (which is why we buy them at consignment sales).

10. Somehow got a bloody lip between the family room and kitchen. I turn around one minute, turn back the next, and the kid's got blood all over his hands.

You would be crazy if you lived with him, too.

Warm-Up

Sometimes it helps to write before I start to write.

I've wanted to be a lot of things in my 31 years, most notably a general surgeon (strangely specific for a 7th grader) and a dog (unfortunately not possible, but a four-year-old has to have dreams). But never, ever did I think that I would actually get to be a writer. 

In my mind, real people don't get to be writers. Writers are made up of the same things as actors and musicians - self-reflective creative geniuses who are on a higher plane than everyone else. Sure, I've always written, mostly fiction and essays from third grade on, but I didn't think I would ever be paid to write.

But for the past two and a half years, people have paid me to write. I write all sorts of things now - continuing education review courses, textbook copy, online catalog copy, nonfiction and, yes, sometimes fiction. I've learned that I have a specific voice when I write catalog copy; cheerful, tongue-in-cheek, and very "weary-yet-knowledgable-woman-of-the-world." And, strangely, I'm rather good at writing children's poetry. It's a definite niche, that skill, and one I probably wouldn't have discovered had I not been let go from a job in advertising a few years ago. And once more, I am so greatful for that stroke of bad luck, for a crappy economy and an industry-wide panic. I remember sitting in my boss's office, looking out the window into a dreary, gray sky as I was told that I was no longer needed. I knew I should be worried, I knew I should be upset, but all I thought was, "Now I can finally do something I really like."

This isn't a story about how dreams come true or about following your true passion. It's really about how I have to write 1,000 words about Greek astronomy and I needed to warm up  my fingers and brain before I could start. Pythagoras - what DIDN'T that guy do?

Hip hop hippo

I'm not a big holiday person. I do get kind of jazzed about Literacy Day, and I'll admit I get a little gooey on Valentine's Day. But having a little dude to dress makes Halloween a whole new ballgame. I especially love that he has no idea what's going on, so I can dress him however I want. I kicked around the idea of a baby Dwight Schrute, or maybe the old guy from Up, but really, let's give the people what they want.

Small children dressed like animals.

I mourn the fact that I never dressed Henry in a fluffy bear suit, or even in a pumpkin costume. He seems a little too old for both of those things now (eating ham by the fistful will age a person), so I needed to come up with someone that was both adorable and fit his personality.

Hippopotomus it is.

Did you know that hippos are some of the most dangerous animals in the world? And that a non-walking toddler with a penchant for death-defying dives into the side of the bathtub can give a hippo a run for its money? OF COURSE I had to make him a hippo costume. I started with a basic Simplicity Halloween pattern - it could be turned into a bear, a mouse, a dinosaur, a devil, and an angel (we will not be needing that one). I pinched the ears with safety pins and tada! Hippo:

(I didn't finish the headpiece because a) he wasn't going to keep it on and b) lining it would have probably made it too small. )

He's too little to trick-or-treat, so we went to Boo at the Zoo for his grand unveiling. He generally doesn't care about the zoo - he's never really interacted with any of the animals, or even really seemed to notice them. Once, when he was only eight months old or so, he showed a little interest in the hippos. Since then, nothing.

But when one is dressed like a hippo, one must commune with the hippos.

Hippo, meet hippo.I'm not really a hippo. I'm a little boy.Hippo is not impressed.I learned so much sewing this costume. I'd never successfully sewn a garment before, and I'll be the first to say that I kicked ass on this one. Set-in sleeves, ribbed cuffs, and even a neckband were all executed to the highest levels of mediocrity. I couldn't be more proud. I'm itching to make him some real clothes that don't require headgear.

We are crazy, so we took that kid to Disney World.

To say I was panicked about our October trip to Disney World isn't entirely correct. But it's also not entirely incorrect. My in-laws were headed to Orlando for a work thing, and they invited us to join them for some good times at the happiest place on Earth. Upon receving the invitation, I immediately thought:

* Yes. I love Disney World.

* What the hell is a 15-month-old going to do at Disney World?

Answer: he's going to go on rides, swim in a guitar-shaped pool, and ride a bus, a tram, an airplane, a minivan (we don't have one, so it was a novelty), and even an elephant. He's going to meet princesses, visit Hogsmede (we made a pit stop at Universal's Islands of Adventure), and enjoy the hell out of the Tiki Room. And he's going to eat everything in sight.

Starting the eating early: 4 a.m.

Disney World is actually surprisingly great for even the littlest of dudes. He's still not walking on his own (a story for another day), so we used the stroller and our carrier. He slept in both much, much better than we expected. He was worn out from the aforementioned eating and constantly entertaining both (!) sets of grandparents. He's too little to be afraid of the dark (in fact, I don't think he's afraid of ANYTHING, which is terrifying), so we could go on some of the darker, scarier rides at Epcot and the Magic Kingdom. He crashed pretty hard every night, usually an hour past his regular bedtime, sometimes later. (The first night was horrific. He was ready to get all Andrew WK and party hard, our alarm clock was running at double-speed or something crazy like that, and nobody got to sleep until after midnight. We also learned why Henry has never slept in our bed.)

Even the line for the Tiki Room was super fun (but Granddad was on his Blackberry, which is even MORE fun).My favorite moments:

* When Henry woke up at the beginning of Captain EO and wanted to turn around and watch it. He refused to wear his 3D glasses.

* Meeting Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and a pretty lame Rapunzel.

* Swimming at the hotel. That kid loves to swim no matter how cold the water is.

* Picking out a stuffed version of Pigwidgeon (Ron Weasley's owl) for Henry. He absolutely adores it.

* Watching him during the Tiki Room. He was laughing and singing and kicking his little legs. I couldn't keep my eyes off him.

* Getting to see the grandparents enjoy every single minute with that kid.

* The endless hugs and kisses he gave me in line to see the princesses.

* The terrifying moment minutes before Justin and I went on the big scary Harry Potter roller coaster when Justin noted, "Sometimes I black out on roller coasters."

* Trying all of the different foods at the Epcot Food and Wine Festival. I had high hopes for the lobster roll, but the steamed beef bun won my heart.

* This:

Practically perfect in every way.

Things I'm thinking about instead of finishing my work for the night.

1. I would like to make a Waldorf doll, specifically an awesome one like this or this. But I want to keep it for myself. Which means that I'll have to make two, because H will undoubtedly steal one of them. (His best friend is this guy. We call him Freddie. Freddie gets a lot more kisses than I do.)

2. I have not machine-sewn a stitch since June. Work and offspring have kept me occupied, and now it's to the point where I'm afraid of sewing all over again. I was doing so well, too. I think I need to make something small this weekend - table runner? Placemats? Napkins? Any suggestions?

3. I successfully completed the Summer of Stash. No fabric or yarn was purchased between May and September. Since I haven't really made a huge dent in the stash during the past few months, I think the Summer of Stash will morph into Fall of Frugality (followed by Winter of Woe).

4. Deep down, all I really want to do is curl up with any episode of Sherlock and some nice thick knitting. My Sherlock obsession is becoming somewhat fan-girlish, but have you seen his cheekbones? (For the record, I prefer him with dark hair. And Martin Freeman by his side.)

5. For some inexplicable reason, getting oatmeal out of this:

is a whole lot easier than getting it out of this: