I'm baaaaaaaack

N and I flew in on Tuesday from our visit to Canada. It was okay. It was really nice to see my grandparents again for what was probably the last time, and by the end of our visit, N liked them, too. The rest of the trip on the island wasn't nearly as fun. For one thing, Nana and Gramps' house was much easier to N-proof than this place was, the second thing was that N's bottom two molars decided that just being through wasn't enough, and that more pain could still be caused, the third thing was that the top two decided to act up with a vengeance, and the fourth thing was that in spite of my parents saying they'd be glad to help me with the care and feeding of N in the absence of my husband, they would take him just long enough for me to get into the really nice, deep sleep of a newly pregnant woman, then they'd run into the room, dump N on me and say they were 'running-over-to-so-and-so's-cabin-here's-the-baby-wake-up-now.' This left an extremely groggy me with a cranky baby who wanted to know where his adoring subjects suddenly went. He also started missing DH really badly about 2 days into it. Nothing would make him happy, he just wandered around the house aimlessly, pushing his cars around and whining because he wanted Dah. I don't want to take a trip with a young child without B again. Not fun at all. He did beautifully on the flights up. No ear problems or anything. The flights back weren't as fun. They were earlier in the day (right around naptime), he was cranky, and he figured out how to kick the seat in front of him. Fortunately, a three year old was in the seat, and didn't seem to care. Many, many thanks to the parents of AJ for having such a wonderful child. May you reap the benefits of his sweetness for the rest of your lives. :) On the 2nd flight home, N kicked the seat of the nice older lady sitting in front of us. I asked the flight attendant if they could offer her a nicer seat, and apologized profusely. She said not to worry about it and that she'd stay where she was. I kind of wish she had moved. I felt like I had to worry about the seat kicking the whole time. Fortunately though, N fell asleep about 15 minutes into the flight, and stayed asleep until we deplaned. Now, for my brilliant idea of the month. I think that airplanes should have family seating sections. I don't really mind sitting in front of a little kid--having one, I know what to expect, but I felt irritated that I had to worry so much about his behavior on the flight back. He's 13 months old, for crying out loud. He's going to fuss, and probably be cranky during the flight. I just hated seeing the other passengers wince when they saw us get on the plane. I heard a few of them mutter to their seatmates that they hoped we'd be far away. I think it'd just be easier if they could group all of the kids together in one area, maybe with a teeeensy bit more leg room (so we don't feel so much like sardines, and seat-kicking is more difficult), and with toys and kids' books in the pockets. Kids like to be near other kids, so I think that'd help cut down on the noise. Our smoothest flights were when there were other kids in the seats in front of or behind us. So....that's my novel for the evening. I'll have to keep this thing updated more often.

I. Hate. Teething.

N's teething again. All four molars. The bottom two have gone from nasty looking little points to little razor blades peeking out from angry gums. The top two are still in the nasty looking little points stage. I hope he's feeling better by Wednesday. We're leaving then for Canada to visit my grandparents. At this time next week, I'll be on an island with nothing to do but watch my baby, hang out with my family, hike, and read. I'm really starting to look forward to this. In the meantime, I hate teething. N's snotty. Very snotty. Now, I'm snotty, too. The snot may not be teething on his part, it's definitely not teething on my part. It feels like a sinus infection. We're off to the doctor tomorrow to make sure that this isn't anything that will put my grandparents at any sort of risk. They're getting old, and their health isn't what it used to be. I will also be asking the doctor tomorrow (he's a family doc) if he feels comfortable being my backup physician for my this birth. I didn't meet the backup OB last time, and I'm not sure how I feel about actually having to see a doctor more than once. I get really nervous around doctors, and the last thing I need is a case of white-coat syndrome messing with my normally beautiful blood pressure. We'll find out. He's pretty laid-back, and has been our doctor for years, so I think he'll be understanding. Anyway, I'm sooooooo sleepy. I'm off to bed with a huge glass of water. Night.

The Final Installation in the Wedding Trilogy

We get the stupid flower petals replaces, and Flower Girl (who is beyond adorable, btw) gets pictures taken. The rest of the people show up, and the rest of the pictures are done. The guests start arriving, and Bridezilla goes to hide by the vintage fire engine. We start the ceremony, which goes off with the minor hitch of an usher trying to jump in and lay down the aisle runner (a clear plastic last minute addition), and knocking over a chair in the process. But that did not draw eyes away from Bridezilla, who looked gorgeous. The ceremony went off perfectly, and I was even able to nab a few minutes to nurse N, who was extremely hot, cranky, and nurse-y. I was wearing a button down dress, and the benefit of a wedding ceremony is that all eyes are on the bride, so no one pays attention to me with an open dress. LOL So anyway, N is fed, and goes off with Daddy to be amused for the rest of the evening. The friends she has designated to set out the food are watching the entire ceremony, per her request, so the food is not being set up. Anyway, ceremony over, and Bridezilla's so carefully arranged order of recessional gets a little mixed up between the bride's family and the groom's, and Bridezilla doesn't see one bit of it. Darn. The pastor directs everyone toward the food tables, which, are not set up. The food girls rush over and frantically start to set up the food table. A couple of the guests observe this, and rush over to help us. Okay, I have some rather strong opinions on weddings, and one of them is that it is rude to invite people to a party, then force them through circumstances to help set it up. JMO. The cake was already set up, but because she wanted to get married outside in July, the frosting's starting to shift, and the coconut (ew) cake is starting to melt a bit. We hope she doesn't notice. Anyway, the food gets set up, everyone eats, and because Bridezilla wanted to skimp on the drinks ("I don't want people drinking too much, so I didn't get tons and tons, but it should be just enough.") we have one bottle of generic Sprite left for the punch before the evening's over. Someone goes to get water, so there's at least a little of that to drink. The toasting and dancing gets started. I mention to the MOH that due to the fact that it's now nearly 90 degrees, and we're outside, and the cake's been sitting out for close to an hour and a half, it's starting to melt, and she needs to get over here, and cut the thing ASAP. Bridezilla's very understanding (point for her), and I sincerely hope she doesn't try to get out of paying the bill for the cake. The baker does not control the weather anymore than I control goose-poop on the sidewalks. The cake is cut, served, and rejected by most of the guests in favor of the leftover chocolate cake from the rehearsal dinner the night before (yay Macaroni Grill). The dancing and general party goes beautifully. Bridezilla gets a little cranky when her friends with kids start to leave (um, if she'd rather have screaming children at her party, then that's fine with me, but my kid needs his bedtime), but is too busy dancing to be too disappointed. A few park-goers stop to watch the couple dance, with happy smiles on their faces. I hope she doesn't bitch about them when she gets back. I think it was touching. I don't know if she saw them. Anyway, it's now 9:30 at night, I've been out here, at the park, in the sun, since Noon and 3:3o respectively. My sunscreen went AWOL, so I've had no sun protection, I'm feeling tired, crampy, woozy, and just plain exhausted. So, at the insistence of the baker, the MOH, the other bridesmaid, the father of the bride, and the best man's wife who had been assigned to help me, I went ahead and left, hoping that everything was in good hands. Since the FOB had arranged for a clean-up crew, I wasn't too worried. Now, if I can just track down the deejay and get my cds (used for the ceremony) back.

Picking up where I left off...

While the shortbread I made this evening cools its little heels on the stove.

Anyway, the parks dept official came by, and we asked how to get the chairs over to the gazebo. We were told we'd have to carry them, as we were not allowed to drive on the grass. It is a park, after all. As soon as Official leaves, Bridezilla turns to the chair guy, and says, "I don't care what they said, you pull that truck up here." So he did. Everything the parks dept said, she ignored. She had been told (as had I) that we could put up signs in the parking lot saying, "His/Her Wedding This Way," but could not take over the whole parking lot, nor mention parking, as it was public. The signs all said, "Wedding parking here," and were put up in the only parking lot, which had plenty of space. Fortunately, the hoi polloi parked there anyway. While setting up the chairs, we discover that the ground is soft from the rain a few days before, and that putting chairs in that formation will make for one squishy row, so we rearrange the chairs, and fortunately, she doesn't get to see them. Before she left to go get her hair done, she called the parks department, and complained about there being goose poop on the sidewalks. There was a large, lovely flock of Canada geese that had been roosting in the vicinity. They actually matched the groomsmens' vests. She was complaining mightily to the rest of us, when I reminded her that there are people that pay top dollar to have swans walking around at their weddings, and that she got this lovely flock of beautiful, coordinating (and remarkably quiet) geese for free. The least she could do would be to go do something else and quit worrying about it. She leaves for hair and nails, and right as the last chairs were unloaded from the truck, a parks dept vehicle pulls up, and a very nice gentleman reminds us that we really should not have the truck on the grass, and that we shouldn't be there until 6, but that they aren't going to bother us about it now, as long as Someone stops calling the dept and harassing his staff about things like dirt and goose poop in a public park. Bridezilla's dad and I apologize profusely for her actions, and thank Gentleman for their flexibility, assuring him that we are genuinely appreciative and that Bridezilla will trouble his staff no more. At this point, I leave to go get baskets for the recessional. She wanted them filled with rose petals for people to throw as they left the ceremony. It was beautiful. So anyway, I leave people setting up chairs, and taping down tablecloths, because this is Kansas, and there's wind here. She calls me 5 minutes from Hobby Lobby, and proceeds to start screaming at me about how no one could count, and she couldn't believe that the groom's family (who are really decent people, 'even if they are Catholic' @@) wasn't smart enough to put the right table cloths on the right tables. 9 tables (because not all of the guests need to sit at a table), 9 table cloths. That simple. She specifically gave a future in-law a table cloth for the cake. How could she be so stupid as to lose it??? No! We were NOT going to spend the extra $3 to get an extra table cloth. She had it planned perfectly. By this time, she's escalated to a shrill whine. At this point, I lost my patience, and for the first time in weeks, told her to quit yelling at me and go call someone who was actually at the park and could do something about the @!(*&$# tablecloth. So she does. Anyway, I buy baskets (which were the wrong ones, even though they were the only ones of which the store had 20), and I head to my house, which is on the way to the park, to get dressed. While I'm there, the groom calls. His family needs to go get dressed, and could I pick up some ice on my way down? His family leaves a BIL at the park to wait for me, then takes off to get dressed, because pictures are at 4:45 and it's now almost 3:30. I get there, BIL leaves, and I sit around in a public park, by myself, until the florists arrive for a whopping 5 minutes to drop everything off. Then I'm on my own again. All of the flowers are beautiful, although Bridezilla bitches about the size of her bouquet. She went to see it earlier that morning. She could have told them she wanted it bigger, even though she didn't need it. It was purple roses and calla lilies--very sweet. So at 4:45, the whole groom's side of the family arrives, and by 5:15, we're only missing the bride. This is starting to become a pattern. At the rehearsal, she demanded that none of us eat until she arrived for the dinner, then she waltzed in nearly an hour late, with no apology.
She and her dad show up, and she's not happy about being late for pictures. Nor is she happy about the fact that none of us attempted suicide by decorating, or that all of the goose poop is off of the side walks. We distract her by setting her up for pictures, while I start to get the food out. Her friend E came to help me, and brought her the flower girl basket, which was full of rose petals. Bridezilla takes one look at them, goes rigid, and says through her teeth, "Those are NOT the right petals." So E and I go through all of the aisle baskets and switch out the pink and yellow petals for purple and white ones.

N's awake. The saga will continue...