If you’re wondering what this is all about. Here it is. Grab a tissue and enjoy. Clearly we did.

We hyped up this weekend a ton.  We promised all these fabulous features we really weren’t positive were even at this farm we were going to.  Everyday we would say, “Charlotte, do you want to go to a farm?!  Won’t that be so fun!?”  She’s in this phase where she agrees with pretty much everything we say.  I could have said, “Do you want to drink tuna juice?!” and she would have been psyched.

It was her good buddy Adalyn’s 2nd birthday party.  This place has all the autumn goodness a kid could hope for and a parent could photograph.

We were those a-hole parents that totally got there late.  It was entirely my fault. It’s about a 45 minute drive to get to the farm and I thought we could get there late and it wouldn’t be a problem.  Wrong!  They were waiting for us to start the hayride as we hurried to the entrance.  Greyson and I were mid-argument about the diaper bag as we rushed and dropped things.  I guiltily greeted the birthday girl’s parents and off we went.

For 99% of the party, it was wonderful!  Charlotte and Adalyn call each other Chasie and Addie.  They are truly adorable together.  They are the only girls in their class at school and quite the pair.  Adalyn didn’t like it when Charlotte got too close to her cake and Charlotte seriously envied Adalyn’s presents.  Ah, girlfriends!  It starts early, doesn’t it?

They climbed on the picnic table and dug in the cooler.  We joked with her parents that we should just give them some frozen water instead of taking them on train rides and playground equipment.

Oh, I said 99% didn’t I?  Yeah.  The last 15 minutes were a screaming, thrashing blur of pumpkins and hay.  When I say my child hit the proverbial wall, I mean she lost it.  Completely lost it.  This was the type of tantrum that started with pumpkin selection and ended with a string of snot several inches long, dangling from her pacifier.  Yes, we gave our kid a paci in front of all the other parents who’ve binky-weaned their toddlers.  We had no choice really.  Everyone was staring at her while she screamed like we had shoved bamboo shoots under her fingernails.  I swear we only tried to help her carry a pumpkin too heavy for her to pick up!  But, that was all it took.  It was terrible.  There was nothing we could do to calm her down.  We quickly said goodbye after climbing off the hayride, Greyson fireman carried her out while I juggled a pumpkin with a light coating of snot.

Charlotte was asleep before we got out of the parking lot.  We then had a 45 minute husband/wife discussion on the way home about whether we should seek a child and family therapist to find out what is wrong with our kid.

We figured it out.  She suffers from Naplesstoddleritis.  She was an absolute delight the rest of the weekend.  We agreed as a couple that tantrums would not rule our lives.  We can’t get so upset when she does.  We have to remain calm and realize she’s a 22 month-old who’s exhausted and can’t express herself yet.  That’s okay.  This will pass.  We plan on not reacting so dramatically.  She reacts to us being upset.  We just need to calmly remove her for a time-out.  Notice that’s what Adalyn’s dad was doing in the last picture.

I wrote about this a few weeks ago and many of you had some great ideas for us.  Thank you.  Please let us know if there is something else you think we should have done in this instance.  She was just tired and got mad when we took the pumpkin from her hands.  Thoughts?

 

Today I rushed to get our abode looking pristine for the open house, and gather the large amount of stuff our little family seems to cart around. In my haste I committed a blogger cardinal sin. I left my camera at home. It got worse. I left my phone in the car during a photo worthy moment.

As cliche as it sounds, I’ll have to use my words to paint this picture for you.

During the open house we went to eat at a local pizza place where we could sit outside. The dog was with us. Afterward, Greyson wanted to sit in the car with Ginger so she could be in the cool air. Charlotte and I walked across the street to an ice cream shop.

My sweet girl wasn’t too squirmy as we waited in line behind two large families. I kissed her face still dotted with cheese, remnants of her lunch. I asked her what kind of ice cream she wanted. She smiled and pointed before leaning down to leave her tiny handprint on the frosty glass. I giggled, cherishing the time I have left to pick the flavor before she decides blue raspberry with gummy bears is a good idea.

She surprisingly stayed nearby and didn’t make her usual run for it when I had to put her down to pay. An ice cream cone in hand added to the awkward fumbling of carrying a diaper bag, my purse, and a toddler. But we made it to the bar stools along the edge of the shop, by the windows. The families took the stools so I sat Charlotte up on the bar and stood with her and our treat.

My babe and I shared sweet cream and cold kisses. I let her hold the cone in her chubby fingers. The scoop was about as big as her head, so I had to take bites from the other side to prevent ice cream catastrophe. She thought it was hilarious when I licked the same time she did. We bumped noses and licked fingers. The fast melting cone left deliciously sticky tracks down her arms. The teenagers behind the counter pumped some bumpin’ Top 40 over the speakers. This led to Charlotte bouncing to the music. Naturally, we had to dance a little. She laughed when I got silly and slurped up drips off her arm to the beat of the song.

A mother nearby looked at her messy face said, “You need to take a picture!”

Yeah. I wanted to. But, I could only take a mental picture. So I did. I locked in the image forever of my beautiful, growing baby with glowing blue eyes, light brown curls tied up in a pink bow, and feet dangling off the counter in toddler sneakers. Oh! And those cheeks! Still soft and round like a baby’s, smeared with melted ice cream, grinning up at me.

We polished off the cone and went to meet Daddy in the car. When we got there he said, “I watched you from the window and fell in love all over again. You two were having fun. You love your girl!” I reminded him how much I love him too.

It seemed I wasn’t the only one taking a mental picture. Remind me to forget the camera more often.

Last night we had to put back all the picture frames, vases, artificial plants, (I am the Jack Kevorkian of house plants.) candles, and various knick knacks I never dust. We were uprooted this weekend for renovations.

Nearly every candleholder or frame he picked up, Greyson said, “Where does this go?” Or, “Uh. Here. You put this one away. I don’t know where it goes.”

I remind you we’ve lived in this house for 7 years. I gawked at him, exasperated and asked, “How do you not know that picture goes on the shelf by the TV?!”

He said, “Amy, who’s the starting running back for Auburn this year?”

::blink::

“Uh, I don’t know,” I replied, unsure of where he was going with this one.

He said, “Yeah, and why don’t you know? Because you don’t care!”

“I care about College Football!!! But, not that much,” I said honestly.

“Exactly! I care about decorating, but not that much,” he replied, and handed me another frame.

Just FYI, this is Tre Mason. Many (a.k.a. Greyson) believe he will be Auburn’s starting RB this year. War Eagle!

I had a friend at work remind me that Friday is the opening ceremony for the Summer Olympic Games in London. The last time the Olympic torch was lit, I got knocked up.

Greyson and I have joked that we got pregnant the night of the Opening Ceremony of the winter games in Vancouver back in 2010. The Parade of Nations gets boring! What can we say?! We were smooching on the couch by the time the delegation from Azerbaijan entered the arena.

The last day of the games we watched the gold medal hockey game with our friends. I went home to take a test and passed with the flying colors of the five rings. Well, a pink line anyway. (I understand that biologically the timing of this may be off. It’s just a funny prediction.)

Greyson looked at me yesterday with a cocked eyebrow (that’s his most seductive look) and said, “Hey Hot Stuff, you think we’ll make it through this Olympics without making another baby?” I assured him under no circumstance would we be making another little Team USA fan this year.

However, if David Beckham makes an appearance in the opening ceremonies, I may start feeling a little randy. It is the XXX Olympic Games.