On the Clock

So somewhere, somehow, Jack has learned how to tell time. Unfortunately, this does not necessarily include the input of a clock. Today as we were watching our morning cartoons, I told him, "As soon as this show is over, we are leaving for school." (He likes to be told in advance what is next on his itinerary...not unlike Donald Trump.)

"OK Mama, but that is not for 10 minutes." And he was right!! He has this bizarre internal clock that really works. And 9-minutes later he says to me, "Maybe one more show?" Such a finagler. He tries this at bedtime, and he knows when I am too tired to put up a fight. He looks into my eyes and judges the amount of energy I have left in my body to deal with him, and if it's low enough, he turns on the charm. The other night he convinced me that we should watch Futurama in my bed before bedtime, and since it was only 8pm, I agreed...foolishly. Well, we got cozy with the lights off and I immediately fell asleep--leaving him to watch an episode of Futurama and an hour of the news--before he woke me up (by slapping my face repeatedly).

"Mommy!" he said, "it's past my bedtime!"

Fun on the Bun

Jack (from the bathroom, loudly): Stanley's watching me poop!
Me (shouting to the bathroom): Just do it anyway!
Jack (still screaming): Stanley! Look at my shits!
Me: Jack, we do NOT say that word.
Jack (falsetto): Look at my pooooooo-oooops!
Me: That is better!

Also, Jack got a new Batman Batcave toy this weekend, that is equipped with an "elvabator." Hearing him use that word over and over has made it worth all $40.

Beach

The Dolibers will be arrive this week from Colorado to accompany us to the beach in Topsail. (North Carolinians love to pronounce things in a non-phonetic way. This beach is called "top-selle" just in case you want to sound cool when you talk about it.) This is the best beach that I have ever been to in the continental US. The water isn't Carribbean-clear like Florida's, but it is clear enough to see the bottom--and gorgeously blue-green. Plus the actual BEACH part is perfect for everything...it is soft, flat and wide, with a small sandbar that is exposed at low tide, leaving a channel of warmer water that is perfect for kids to play in and adults to float in on rafts without being pulled down-shore by the tide. There are no life-guards, crowds, or seagulls, mostly pelicans and little water-birds that eat the sandcrabs and clams. We take the dogs, who run around like crazy and splash, and also can relax at the house that we rent, right on the beach. As far as I am concerned, this is the only way to vacation. And it's 2-hours from our house.

I am really looking forward to Jack playing in the sand this year. He was not into it last year and got sick as well, so the trip was a little stressful. This year he is very into building and organizing, so I anticipate some glorious sand structures in his future. He is also at the age where I have my first memories of going to the beach with my Dad's family, before Leslie was even born, and they are some of the best. It makes me feel good to know that we are giving him some of the same comforting and fun rememberances that I have from my childhood...back when I was an only-child. Hehe.

Overheard

Dan: Don't punch me in the stomach, Jack!
Jack: Ow, my bowels!

Backfires

I have been trying to teach Jack how to make jokes. He clearly needs a new way to channel his blossoming sense of humor that doesn't involve fists or pulling down pants. As I was helping him into his pajamas, he stood before me in his little underpants.

"Hey Jack, what's under there?" I asked, pointing to his briefs, THINKING that he would reply, "Under where?" and I could explain the joke.

"MY PENIS!" He screamed with glee. "It's just wiggling around in there!"

Sunday Ridiculousness

We are watching an admittedly adult sit-com while Jack plays on the floor. Someone on the television says, '"...he can't even sleep with a woman."

"SLEEP WITH A WOMAN!?!?!" Jack yells at the TV incredulously, "What are you TALKING about?!?"

...

Earlier today Dan and Jack were playing catch with a small kickball on the back staircase. It involved lots of man-giggling from each of them. Dan pitched the ball up the steps and hit Jack in the rump. "OW! Right in my backyard!" Jack yelled. A few minutes later Dan nails him in the head and Jack screams, "Right in my phone book!"

Dr. J

After dinner tonight Jack was administering his particular brand of medicine to everyone, especially my Dad who had come over to eat. After checking all of his vitals, Jack says, "Yep. You're old."

No, I am not Santa.

There is nothing like a burgeoning belly to make you feel isolated...at the top of your body. I can no longer see past my belly. Like a rocky swell before the looming mountain range, my chest is merely a small hill before the rounded peak of my tummy blocks any sight of my southern half. Presumably, this creates some problems...especially for shirts. I have stubbornly been wearing my Life Is Good wardrobe along with running shorts for the majority of this pregnancy. Well, unbeknownst to me, my belly has been peeking out of the bottom of my shirt. Who knows how long this has been occurring...not me---the me who is situated at the north pole of this planet of a body. So I will be purchasing some "cute" tent-like shirts soon. Or else falling back on my nudist whippet farm idea.

Hil-Hil-Hilarious

Jack thinks that cramming a handful of fruit loops down my cleavage is the height of humor. He will make a totally awesome frat dude.

Happy 33%

This weekend Dan and I celebrated our 5-year wedding anniversary, and the fact that we have been together for 10 years. TEN. I told him, "I've wasted, er, spent 1/3 of my life with you!"

We dropped Jack and doggies off with my parents (sorry Mom!) and drove down to Wrightsville to lay on the beach in utter quietude. It was amazing, and it was only 4 hours and 12 minutes into our little vacation before we dropped the J-bomb (a conversation about Jack). You know how people joke about how the minute you get away from your kids you start talking about them? Well that's not funny.

The beach was all of my dreams come true, breezy and warm. There were some little kids running around near the water and squealing, and it was so nice to hear it from far away and know that it required NONE of our attention. Ah bliss.

We checked into an amazing bed and breakfast, The Graystone Inn, and were instantly transported back to 1905 where houses were beautiful and showers were small. Dan and I both used the early 20th century claw-foot tub with trepidation (some of us because we are rounder than usual and some of us because we are round). Then, down the cobble-stone streets of old town Wilmington to the Pilot House where we ate right on the river! It was glorious and the wind blew my hair out of my face all evening with what I imagined to be a romantic effect, and hopefully distracted Dan from my upper-belly crumb-collecting as we ate oysters, low-country seafood and amazing desserts. I would highly recommend both of these places for anyone with taste-buds and a love of comfortable beds.

Then off to tour the 25-some small bars and bistros throughout the town...OR, in reality, back to the B&B for an early bedtime because we were stuffed and old. As we lay on our huge four-poster fancy bed, Dan asked, "Is it even nine o'clock yet??" I cringed as I told him the time...8:28pm! I can't tell you how lovely it was to relax without having to corral children and animals, without having to give baths, feed, clean, clothe and coax to bed the small creatures of my life.

I was up early to give Dan lessons on how to open shades (I'm resisting the urge to make a joke about quick tugs here) and we had breakfast in the enormous dining room of our Clue-mansion-like vacation home. Legitimate French toast stuffed with cream-cheese with a hint of lime. Fresh fruit, fresh pastries, their own brand of coffee and fresh OJ. We sat with a lovely couple from California who couldn't get over how lush and green North Carolina was. It was fun to revel in the things that we take for granted with them.

So we left gorgeous Wilmington with only minor casualties--a sunburned shoulder (me) and a sunburned belly-button (Dan) because WHO DOESN'T PUT SUNSCREEN IN THEIR BELLY-BUTTON? As we made our way home to rescue my parents, Dan couldn't stop talking about Jack. Personally I could have used another day and night of vacation from my critters, but it was killing Dan to be away from them...he clearly needs mental help.