A Week of One

This week Cabin Girl and Cabin Boy #1 are staying with family across the state, so it's just Cabin Boy #2 with the Captain and I.

Just CB2.  

It is so weird.  

It's quiet.  It's less messy.  It's more manageable.  

And my awesome brain decided a while ago that, during this week, I would get shit done.

But, I'm vetoing that decision now that we're here.

Because CB2 has never had the one-on-one time his siblings had.  CG was an only child for over 3 years.  CB1 had solo time with me for 2 years while CG was in preschool a few hours most of the week.

 
So this week, I am devoting myself to focusing on this one child.

Listening to this one pair of feet pitter-patter.

Feeding this one demanding mouth.

Snuggling this one warm body.

Playing with this one curious mind.

Burbling this one soft belly.


Naptimes and bedtimes have been rough already.  He doesn't know what to think about big brother not being in the room with him at night.  And there have been a few times he's asked for sissy, not quite understanding what I mean when I say she's not here.

For now though, he's enjoying the choice movie spot on the couch, without having to fight for it.

Theme Thursday: Road Trip

Back when Cabin Girl was about 18 months, the Captain was offered an interview for an apprenticeship program across the state.  Since this was the first of several potential trips, we decided to go as a family.  For fun.

Our first 4.5 hour road trip.  Over long, dreary stretches of plains and desert, then through two separate winding mountain passes.  With an 18 month old.  FUN.

We made it through the first 2.5 hours fine.  Through the boring stretches, over a colossal river, and through one twisty pass Cabin Girl napped a bit and we kept her occupied with snackadoos.  We made a pit stop at the 'halfway point' city along our charted course and grabbed some golden arches for lunch (this was well before I had any inkling as to what GMOs and junk were).

Cabin Girl had greedily inhaled her hamburger (read: bun) and sucked down her juice, and was happily munching on some french fries as we started our downhill descent through the second, bigger pass.

We were cruising along in our Honda Accord and I turn to see if CG needs anything, only to discover her vomiting.  All over herself.  A LOT.

We were still at least an hour from our destination.

A few truckers probably wondered what the hell we were doing, stripping our baby down to her diaper on the side of the soggy interstate (Did I mention we were heading towards the Puget Sound?  Seattle weather.  Awesome stuff.).
 

Photo from Wikipedia
Pretty right?  Not so much with vomit all over your car.

The hotel staff sure gave us some strange looks when we checked in; CG wrapped in one of my long sleeve shirts, the Captain with her disassembled car seat in tow.

Thankfully, the shower in our hotel room got both hot enough and had a strong enough stream to clean the car seat well enough for the return trip home.

For which we did not get McDonalds.

My house smells like a sex toy. I swear, it's not what you think.

You know those romance parties?  Groups of ladies gather together to giggle over naughty euphemisms and freely discuss their sexuality, while snacking on suggestively shaped foods and perusing the latest and greatest pleasure enhancing products out there.

I've been to a couple.

They're totally fun.

No, the Captain and I don't NEED anything to enhance our bedroom relationship, but sometimes it's fun to try something new, even if it is a different scented massage oil.

I've brought a few things home from these parties.  Mostly door or game prizes (Who can suck the candy off a Blow Pop the fastest?  This chick.) and a few small purchases, like lube and whatnot.

Things that were used once or twice and promptly forgotten about in my bedside table.

Until now.

When the nearly 2 year old Cabin Boy #2 went perusing through our bedroom drawers while I was cooking dinner and the Captain was showering off his softball game.

For some reason he has a fascination with lotions lately.  Leave the toothpaste within his reach and he'll squeeze half the tube out in a heartbeat:

Why yes, my bathroom does smell clean! We can thank the Cabin Boys and half a tube of Toms Peppermint toothpaste for that. #hairisgoinggrey
— Jessica Cobb (@DomesticPirate) June 13, 2013

Or, he'll scale the changing table to get to the diaper cream:

Apparently, Strawberry Cheesecake Massage Cream is no exception.

Upon Captain's arrival to the bedroom from the bathroom, he discovered it:

On my laptop

Our comforter

The floor

The bedside table

The dresser

CB2's face

The stairway wall

The stair rail

But NOT, ironically, on any of our 'toys.'

If dinner hadn't been ready right at the moment of discovery, it would have been an early bath time.

As it stands, we had dinner while CB2, Captain, and I all smelled very strongly of intimate cream.

Cabin Girl thought it was lovely.

And now I'm hoping the Captain will take my pleas to replace our bedroom door handle more seriously.