It was an eventful weekend in Toddlerville, both good and bad. On Saturday, we went to the 40th birthday party for M's brother-in-law. It was at his aunt's house, and she has this wonderful in-ground pool that's heated. It was heaven, especially since the air was kind of cool Saturday evening. Surprisingly, both H's bathing suit and baby inner tube from last summer still fit, so we were able to get a little more mileage out of them so far this year. H. loved the pool! We stayed in for about an hour, with H. kicking her legs and putting her face in the water and blowing bubbles. I needed a break, so we got out for a little while, then M. got back in with her and I was able to take some pictures.
When she wasn't in the pool, H. spent the rest of the party chasing after the dogs that were there, yelling, "Doggie, doggie," at the top of her lungs. We didn't leave the party until 9pm and H. was out like a light. I let her sleep in her clothes once we got home and she slept until 7:30am Sunday morning.
Also, before we went to the party, we went and ordered a big wooden swing set, the likes of which you have never seen before. M. talked me into getting the "deluxe" model, which is pretty cool. I'm glad we ordered it now, because it takes 4-5 weeks to come in, so we'll have it well before her birthday party.
(This could almost be our backyard, with the cornfield in the background, but it's really just the picture from the brochure.)
Saturday was the good day. Sunday, not so good. Around noon, I put H. down for her nap. After awhile, I could hear her in her room, not yelling or fussing, just making noise, so I went in to check on her. She was standing up in her crib, pointing at a piece of paper on the floor. When I picked it up, I realized it was a piece of wallpaper border from the wall next to her crib. She had ripped off two pieces of border and pulled down the corner of another! So Sunday became the first day that H. was punished. I scolded her (I had written "yelled" but it sounded really mean) for ripping the wallpaper and explained that it was very, very bad. She wanted to get out of her crib, but I told her she had to stay in her crib and take her nap, no matter what. I pulled the crib away from the wall and left her alone. She was crying, but I stuck to my guns and eventually she fell asleep. When she woke up an hour or so later, she remembered that she had done something wrong. She was looking at the wall and saying "Uh, oh!" How can you stay mad at someone so cute! I fixed the piece that was just pulled down, but I don't know what to do about the other piece that was torn.
Since she liked the pool so much, I set up the blow-up pool early Sunday morning so the water would have a chance to warm up by the afternoon. After her nap and lunch, I covered H. with sunscreen and put on a swim diaper and her bathing suit. Before we had a chance to go outside, she was sitting on the chair in the living room and peed. Well, apparently those swim diapers don't work very well outside the pool. My chair cushion was soaked! So I changed her and into the pool we went. Even sitting in the sun, the water didn't warm up very much. "Cold, cold," she kept saying. Hayley spent most of the time outside the pool, putting her plastic fish in to swim. Then she pooped and back inside we went to change the swim diaper yet again. This was hardly worth all the effort! After about an hour, I gave up and got her dressed, then we went up the street to visit her friend Jenna. By the time M. got home from racing, I was exhausted.
On the subject of racing, M. did really well on Sunday, going four rounds before losing with a red light. He did win back his money, which was pretty good. He didn't get home until about 9:30pm, which is late. Both his brother and friend Tim each called about three times to see if he was home yet, saying, "That must mean he's doing well." Of course, I'm always thinking the opposite, that there's been a big wreck or something, but everything was fine. However, my worst fears were confirmed that night when we were watching the professional NHRA dragracers on ESPN. One of the top-fuel dragster drivers, Darrell Russell, was killed in a crash during the event in St. Louis. He was only 35 years old and had just won an NHRA event in Columbus a few weeks ago. I realize that these guys race at a completely different level than M., but there's always that thought in the back of your head about the element of danger involved with this sport/hobby.
PS - Happy B-Day to BFF Na. I left her a funny message on her answering machine tonight to make sure her family didn't forget her birthday, a la Sixteen Candles. Her sister is getting married on Sunday and it's going to be quite the bash, with people coming from out of town and events running from Friday through Monday.
