So I had some pictures taken a week ago. First pics in a really long time that didn’t include Kaelin.

Though I’d like to say I went with the black and white for nostalgic quality, it was really just because I didn’t have a choice. This particular photographer was a little scarce on available options…

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I had some pictures taken a week ago.Â

The other day, Kaelin looked at the small crater on my nose that has replaced the mole I’ve had there for my entire life.”That’s a mole.”

“No honey, there’s no mole there anymore. It used to be, but now it’s gone.”

“God took it off.”

“No, the doctor took it off.”

And that would be the part of me that’s stubborn enough to deny, to my 2-year-old, that God deserves any credit for the removal of the mole.

Mostly because I’m pretty sure that if God had volunteered to “take it off” for me, it would have been a heck of a lot cheaper and the insurance company wouldn’t be hassling me with letters about “preexisting conditions.”

I usually neglect the mention of holidays on this blog. I don’t know why. It seems that every time one comes up I’m so engrossed in my plans that I just forget the “traditional holiday post” until after the holiday has passed…and then it doesn’t seem to make any sense to post about it.

This year I’m breaking my own tradition and wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving before the holiday.

Tomorrow we’re boarding a flight for Seattle, which I am both looking forward to and incredibly apprehensive about. See, Kaelin doesn’t sleep on planes. The last flight she took was an overnight flight and she didn’t sleep the entire time. I didn’t even know that was possible for a (just barely) 2-year-old.

This flight is during the day (thank goodness) but it falls right in the middle of her nap time. Which means that she’s just not going to nap tomorrow.

Which will either a) be great in helping her adjust to the time change because we can put her to bed 2 hours early… or b) she will dissolve into the screaming tantrum throwing toddler of doom and we will all be killed by the blazes of fire shooting out of her eyes.

Probably that second one.

So I hope you all have a wonderful holiday with your families. I hope you eat entirely too much and fall asleep after dinner. I hope you laugh and share and create memories that you treasure.

And if you hear a banshee scream, followed by an explosion, that’s just our little corner of Seattle blowing up from The Toddler Meltdown of 2007.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Edited to add: I just realized that even solution “a” above isn’t a reality, because it’s 2 hours earlier in Seattle, so we really need to put her to bed 2 hours LATER in order to avoid her waking up at 5am. Yep…we’re doomed.

The other day, Kaelin looked at the small crater on my nose that has replaced the mole I’ve had there for my entire life.

“That’s a mole.”

“No honey, there’s no mole there anymore.Â

“I wanna show Mama! I wanna show Mama!”

“Show Mama what?”

“My cough.”

“You want to show me your cough? Where is your cough?”

(Sticks finger in her mouth) “In here.”

“What does your cough sound like?”

“A monster.”

“Your cough sounds like a monster?”

“Yeah. The monster is a BIG GUY.”

Apparently the Big Cough Monster is green and lives in our backyard and hides in the trees and likes to eat nuggets for lunch.

Who knew?

I was doing my Bible study lesson earlier today when Kaelin came running up to me in the living room.

“I wanna show Mama!”

“Show Mama what?”

“My cough.”

“Your cough?  Where is your cough?”

(Sticks finger in her mouth) “In here.”

“What does your cough sound like?”

“A monster.”

“Your cough sounds like a monster?”

“Yeah.Â

Feeling rather blasé today.   There are so many things I should be doing right now, not the least of which being WORK.   But I just sort of want to sit here and stare at the wall instead.

Our daughter is a steady stream of chatter.  Methinks she gets it from her father.

Jens and I have one night a week that we (would like to) watch TV.  We’re fans of the Bones and House shows, which both show on Tuesday nights.  We have discovered the impossibility of this while Kaelin is around.  Not only does she talk a blue streak of constant babble, it’s consistently at an above-average volume.

It’s very difficult to hear the whispers of newly discovered clues and “who done it” conclusions in the midst of:

I’m spinning!  I’m getting dizzy, dizzy, dizzy!  I fell down Mama.  Hee hee hee hee!  Look, it’s the Kitty!  I wanna pet him.  Come back here Kitty!  I love him!  I have a surprise for you.  It’s cake!  Cake is yummy!  Sweet, man, sweet!Â

I’ve been bitten by the Christmas bug.Â

You won’t believe what I did this (last) weekend.  Go ahead.  Guess.

Nope.  Nice try, but not even close.

Nah.  Try again.

Wrong, but that is on my list of things to do before I die.

I went HUNTING.

Quail hunting, to be precise.  I was invited on a hunting expedition at Crockett Ranch, despite having never held a gun in my life.

The guided wild bird hunting trip was first class and all inclusive – and I found it very educational.  Unfortunately, there were no birds.  Apparently it’s a bad season for quail, who are still recovering from a bad year last year.  The warm, dry weather didn’t help either.

Kathy, looking pretty smart in her feminine hunting attire.  I was not nearly so fashionable.
But I got to ride a horse and watch the dogs roam, and that was a lot of fun.  I didn’t even get saddle sore, which surprised me, having not been on a horse in over 10 years.

One of the ranch’s English setters doing what a Crockett dog does best.
Since there were no birds, my cousin Brandon took us out for some target practice on inanimate objects.  I shot a stick.  And fatally wounded a water bottle that was tossed into the air.  I thought about bringing it back to be stuffed, but it was on the smaller side as water bottles go, and I decided it just wasn’t trophy material.
So I’m displaying the nice bruise on my arm from the gun as my trophy.  It has a cool yellow-purple thing going on today.  The fact that it’s on my arm and not on my shoulder probably says something about my gunmanship technique.
We stayed in a quaint historical bed & breakfast in Turkey, Texas.  It was built in the 1920’s and is on the national historical registry of haunted buildings.  I don’t know if that’s actually what it’s called, so I’m not capitalizing it, but it’s some kind of haunted places list.  The hotel was built by the railroad to keep the railroad workers around, which is “official lingo” for “it was a brothel to keep the boys happy.”  Apparently there was a love triangle incident when the boyfriend of one of the working girls barged in and shot her client.  Since then, there has been strange activity in that room, which has now been converted into a bathroom instead of a bedroom because the bed keeps mysteriously unmaking itself.  Or something like that.
The hotel is now owned by this guy, who used to be an entertainer in the karaoke world:

He can do a SPOT ON impression of the “What a Wonderful World” duet between Louis Armstrong and Frank Sinatra.  Unbelievable.

The highlight of my trip though?  Definitely watching my uncle and cousin on the karaoke stage.  I will never be invited anywhere ever again for posting these pictures, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

WARNING: This post is all about bodily fluids.  You have been warned.

Wednesday night I had some bad sushi.  It tasted good.  But it didn’t agree with my insides and for a while I wasn’t sure whether it was the sushi, or my insides, that were about to exit my body in a rather unfriendly fashion.

Consequently, I spent a good portion of the evening alternating between the couch and the toilet.

Jens was gone on a business trip so it was just me and Kaelin for the evening.  It is surprisingly difficult to spend an evening sick on the pot with a curious and concerned toddler investigating, questioning, and playing doctor.

“Are you ok Mama?”

(between winces, and with my head in my hands) “Not really.  Mama’s a little sick right now.”

“You’re SICK.  Are you ok Mama?”

“I will be ok soon.  Mama just needs to go potty.  Can you go watch TV for a few minutes?”

“Do you have an owie?  Does your eyes hurt?  Do you have an owie on your arm?”

“Mama’s tummy hurts.”

“Mama has an owie on her tummy.  Does it need a kiss?”

“No thank you.  But thanks for offering.”

(Removing a strip of toilet paper to wrap around an old scratch on Mama’s arm) “Mama has an owie RIGHT THERE.  Put this on it because it makes it feel all better for you.”

“Thank you sweetie.”

(Grabbing my arm at attempting to pull me off the toilet) “Puuuuuuuuuulllllll!  Puuuuuuullllll!  Go out there.  Go into the living room, Mama.”

“I can’t right now, baby.  Go ahead and I’ll come in a few minutes.”

“I need some toilet paper!”

“No you don’t.  Don’t take any more toilet paper.  Leave it alone.”

“I love you Mama!  Hold you?”

“I love you too, but I can’t hold you right now.  I’m going potty.”

(Attempting embrace) “HUUUUUG!”

She then found a small flashlight and proceeded to spotlight and name Every. Single. Item. in the bathroom.

“Shine the light and then you can see it.  This is a scarecrow!  How about the scarecrow’s basket?  How about the toilet paper?  How about the door!  How about the shoe!  How about Mama’s knee?  How about Mama’s other knee!  How about Mama’s cheek!  How about Mama’s arm!  How about Mama’s tummy!  How about Mama’s boob!”

“Kaelin, can you please go watch TV for a few minutes.”

“Are you ok, Mama?  Mama has an owie.” (Runs down the hall) “Your SICK!”

The following evening, I had the pleasure of spending some quality time cleaning up puke.

Not mine.  Kaelin’s.

I would rather it had been mine, not only because it breaks my heart when she’s sick, but also because I have the ability to direct vomit into the sink or the toilet or a bowl or some single location other than all over the new couch, her clothes, my clothes, the blanket, the living room carpet and the hallway.

I suspected we were possibly in for an illness because a) this was the first week of attending both “Tuesday School” and “Wednesday School” programs, and exposure to other kids always means contagious ickiness,  b) she has not had an appetite for the last day and a half, and c) she told me she was sick earlier in the day.

But she very rarely gets pukey, so that kind of caught me by surprise.  After she refused most of her dinner, I was able to get her to eat a stick of string cheese.

In hindsight, that was not my best move.

Cheese chunks do not willingly go down the bathtub drain.  And picking up pieces of regurgitated food is not my idea of a party.

I know, I’m hard to please.

I bathed her, washed our clothes, cleaned up the carpet and furniture, and washed my hands, but I could not get rid of the “phantom puke smell.”  I hate that.

Poor kid.  It scared her.  I tried to simultaneously soothe her while whisking her into the bath tub and stripping off all the clothes and diaper.  The warm water seemed to help, and soon she was obviously feeling better.  Toward the end of the bath, however, she started complaining that her tummy hurt again.  I prepared myself for Round 2.  Fortunately, that never came.  She fell asleep in my arms, swaddled in the only blanket left in the house that didn’t have puke on it.

She’s been in high spirits so far today, but woke up with a nasty cough and has been on/off with a slight fever.  I had been trying desperately to find a babysitter for tomorrow.  We have tickets to a matinée that, due to a communication mishap, we didn’t know about until Wednesday, and I’ve completely struck out in finding someone to look after her on such short notice.  But with the timing of this illness, it’s looking like that won’t be much of an issue anymore.