And we're back....almost.

Dennis commented this morning that it didn't feel like Christmas this year. I couldn't agree more. Everything came and went way too fast. And we didn't get to do a lot of the things we would have liked to have done (i.e. take Connor to see Santa Claus, go to a few Christmas party's, etc.).

As you know from my previous post, Connor has been sick. VERY SICK. And Dennis and I have been struggling, as well. Not as bad as Connor, but still bad. And Dennis doesn't get sick. EVER. Somehow Echo seems to have avoided the nasty bug or virus or whatever it was (and still is). Our Little Man had a stomach bug (projectile vomiting) turned ear infection turned bronchitis. He's slept more in the past few weeks (since being sick) than he has in his entire life. I mean, I'm talking 3.5 hour naps. Even I can't beat that record and I'm a champion sleeper!

After a round of antibiotics, prednisone, and continuing to use his nebulizer, he seems to be on the mend. He missed a week of school and Dennis and I probably should've missed as much work. Luckily Connor's Grandma, BAM, saved the day TWICE last week by taking care of Connor during the day for us.

We still aren't 100% by any stretch. Seventy-five percent might even be pushing it. But we're all a little bit better every day, which is awesome.

December had all of the makings for a perfect Christmas this year: too many awesome gifts for Connor from his grandparents, a very active Elf on the Shelf (who I miss, by the way), a white Christmas (flurries are still falling), and a fun Christmas Day celebration at the Martins that was spoiled only by a little bit of throw up in their dining room. This time it wasn't Dennis, or Echo. It was Connor. His stomach is just still so sensitive that we are now officially back on the BRAT (bread-rice-apples-toast) diet for a few more days. Let me clarify that, HE is on that diet, not us. I had some leftover ham, pineapple delight, and pecan pie for lunch and it was deeelish.

Another plus to us being house-ridden the past few weeks is that Dennis and I have almost completely memorized every line of The Polar Express. We can sing the girl-boy part in the middle of the movie, "when Christmas comes to town" very well. We're quite impressive, really. Connor is amazed and sits quite contently (even permitting nebulizer treatments) when the movie is playing, so as you can imagine, I have watched it, oh, let's go with a minimum of 89 billion times since we purchased it earlier this month.

Connor is finally on the mend and has shown signs of his regular self the last few days: eating a little bit, playing, talking non-stop, and allowing his mother out of his sight for a moment or two. So, we're getting there. And, I must say that the best gift we received for Christmas this year is seeing our son get better and fight off this nasty virus or bug.

Why Santa Has 8 Reindeer

Exciting times

This weekend proved to be way more exciting than I anticipated. And not in a good way. Not entirely, anyway.

On Saturday I seemed to have a mean stomach bug that didn't want me to eat anything. I'm talking nothing. Not even toast. Well, wait. I was able to keep a piece of toast down by Saturday night.

Then, on Sunday, Connor had the same thing. I've never seen someone projectile vomit before (and that word, vomit, is just a horrible, vial word in itself so I will use puke in future references). After Sunday's experienceS (and yes, there is an 's' on that word, signifying that we were able to experience this event more than one time), I can safely say that I am no longer a projectile puke virgin. Ahh... what a relief. And a badge of honor.

The second experience is the one that I will elaborate on for your reading pleasure. Dennis was getting ready to take Echo out on a walk as I was laying Connor down for a mid-morning nap. As I did so, soy milk was regurgitated everywhere. Soy milk was recommended by our pediatrician until the running stopped from the other end... I won't elaborate on that (you are welcome). Strangely, soy milk has a sweet smell when it comes back up. Anyway, Dennis heard what sounded like a sewer gurgling, ready to explode, and timidly asked, "is everything OK up there?"

"Yes. I mean, BARF. EVERYWHERE", I answered.

Dennis decided to postpone walking Echo and instead helped me to bathe our child, throw Connor's sheets, Connors clothes, my clothes, and a few blankets into the wash. When Dennis walked into the bathroom he said, "I've never seen so much puke. It's everywhere. Even on his back."

"And look, honey. He has a puke moustache. Have you ever seen one of those before?" I responded.

It's always important to be mature when dealing with situations like this. And Dennis and I are obviously good at that.

The second adventure is best depicted in the photos below. And let me just say that trainer potty's are so friggin' cool. They play music when you make a deposit, sing songs, hold toilet paper and even pretend flush. I mean, seriously. Awesome.

Happy 18 months

Dear Connor,

Happy 18 months. We now have to round up and say that you are closer to being two years old than you are to being one. Did you hear that: TWO YEARS OLD. And I am pretty nervous about what the terrible two's will bring.

While I was pregnant, I signed up on babycenter.com to get weekly email alerts about how you were growing, changing, and developing. I STILL get those emails and one of the most recent email updates was titled, "How to get your toddler to cooperate". And that email is still saved in my inbox. Haven't had a chance to read it yet but I will. Several times.

Maybe it's not that you don't cooperate so much as you just do what you want to do. And you do it when YOU want to do it. For some reason, putting on your pajamas every night is a battle. Getting you up in the mornings and changing your diaper isn't on your personal agenda, either. Eating vegetables has been thrown out the window, too. Carseats? Nope, not for you.

Relocating items to a more ideal - in your mind - spot is another one of your favorite passtimes. When we were in Missouri for Thanksgiving visiting your Nana & Papa, your Papa found a can of green beans in the warming drawer under the stove. While your Nana & Papa may put things in strange places from time to time, I am pretty confident that they don't store canned goods in the warming drawer. Just guessing here, but I'm pretty sure I'm right. As you'll learn, Mama is always right.

While I was just going on about how you like to avoid cooperating at all costs, I do have to applaud you for how well you behaved on the 11 hour trip (ONE WAY) to Columbia. We split the trip up and stayed in Nashville each way. You were very happy, for the most part, watching your Mickey Mouse Clubhouse video. Over. And over. And over. I can't quote lines from many (ok, ANY) movies but I may be able to quote a few from that movie. I could probably do the Donald Duck voice best.

Your vocabulary is about to explode. I can just feel it. You babble in what I can only assume are sentences in your world. Long, important, and thoughtful sentences. We're going to be in trouble once you go live with your vocabulary. We did laugh when we asked you what you want to name your Elf on the Shelf. Your response wasn't exactly in English. You made a smacking noise with your lips - almost like you were trying to kiss the air in a really loud fashion. So, we'll probably wait til next year to pick an official name because I'm not sure how to spell that noise. And we have to be able to spell it because we have to record the name in your book.

We decorated the Christmas tree last night while you were in bed. So, you were incredibly excited this morning when you saw it. You marveled at it and looked at each eye-level (and strategically non-breakable) ornament individually for several minutes. The excitement in your eyes and thrill with the tree made Christmas magical for me all over again.

Your Nana & Papa sent Christmas gifts home with us and we have them displayed under the tree. Your fascination with the bows (and how they resemble stars) tonight made me nervous that I may have put them out too soon. It might be a long 23 days until you get to open them up.

I love you, Connor. As much as I jokingly complain about your growing independence, I wouldn't have you any other way.

Love,

Mom

You Know You've Made It Big...

...when you make the class photo.

Several of Connor's classmates weren't in the picture. But NuNu was.

And to think, we only pay tuition for one child...

...

((Crickets.)) ((Crickets.))

I know what you are thinking. I've been lazy and haven't had time to post on Margaritas. Rather than telling you that are you 50% incorrect, I will tell you that you are 50% correct. With a 17-almost-18-month-old, there is no way to be lazy.

So, please stay posted. I promise I'll re-start the blogging engine soon. Just not today.

Life Lessons (Part Deux)

After driving one hour in each direction, we walked around the pumpkin patch at Burt's Farm for about 40 minutes. Forty might be pushing it, but we'll go with it.

We had fun on this day trip and even learned that it is perfectly acceptable to drive two hours to spend 40 minutes in a pumpkin patch if you have an adorable little boy and can steal a few sweet photos of him. Our adorable little boy was still recovering from a double ear infection when we took these photos so he wasn't 100% but he was still enjoying himself. And therefore, so were we.

I've also learned that it isn't a good idea to be in so much pain that it hurts to sleep. Dennis talked me in to joining CrossFit with him and man-oh-man am I sore. I thought that I had experienced muscle soreness before but, uh, no way. This pain is so bad that even if I'm sleeping in an uncomfortable position, it might be worth staying in that position if moving requires using my arm, shoulder, chest, back, or leg muscles. Yup, it's that bad. The crazy part is that I'm paying for this.

Lastly, and this parlay's nicely into the second lesson mentioned in this post, peach tea vodka is absolutely delish when mixed with Crystal Light Pink Lemonade. And I mean DELISH. Take that, CrossFit.

Life Lesson #123,223,240

I guess you keep learning, no matter how old you get. Not that I'm old, of course, but the learning-thing seems like it should be contained in our school-attending years, yet it isn't. And Connor is here to prove it.

Connor love, love, LOVES airplanes. So, being the Mom of the Year that I am, I researched to find the nearest - and soonest - airshow. It just so happened that one was scheduled to take place at Dobbins, which is approximately 10 miles from us.

We planned our trip to accomodate for naps, eating, Echo's walk, play time, and everything else that goes on during a typical Saturday morning at the Martin household. Again, being MOTY, I wanted to make sure that we avoided the crowds in case we had a meltdown and needed to make a fast escape. So we went to a parking deck where a friend suggested we go to avoid the huge crowds. Well, let's just say that we went to the parking deck and no one was there. For good reason. Back on the road again. We followed the airplanes to a closer location.

We found a spot in a parking lot near the airshow. We pulled up and saw 100 other people had the same idea. Now I'm not one for crowds but this was a much better indication that we had chosen a good location than what we saw at the vacant parking deck 10 minutes earlier.

After unloading Connor from the car, we pointed up to the sky and showed Connor the awesome airplanes doing tricks and stunts right about us. He was amazed. Well, he was entertained. For about one minute. We were there long enough for Mom and Dad to enjoy the cold beer (in plastic cups, of course) that Mom packed for the adventure.

Our learnings about airplanes are three-fold.

One: don't take your child to an airshow unless he/she is more than 16 months of age if you want them to appreciate it.

Two: you know how I mentioned we live 10 miles from Dobbins? I should have also mentioned that we live 15 (?) miles from the Atlanta airport. And airplanes fly over our neighborhood ALL OF THE TIME. I never realized this until I was outside with Connor and he put his hands in the air, pointing to the sky, every few minutes to make sure that I saw the planes flying overhead.

And Three: airplanes and airshows are worthy of at least 10 conversations. It amazed me how many times the airshow came up in conversations the week before the event. We'd see other families walking in the neighborhood and after a few minutes of small talk, someone would bring up weekend plans.

"Doing anything fun this weekend?"

"Yeah, actually, I mean, sort-of. Did you hear about the airshow?"

AIRSHOWS ARE AWESOME WHEN YOU HAVE CHILDREN THAT ARE OLDER THAN 16 MONTHS. Put that in your book of important things to remember. I put it in mine.

Not only have we been busy learning about the unbelievable coolness of airshows, but we've also learned about painting. Finger painting, to be specific. All kids love it, right?

How was I supposed to know that there is probably a more age-appropriate activity for a 16 month old? Maybe I didn't have to know in advance of the activity because Connor let me know.

He made it, um, very clear.

UPDATE

I'm alive. PROMISE. Will post again soon.

Happy 16 months, 3 weeks...

Connor,

The easiest way to describe your lifestyle these days is to use one simple word: busy. You walk, you run, you bump your head, you keep going, you chase Echo, you babble and point, and you absolutely LOVE to be outside. Your dad and I only get a select few minutes to chat about what is on our minds from the time we pick you up from school to the time we put you into bed. Our evening walks with Echo on her leash and you in your wagon are one of those occasions.

Another favorite of yours these days is reading. If we ask you to please go get a book, you quickly (and I mean QUICKLY) run into your plaly room and grab one. The Barnyard Dance, given to you by Nana, is one of your favorites. I am pretty sure that it is a favorite of yours not only because it is a sweet book but because your parents read it to you in such a fun fashion. We bounce around, make animal noises, and dance to the words in that book. And you, I must admit, are one heck of a dancer. Unfortunately for you, I think you are taking after your parents in that department. But there's still hope. I think.

Please forgive me for the shortness of this letter but I have to run... it sounds like you are waking up from your afternoon nap just a little bit early... and after a deep breath, I am ready to go again.

I love you.

Love,

Mom