Puzzles

We are back from our fall weekend Up North.

The air at camp was crisp, clean and clear while the leaves were falling in the most striking and vibrant colors of crimson, butternut and pumpkin. The Michigan fall season is caramel apples, fresh donuts, apple cider and college football. I love it--especially Up North.

Our road trip was pretty typical (Floyd freaking, music blaring and Cracker Barrel stopping) except that Frankie kind of sucked. She whined and cried for most of the trip. It was distressing and nerve wracking--and honestly, quite annoying. We went through the "Do you think it's..." and "It could be..." while stopping briefly on "I wonder if she has..." and "It's definitely not..." My best one (as far as I'm concerned) was when I concluded that she might have been experiencing some growing pains because that same morning I went through three freakin' pairs of pants before I found some that weren't fitting like Michael Jackson's "Beat It" floods. (Remember those?)

Several hours of crying and one speeding ticket later, we finally arrived at camp where we spent the weekend hanging out, reading books and magazines, watching bad movies, taking walks, eating spears at G's (you camp people know what I'm talking about) and shopping in Traverse City.

Frankie had a great time wherever she was, no matter what she was doing...except in the car. UGH. Such a pain because there aren't too many destinations that are super close to camp. Part of what makes the weekend trips to camp so great is driving to surrounding cities like Kalkaska, Elk Rapids, Charlevoix, Petosky or Traverse City and seeing all the beautiful fall foliage. The only thing that can ruin that is hmmm....I don't know, oh wait--yes, I do! How about a Frankie freak-out in the back seat complete with whining and crying for absolutely NO APPARENT REASON!!

All was certainly not lost over the weekend. Not by a long shot. We had a great time in spite of the brutal car rides and I learned a few things that I packed up and took home with me: I learned that size 3 diapers can no longer hold Frankie's "overnight pee," I learned that there is nothing better than strawberry milk from Shetland's Dairy Farm (if I had larger veins and didn't hate needles, I would mainline the stuff) and I learned that playing with Frankie's toys makes me feel really smart. There was this one puzzle that she was into all weekend. I rocked at it. I have no trouble putting the tree in the "tree opening" of the puzzle, and I also did it with the apple, the bee and the flower. Frankie tried to put all four in the same opening. Nope. Try again, sister. Don't think I didn't shoot her the "I'm a smartie" look more than a few times when we were playing. Don't think she cared.

It's still a mystery to us what was up with Frankie and her car aversion all weekend. It was a puzzle I couldn't (and likely never will) figure out. We tried everything. We took her coat off thinking it would make her more comfortable, we fed her endless snacks, we sang "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" 1500 times...We did all the stuff good parents do but nothing seemed to help, at least not for an extended period of time. I felt like we were trying to put the tree, the apple, the bee and the flower all in the same opening. Her backseat bawling was an enigma and if she wasn't totally fine every single time we pulled her out of the car, I probably would have been really worried.

I had such anxiety on Saturday night about the trip home on Sunday. Three hours of crying to look forward to. Awesome. Rockin' ride home. Fun for the whole family. My anguish however, turned out to be all for nought. Frankie was a perfect angel on the way home. She was babbling and laughing in perfect Frankie fashion. I don't get it and at this point, I have resolved that I never will. I guess there are some puzzles that just can't be put together and sometimes you just have to walk away letting go because soon enough there will be another one to figure out.

Trick or Treat!

I love Halloween.

I have always loved it.

When I was a kid, my mom would decorate our house with paper skeletons and ghosts and all empty bowls would be filled and refilled with candy corn. Since my brother's birthday falls at the end of October, his annual party was--appropriately--a costume party, and that meant I was allowed an extra costume. (Bonus). It was tradition for us to start entertaining costume ideas early in the month. Costumes were a big deal. I have been everything from a clown to an ice skater to a dancer...one year I think I was actually Spiderman. (I'm not really sure what that was all about).

I'm fairly certain my mom no longer has too many of our old Halloween decorations and my brother, now in New York, has likely wrapped up his costume parties-- but that hasn't stopped me from bringing out the bats and plugging in the pumpkins. Homage must be paid.

On October 1st of every year, Cody goes to our storage unit (yes, the Halloween decor is kept in a storage unit) and brings home all the bins, tubs and boxes labeled HALLOWEEN. Our house is then transformed. Cody is in charge of the outside and he does a Halloween scene that can only be rivaled by the holiday window display at Barney's in NYC. The scene surrounding our front door area is classy and festive--even I want to go through the front door instead of the garage, but whatever, I'm lazy so I never do.

The inside is my domain: Halloween Central, USA. Pumpkins, ghosts and goblins...mugs, plates and placemats...candles, soaps and towels...mummies, witches and skeletons...tombstones, tinsel and bats...candy, candy, candy!!! No one enters without stepping on the howling mat, and no one leaves without a goodie bag.

I'm sure my love for Halloween is a direct result of my upbringing and the candy coated memories I continue to cherish. I'm also sure it's not going to fade anytime soon. (The owner of the storage facility should be happy about that). I have to believe that Frankie had a blast this past month with all the holiday traffic in and out of the house and all the partying, cookie decorating, candy eating and dancing she did on the big day. Of course I have no idea if, as an adult, she will love and observe the holiday as I do, and I don't know if she will be sad (or even notice) when she wakes up tomorrow to find that all of the decorations have been taken down and put away--but what I do know is this: There is a bunch of leftover candy in the junk drawer and a ton stashed in the freezer.

I'm going to get some.

Fateful Forecast

On Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays, Frankie goes to daycare from 8:00-3:00. Cody usually takes her and I usually pick her up. When they were leaving this morning, right before they walked out the door, they turned towards me and Cody gently prompted: "Say bye-bye to Mommy." Frankie gave the double backwards wave and said "Bah Bah" in her cute little voice. I replied with "I love you," and Frankie repeated something that sounded like "Ah dah dah." And then they both closed with a new Frankie favorite: the Donnie and Marie Osmond hand-to-mouth "Ummmmmmm-Mwahhhhh!" good-bye kiss, circa 1976-- and Frankie reproduced the act with 1 cup exaggeration and 1 cup grandiosity. It was the perfect way to start the morning. All mornings everywhere should start like that, but they don't, and as far as mine go--as much as I wish they would go on forever like this, I'm no dummy--I know they won't.

Fast forward 15 years.

Frankie is getting ready to leave for school and springs this one on me:

Frankie: Mom... Emma, Isabella and Ethan are going to see the "Blah Blahs" in concert in Ann Arbor. We'll come home the same night. You don't know Ethan but he's super cool and he has a car, can I go?

Me: Um, let me think about that...oh, I just did--NO SHOT.

Frankie: Why not? Their moms are totally letting them go!!! (Probably a lie).

Me: Uh, Why not? Are you kidding? Do you want the first 100 reasons why not or just the top 10?

Frankie: I'm going to ask daddy. You are so mean you never let me do anything! (Also a lie).

Me: I know. Whatever. Drink your orange juice and go to school. Be sure to call your dad.

And then-- right when she is leaving, and she is FOR SURE still mad-- I will grab her attention by calling her name and I will throw down one of those Donny and Marie hand-to-mouth kisses and tell her I love her.

Bring it, Frankie. I'm ready. "Ummmmmmmmmm-Mwah!!!"

Full Circle

Today was my dad's 65 birthday.

A bunch of us, including Frankie, went out for Chinese food. It was a very special evening not only because we were celebrating a very special birthday for a very special person, but also because we went to the same Chinese place where we used to go every Thursday when I was a kid. This time, however, we brought my kid. It was not Frankie's first time at New Mandarin Garden, (it was actually her third) but it was her first time with my dad--and what better day for her to accompany him than on his birthday?

For many men, the 65th birthday is characterized by prostate issues, medicare eligibility, and hair that no longer threatens to clog the shower drain...but for my father, it was a day stacked with an early morning phone call from Frankie, a "Happy Birthday" message when he swiped his card at the gym, and moo shu chicken.

There aren't too many places around here that hold the same nostalgic memories as New Mandarin Garden. Most of the restaurants from my childhood are long gone and if they're still around, we certainly weren't patronizing them once a week the way we did this one. I love the way it accumulates and stores memories for me, and I love that the interior has been well preserved so Frankie can experience the establishment in the same regard that I did. I love that everyone is so nice to us when we are there, and I love that the food is always stellar. I love that there is never a wait to sit down, and I love the irony of showing up over 25 years later with a daughter from China (Did you think I missed the irony?)

But most of all--I love that I can still go with my Dad. I know we will visit again soon and it will be like old times. We will slide into our old booth, we will dismiss the unnecessary offer of menus, we will swap stories and relive anecdotes, and best of all, we will be joined by the newest member of my father's family, his granddaughter.

It's been 7 months with my family...

How fast does this car go? Can it get me out of here?
These people are nuts.

OOPSIE!

Hi Frankie,

It's your parents.

We love you very much, but we blew it.

We are sorry that we didn't know until this morning that you had an ear infection, but you never tugged on your ear or gave us any indication so we didn't even consider it as an option. We're sorry that you spent the weekend in so much pain. We're sorry that we had to give away our Detroit vs NY hockey tickets but it's not like Shanahan is playing for either the Wings or the Rangers right now, so WHATEVER. We're sorry that we were a little relieved when Dr. Molly told us that you had an ear infection because now at least we actually know what is wrong with you. We're sorry that we drugged you up over the weekend, but I have feeling that it probably helped a bit. We're sorry that we're very excited for all of us to hopefully get some sleep tonight even though it was very nice hanging out with you every 2 hours while you were crying and miserable. (That one is kind of a lie, it wasn't really that great hanging out with you when you were like that at 12:30, 3:30 and 6:20 in the morning).

We are sorry that we blew it, Frankie, but it's probably best for you to know this now:

It ain't gonna be the last time.

Love and all the other good stuff that antibiotics bring,

Your parents

Gangsta Teeth

Ever since Ms. Frankie Jade came on the scene, I have been told of the horrors of teething. I have, at times, dealt with a little dental discomfort on the Frankie front, but I honestly didn't know what the big deal was until today. More specifically-- until 5:30 this morning and it ended...well, it hasn't yet, and I have a feeling we're in for one of those "every-2-hour" kind of nights.

When Frankie woke up wailing at 5:30 this morning, Cody and I initially attributed her discomfort and unrest to all the crap she ate last night. We had the Otis Family over for Friday night dinner and it's no secret that our luck with them hasn't been the best lately (see Oct 6 and Aug 17). Nevertheless, we love them and Frankie had a great time. She played, danced, and laughed and--not long before bedtime--she happily snuck the m&m's my girlfriend, Elise, decided she needed, and also part of a s'more that I know she didn't.

Our gut reaction to the 5:30 "wake and wail" was that Frankie had a tummy ache. Cody was the one that ran to her room and when he came back, he reported that she was a bit warm, but he found no real evidence of fever. In addition, she wasn't pulling on either of her ears, her diaper wasn't full of Friday night's remains, and there was no barfing to speak of. We concluded that we were looking at a tummy ache--completely plausible and no big deal, right? I, for one, get tummy aches all the time from being "overserved" candy, cake and cookies. Frankie's a Coden. A tummy ache on a Friday night (or any night) is nothing new in our house. In fact, it's downright normal and we assumed that when she woke for the day she'd be fine. Not so. She woke again an hour later with that same, heart wrenching wail. Since I never made it back to sleep after the first time Frankie woke, I easily jumped out of bed with quickly moving legs, but also with a slowly sinking heart.

I knew I wasn't going to enter Frankie's room to find the sunny, happy, excited kid I normally find, and I was correct. Poor Frankie was a mess. She was crying hard and big, wet tears were streaming down either side of her face as she sat on her knees and held her arms up to me. No "Hi-eee!!" this morning. No "uppahh" either. Just a lot of crying and raised arms for Mommy. It made me feel very sad to see her like that--and very powerless.

After a few bites of breakfast and a second dismissed bottle of milk, Cody managed to get Frankie down for a short nap before he left for about an hour. After a very short nap, FJ woke up crying just as I was getting out of the shower. (Of course that is when she woke up. Is there ANY OTHER time?) As I held my girl close, clad only in the towel on my head and not much else, I started to worry a bit. I HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS WRONG WITH MY GIRL AND FRANKLY, I WAS STARTING TO GET A LITTLE SCARED.

The crying was out of control, like when she fell and hit her head a few weeks ago, but at least then I knew why she was crying. I had no idea what to attribute this to. It was a total mystery and I was (as usual) clueless. I held her and rocked her for a solid hour (still undressed and wishing I had taken a little less time in the shower) before I eventually had my stunning moment of clarity and gave Frankie some Motrin. HEL-LO?? Why did it take me so long to come up with that one? I still don't know! Am I an idiot? I guess so! The Motrin really helped. It was temporary, but it helped.

When Cody came home a short time later, I told him of my discovery and my love affair with Infant Motrin. We thought we were home free because Frankie seemed to be doing a little better, but then, with no warning at all, it wore off! What the...? ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME? This time I was the one out running errands and Cody was home. Cue the wailing and the tears--the Motrin has worn off! When I got home, we discussed all of the possible reasons for Frankie's obvious pain and abnormal behavior and Dummy Mom and Dummy Dad finally uncovered the enigma: Teething.

Who knew? Frankie has a lot of her teeth; in fact she has more than most 18-month-old kids. Who knew that some teeth hurt more than others? Who knew that some were big, bad, mean bullies? Not us, that's for sure. We didn't think teething was that big of a deal. It certainly hasn't been thus far. What do we know though? Pretty much nothing. We're the parents who actually "googled" how to piggyback motrin and tylenol. Yes, that's us.

Holding, rocking and keeping our girl close while doing the motrin and tylenol switch have, for the time being, seemed to help placate the thugs waging war in Frankie's mouth. I have no idea what tonight will bring, but we're putting on our camo and preparing for 2 hour intervals. Whatever happens in our house, at least the Otis Family can sleep well nestled in the comfort of knowing that they are in the clear. Try as we might, there is no way we can pin this one on them.

Afternote: We did consider the booze (and I don't even drink!) But we also considered it for FJ. The problem was, her gums were so irritated that she didn't want us, or anything else, near them. She found the slight Oragel rub and the Motrin/Tylenol cocktails to be so traumatizing that we didn't want to bug her more by rubbing liquor on her gums. Believe me, if I thought it would help after all the other stuff we had done, I would have given her a shot glass full of Whiskey, a straw and her own bartender.

Pointers from The Princess

Do you guys want to sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider?" I do.

"Down came the rain..."

Sorry, Grampa. I gotta go. I love this song...
and yes, I do need a spoon in each hand to make me dance better.

"Down."
Some Pointers from The Princess:

When I say "Uhpahh!" It means, "Pick me up," and not "I work in Greek Town serving flaming cheese."


On the other hand, "Let's get your coat on" really means "Oh, fun--Mommy is going to play chase with me, and she's going to do all the chasing!"


There is no such thing as too much "Itsy Bitsy Spider." Singing it 50 times a day is not unheard of, and much appreciated by me, The Princess.

"The Itsy Bitsy Spider" serves not only as fun entertainment, but also as a temporary stalling technique and/or reprieve from a potential meltdown or meltdown-in-progress. I actually don't have too many meltdowns because A) It's not in my nature, B) Mommy has no patience for them and C) I'm awesome...but sometimes I sneak one in just to be a toddler. It's my job. I'm sure I'll have more as I get older but until then, keep working the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" angle.

If I'm mad that you took something I don't need away from me, and I decide to pull your hair, you're not teaching me anything by pulling mine in return. I don't care if you're not pulling hard. I am the toddler. I do the pulling.

You know how in Synagogue no one is allowed to leave the room when the Torah is out? Well, that's how it is when the "Hot Dog, Hot Dog, Hot Diggity Dog" song is on. No one moves except to dance until the song is over. No exceptions.

Sometimes I still like to poop in the tub. It's not a pointer. Just a fact.

I'm 18 months old and it's still not a good move to put a barrette or clip in my hair. I will take it out when you're not paying attention and I will put it in my mouth.
You'll have a "Mommy feeling" that I took it out, quickly glance at my head and, as expected, you will find it missing. You will then have a total freak-out. (Note: The "Itsy Bitsy Spider" song does not work with Mommy freak-outs.) Your heart will beat very fast because you're scared that I swallowed it (I didn't). You'll then lodge a finger in my mouth, grab the clip and sigh with relief because it is now safely in your hand and not in my throat. I will then smile one of my huge Frankie smiles (completely unaffected by the recent exchange) and say "Hi--eee." I had no intention of swallowing the clip-- I'm not an idiot--but you might want to take a moment and ask yourself if the clip in my hair is really worth it.


Throwing bath toys out of the tub is great. I know I'm getting water everywhere. I know the bath toys belong in the tub. I know it annoys the hell out of you. I don't care because it's great. You can beg, you can plead and and you can order me can order me to STOP until you are blue in the face. I don't care because it's great. I love to throw bath toys. It's great.

Please don't mistake my amazing napping and sleeping habits as doing you any favors. I'm just tired. I am completely aware of what a great sleeper I am. I will, in the future, be keeping you and Daddy up all night when my boyfriend (the one with the tattoos and piercings) comes to pick me up and I break curfew because Mommy pissed me off two weeks before by grounding me for taking her car without asking.

Off white is not the color I would have chosen for a new coat, Mommy, but you bought it anyway. I'd like to wish you lots of good luck with that. Daddy and I have an over-under on how long you go before I trash it.

Tootle-ooh.
FJC

Hello....?

I need to make a call...

I'm dialing...

Hello, President Bush? Nice Work.
Things are lookin' real good out there!
I have to go call my new friend Lily now.
Bye.


In about 2 seconds, Lily, Rachel and Mommy will be
chasing me around this restaurant.

You can hold my hand-but you can't hold me down, sister!

Now, I don't have any idea who she's talking to...it could be her beloved Aunt Nancy who gave her the fashionable, pink cell phone-- it could be her new best friend, (and mine) Lily, who recently came to visit from Virginia... it could be freakin' "Hello Kitty" for all I know. What I do know is that my girl is all about the phone. "Blah Blah Blah" all day long. Yesterday she asked me for a text messaging package. I told her I would happy to oblige but good luck texting the following conversation that plays out in our house about 100 times a day:

Me or Cody: Ring Ring. Ring Ring! Hello? Oh, hi. You're looking for Frankie? Ok, hang on...Frankie!! It's for you!! (Hand phone to Frankie).

Frankie: Vos du? Abatahanee! (Throws phone)

Me or Cody: (Pick up phone). Hello? Hi! Frankie it's for you. (Hand phone to Frankie).

Frankie: Betasee Badu? Abaduwee. Gluh Gluh. Anatubah Dawah. Oh...Aratabee Noee. Bah!(Throws phone).

Me or Cody: (Pick up phone). Hello? Hold on. (Hand phone to Frankie).

Frankie: (Looks at the phone and shakes her head "No." --Whoever she was talking to must have really made her mad).

Me or Cody: No phone?

Frankie: (Takes phone and throws it).

Good thing we have phone insurance.

Night Moves

My girl has moves.

She does the "Frankie 2 Step" which is kind of a side-to-side move that she will perform to almost any song that comes on, and she also has a move I commonly refer to as the "Fray J Squat." That one is pretty self explanatory.

Until last night I assumed those moves would reign supreme in her dance move arsenol. Until last night I figured she was set until, inevitably, many years from now when she brings said moves to a gay bar dance floor (they play the best dance music) and Nelly Ripa bitch slaps her with a rainbow flag and 3 snaps in a circle. Until last night, those were the best moves she had.

Last night Frankie came up with the move of all moves.

We were having dinner at The Otis' house and this time, instead of me hitting Randy's car--Frankie hit the floor. It all happened very quickly. One minute everyone was laughing and having a good time (including Frankie who now sees fit to laugh at everything everyone else laughs at even though she has no idea what she is laughing at) and then she fell. She fell fast. Real fast. She fell faster than our stock portfolio.

It was one of the scariest moments of my life.

Frankie was in a booster seat hooked up to a chair that was about 4 feet tall. She fell far... and then she hit hard and cried hard. She cried for a long time. I keep replaying her little head hitting the tile over and over again. It's like a bad movie that won't end. Usually FJ has very quick recovery but this time she cried and cried and cried. We held her until she would ask for the other and then we would switch. It was heartbreaking. We were helpless. I held it together until she started throwing up, and then I started crying too. My girl was really hurt and really scared. I was scared too. Everyone was.

Cody, my hero, naturally kept his wits about him. He took control and got us to the hospital. It was the longest ride ever. When we got there, Cody dropped us off at the ER entrance and I could barely communicate to the lady at the reception desk why we were there. I was a mess. While we were waiting, it didn't take long before FJ was walking around saying "Hi--eee" like everything was OK... and that's when I knew that everything would be.

Frankie is fine and acting totally and completely like herself. I have a feeling that won't be our last visit to the Emergency Room but I also hope we don't get VIP cards. I don't think she has any recollection of last night but I really have no idea. She babbles all the time now and though she could be complaining about not getting dessert at the Otis' house, she could just as easily be complaining about how poorly we were treated at the hospital. I guess we'll never know and you know what--that's OK. Everything is OK and I'm just fine with that.

Fat Lip Friday

Frankie gave me a fat lip on Friday.

It was really sexy.

She never really apologized but, don't worry, I soothed the pain with a bunch of brownie batter.

Fridays are my day with Frankie. I don't go to work. I work from home if necessary, but for the most part Frankie and I spend the day together. We shop, we run errands, we meet up with friends for lunch, we play. It's always a fun day.

This past Friday we had plans to go to lunch for my cousin Shelly's birthday. Shelly and I are very close so I had been looking forward to it for awhile. My mom, Shelly's mom, and my other cousin, Carol, all went and everyone loves Frankie so I knew it was going to be a fun lunch. Frankie goes out for lunch and dinner quite a bit so I had no doubt she'd be awesome at the restaurant. I was half right.

Frankie was in no mood for a nap that morning, but I wasn't really worried because there are lots of times when she doesn't feel like taking her morning nap and she is totally fine. Not long before we left, we were in my bathroom so I could get dressed but when I placed my hairbrush on the vanity, Frankie decided she wanted it. Since there was no time to play with the brush, I took it away and put it in a drawer --Frankie went cuckoo bananas. I contemplated calling an exorcist while I stood there waiting for her head to spin around. I had no idea why taking the brush away would set her off so much. I wanted no part it though and I sincerely hoped she wasn't looking for me to engage. It's a hair brush. I gave her a look that could only be translated to "you're a total freak" before scooping her up, telling her to "get over it," and putting her in the car for our lunch.

As I loaded Little Ms. Meltdown into the car, I mentally went to a place in my head where I store a list of things I need for Frankie on our trips away from home. I like to refer to this list as "Frankie's Crap." While I went through my list, Frankie was happily jamming to Kenny Chesney in the back seat. It seemed the "Hairbrush Incident of 2008" was forgotten.

We got to lunch and everything seemed fine. Frankie and I were the first to arrive so we were the first to learn that we were awarded the same waiter I had just a few days earlier when I was there with my new friend and pediatrician extraordinaire, Molly. Does this matter? Yes. Why? As I'm sure Molly would agree, he is quite the hottie. While my mom and the rest of the party showed up, Frankie was laughing and having a great time. When our waiter approached the table and she got a good look at him, she forgot about us and quickly moved on to shamelessly hitting on him. She even tried to take his apron off! (Jeez, Frankie...get a room... or join a Sorority).

I don't know if it was because she didn't get her nap, my hair brush, or if it was because our waiter told her she was a little young for him, but all of the sudden she went Sybil on me and started to turn...fast. She didn't want anymore of the food I brought for her or the food at the table; she didn't want the warm bread in the basket or the glass of water I offered her. My mom took her for a outside for walk to get her out of the restaurant, but when they came back FJ had to go back in the high chair and she clearly had reservations about that. This anticipated fun and relaxing lunch was quickly becoming slightly stressful. Frankie was squirming around in her high chair and I thought she was going to fall out of it so I decided it was my turn to take her for a little walk. I picked her up and (SHOCKER) she said "Down." (What else is new?) Ok, fine--I'll let you walk.

She did her "drunken sailer" walk through the restaurant, through the bar area, and through the tables that lead to the outdoor tables. I caught up with her outside only to find her stopped at a table of three men. She smiled at one of the guys and threw out one of her Frankie "Hi-eee's." The guy scooped her up after he asked me if it was OK and she stared at him for approximately 3 seconds before she proceeded to go into their bread basket and take a piece of their bread! She didn't want our bread. She must only like bread surrounded by testosterone, I don't know. After she took their bread, she looked at the guy again and exclaimed "Down!"

When we got back to our table, Frankie was not swanky--she was cranky. I put her in my lap to soothe her only to have her head butt me from behind and give me a fat lip. I felt like it was at this point that I throw it the towel. It was time to go home.

I had never had an issue with Frankie at a restaurant before. She was always so well behaved and so much fun and quite honestly, it sort of upset me that she was yucky. I took it personally. She's entitled to an off day, I know, but that didn't make me feel any better since I had really been looking forward to that lunch. I left there feeling exhausted, defeated and humbled by the whole experience.

When we got to the car and I got in the driver's seat, I tried to tell Frankie that it's not nice to give Mommy a fat lip and go bonkers in a restaurant. When I turned to see her reaction, I found her fast asleep (or maybe she was faking it so I would shut up). I'll never know. All I know is that the brownies I brought to The Wallers' house that night sucked probably due to the fact that I ate half the batter before they made it to the oven. It wasn't my fault...I needed to soothe my swelling fat lip and my temporarily bruised ego. Brownie batter is really good for that.

When It Rains, It Pours

Today is Saturday, September 20th and it's Mommy and Daddy's Anniversary. I got up at 5:18 in the morning so now I'm napping and giving them a little time to do their thing. Some parents think their kids are really advanced but compared to me they're not because I can type while napping. Beat that.

Want to know what's going on in my life? I'll tell you. Things are in a bit of disarray at our house right now and I don't like it one bit. I'm none too thrilled with my current living conditions and accomodations, but I know my Daddy and all the workmen are working as fast as possible to get things back to normal for me and Mommy.

Last Friday we went to the suburbs of Chicago with some of our favorite family friends and their kids for a very special weekend. It took all of the families 7 hours to get there. Chicago traffic is stupid. At least we got to stop at Cracker Barrel for lunch. That is one of Mommy's favorite restaurants. She likes it because there is candy and shopping. Daddy says she's "all class." It was my first time there. On our way out, I walked up to a table and hit on a 65-year-old man. He loved me. Before we left, Mommy made Daddy take pictures of us outside the restaurant because she loves it there so much. She is nuts.

When we got to Chicago the traffic was really bad; all the adults were texting each other and everyone was really bummed out. Mommy had to pee so badly that she contemplated using one of my diapers. Daddy said it wouldn't hold all of her pee so she decided to pee in a cup but when a bus pulled up next to us, Daddy told her that they could see in our car so she got stage fright. Mommy decided she needed was better song to "pee to" so Daddy put in a Stones CD and changed the words from "Start Me Up" to "Pee in a Cup." Daddy thought it was funny. I did too. Mommy didn't. She said Daddy was a dummy. I will probably call your kid that one day. Don't get mad at me. It's not my fault. It's my parents and my environment. I'm a sponge.

Our reason for going to Chicago was for a Bat Mitzvah. What's a Bat Mitzvah? I have no idea but there was free food, dancing and everyone thought I was super cute. I even got to go to services. Mommy said I probably wouldn't like services (I guess she doesn't) but I was totally into it. I was dancing in the aisles by myself and no one cared. They loved me. Jews are nice. Mommy and her friend Elise took me and Jessie out of services few times. Mommy thought I was getting something called "schpilkas." I am not positive, but I think that means "ants in your pants" in some language called Yiddish. (Don't get in my diaper if I'm wrong. I am still trying to learn English. When I got here, no one said anything about me having to learn Yiddish too). When the Torah came around, my Papa and Grammy took me to kiss it. I did. I rock at being a Jew.

I had to sleep in a Pack 'n Play at the hotel. Lame. We had a suite but I made a HUGE ruckus when Daddy tried to put me in the Pack 'n Play and leave me in the room by myself. I wasn't into that at all. I did the "I'm really scared" cry and he caved really fast. Mommy was in the lobby with her friends but I know she would have caved too. First of all, we were in a hotel. Second of all, she doesn't like when I cry like that either. It is the one cry I have that makes her sad...and that makes her stressed...and that makes her eat. They resolved to let me sleep in their room for the 2 nights we were there. I got to fall asleep with them in their bed and after they were sure I was really asleep, Daddy would--very gingerly-- lift me up and put me in the Pack 'n Play. One night I moved and made some noise during the transport just to mess with them, but I stayed asleep.

We left for home on Sunday morning and all I knew was that we were going to meet up with the Otis family at Cracker Barrel. Mommy was excited. We had no idea that the trip home was going to take 7 hours again, but this time it was because of rain. HEAVY RAIN. It was rain that didn't stop all weekend in Chicago and apparently, it was doing the same in Michigan. It took us forever to get home. It sucked real bad, but I was a trooper. My parents told me so.

When we got home, beat up and broken down, Mommy went to get Floyd Coden and Daddy found that our house had flooded. The new side of the house. The side of the house with my bedroom, my playroom and my bathroom. My room got it the worst. Daddy was stuck extracting water for most of the night. It was not fun for him. Mommy says that we should be thankful that he is handy and not one of those "nebbishy" Jewish guys who can't do anything around the house, but once again I have no idea what she's talking about because I don't know what "nebbishy" means. One language at a time, lady.

It seems that the private school not far from us has a major problem with their drainage and since the water had no place to go, it decided to come and ruin our house. Mommy has been devastated all week. Daddy has been back and forth from work to home to meet the insurance guys, the work guys, and the guys from the City of Beverly Hills. Mommy says it would be like a porno movie with all these workmen, but so far everyone has kept their clothes on.

Since I'm not allowed to sleep in my room, and all of my furniture has been moved out, I've been sleeping in Mommy and Daddy's room--back in a Pack 'n Play next to Floyd Coden's bed. I think Mommy and Daddy might be bummin' out a little bit that I'm sleeping in there. Yes, I think I have more teeth coming in so I have been waking up 20 times a night coughing or crying in my sleep, but I usually fall right back asleep in 2 seconds. Is it my fault that they can't get back to sleep? Yes, I have been getting up at 5:30 in the morning (I'm not really sure why) but it's probably because the Pack 'n Play mattress blows and someone forgot my Sealy Posturpedic. Yes, I'm sorry that Mommy and Daddy aren't able to read, watch TV or have sexytime with me around but HELLO? Do you think it's a picnic for me being displaced? I didn't come all the way here from China to be stuck in a freakin' Pack 'n Play for over a week!

Oh, well. It's just temporary, right? Thankfully, there's lots of people working to get my life back together though I do feel bad for Daddy--he hasn't been able to relax for one minute since he got home from camp.

I'm going back to my nap. I need my sleep because tonight Grampa is coming to hang out with me while Mommy and Daddy go stuff their faces with Angela and Andy for their Anniversary. When they get home, I have a little present for them. I'm going to wake up at 4:00 in the morning with a horrible, relentless cough and I'm going to do this while I'm still sleeping as they (Clueless 1 and 2) discuss what to do to with me.

"She's sleeping...what do we do?" "She needs water." "Don't wake her." "Should we wake her?" "She's up anyway, she's freaking coughing like crazy." "She's sleeping though." "If we wake her, she won't go back to sleep." "She's coughing anyway--who's sleeping?"

Finally, after 40 minutes no one wants to relive, I will promptly stand up in the Pack 'n Play at 4:40 in the morning and I will cry. They will wallow in their defeat for a minute and then they will get me out and start scrambling. When I don't take the water Mommy is pushing my way, she will give me watermelon and she will reason that it "has water in it." Daddy, at this time, will confer with the Your Child's Health book that Dr. Molly gave us so they don't have to wake her ass up. They will go to page 589, read it, and Daddy will run a hot shower for 10 minutes and take me in there hoping that the warm moisture will relax my vocal cords. It doesn't really work. They're in for a long night, a lot of worrying, and some good looking dark circles tomorrow.

Happy Anniversary...Dummies.