A National Airport and other such things

I was gone. To DC, well actually Northern Virginia, for several days. And Anderson came with me. It was a whirl wind of a trip and I regret that I did not get to see several friends or do some things I had wanted to - like more shopping. Although Jonathan is happy about the shopping part - the not shopping, actually.

I did get to see my great friend Christie. I miss her and love our conversations. Our babies played and napped and we talked and drank mimosas and I didn't want to leave.

I flew in and out of National. I know it is called Reagan Airport now, but having lived near there in the ye olde days, it is still National to me. And, quite honestly, no one has ever been confused by me calling it National Airport.

Dulles might be my favorite airport for architecture but National takes the prize for setting. Every. Time. I love looking out the window and seeing the D.C.'s grid. I like picking out monuments and memorable places. I have come in to land over the river which is both thrilling and frightening. I love taxi-ing down the runaway with a view of the Capital's dome and then seeing the rectilinear shape of the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument. I remember as a kid calling it the big pencil. I wonder what my children will call it.

And every time I leave, I want to go back. I never have enough time.

And for those of you who only want news of the Notorious variety, last night, after my shower, I was tucking MRA into bed. Here is how the conversation went down:

MRA: Mama, let me smell you.
Me: Leaning in so he can smell my shoulder.
Him: Hhhhhmmmmmm, you smell good, just the way I like it. I missed you.

Wordless Wednesday

Just when you think you are in the clear...

I am busy. SO BUSY.

This weekend is my sister's baby shower. In DC. I am co-hosting. And I am taking Chubalicious. Mostly, he is accompanying me so Daddy only has to deal with the Notorious MRA. Actually, that is the ONLY reason I am bringing him. Well... that and he is still free to fly.

So with work and public hearings, and trying to save buildings, and plan baby showers, and pack, and blah blah, I don't have a lot of time to dwell.

This not dwelling thing is kinda a good thing.

For example, last night, for no apparent reason, the Notorious MRA pooped in the shower. Yep, right there on the shower floor.

Jonathan and I were mortified. I asked him why he did it. He didn't know. I asked him, "Where are you supposed to poop?" He responded,  "The potty." I asked him if the shower was the potty andhe said no and pointed to the potty so clearly he understands that the shower is NOT the potty. He has been pooping on the potty for months so, what the wuck?

I told him I wasn't reading him a bedtime story because I needed to spend that time cleaning up the poopy shower (In reality, Jonathan cleaned it up - God bless him.). Then I just felt guilty for using reading as a  repercussion.

That's actually what I went to sleep thinking about - how to balance repercussions and punishment. And, what exactly is the appropriate response to pooping in the shower.

And you know what, even though I was all kinds of disgusted. I am so busy that I forgot that he shat in my shower. Until just now. And, I am disgusted all over again.

Blech!

Wordless Wednesday

Its definitely a hate thing.

I bought a fancy new scale. Its digital. Its uber accurate.

 It measures body fat and water composition in addition to weight.

I was excited for it to come.

I could not wait.

It came. I weighed. I hate it.

The Scarlet MRA

Did you know that Scarlet Fever is real? I mean, like, really real, not just something in an 19th century novel?

Seriously, its not a literary device. And its ugly. Lots of children die from it, or did, before antibiotics. You can goggle it if you want but I don't recommend it because if you have a little kiddo, it will scare you.

In case you haven't figured it out by now, the Notorious MRA has Scarlet Fever. It was hard to figure out at first because he couldn't tell us that his throat hurt. We would ask him and he would just click his tongue. He is one hell of a trooper, though, and did little complaining, relatively speaking.

The treatment is antibiotics, which he is taking. And, they appear to be working as his fever is down to a low grade 99.5 and he has resumed stealing toys out of his brothers hands.

Thank God for modern medicine.