And that’s how it goes.

According to The Mad Hatter, there are some new rules in this house.

It’s been a long few days with the flooding and all, so when the sun came out this afternoon, we took full advantage of having some good friends over for a playdate, spending a few glorious hours outside, burning off energy and enjoying the beautiful and dry weather.

The playdate ran its course after a few hours, as most do, and by the end of the day, I was ready to run out the door when Daddy walked in slightly frustrated with the MH, who was having some minor sharing issues.

At the last minute, I’d remembered that I should probably put dinner on the table, and took out some chicken to defrost, but when the hubby walked in, I was still trying to figure out what to do with it.

Being the wonderful husband he is, he suggested ordering takeout, and off to Panera he and the little princess went.

I should probably interject here that it’s Passover, and therefore I’m not eating any bread and for unknown religious reasons/rules most other normal foods, but the hubby is not observing. His choice, and I could really care less.

BUT. I ordered a salad, while he feasted on a delicious looking panini, and a side of bread. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t look and smell delicious.

When he finished his own meal and reached into my potato chip bag, my instant response was “Hey! You got bread!”

And the Mad Hatter says:

“Daddy wants what he wants, and he gets what he wants, whenever he wants it. Anything he wants he can have, and that’s the rules.”

I guess I’ve been put in my place.

Author’s note: I jumped out of my chair immediately to blog about this, and the whole time, MH has been bringing me chips out of her own bag. Apparently she is firm on her rules, but still willing to share.

Seriously, where do they come up with this stuff?

I got a feelin’.

That today’s gonna be a good day.

That today’s gonna be a great day!

I’ve been kinda draggy lately. Tired. Logy. No real will to move in the morning (sans the fact, of course that I’m a mommy, therefore I don’t have a choice).

I think I’ve been in slight depression mode since returning home from our vacation.

I mean, of course I am elated to be back with my little girl. If you read this, you know I missed her like crazy.

But …

I’m just having a hard time getting back to reality and it’s taking its toll on me and how I feel about myself. I have a lot of things on my mind, and sometimes they feel like they’re overtaking me.

I’m sure the weather has been of no help. I can’t remember the last time we saw sun. And I’m beyond sad for all of those here in RI who are suffering from the devastating effects of the flooding that’s put us on the national news. Honestly, for this tiny little state, I’d compare what some are going through to the effects of Hurricane Katrina. It is devastating.

This morning, I got up, got right out of bed, and hopped in the shower.

I was dressed, made up (if you can call bronzer, blush, a swipe of eye shadow, eyeliner, and lip gloss swiped on in the car “made up”), hair washed, dried, and flat-ironed (having a great hair day if I do say so myself!), child dressed, fed, teeth brushed, toys picked for the car, and on the road by 9:25.

If you know me, you know this is big. HUGE.

We’ve met two different friends to drop things off with them, gone to CVS (where I had almost $16 extra bucks waiting for me – WOOT!), done some grocery shopping, and stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts for a treat for the amazingly well-behaved Mad Hatter and an iced coffee for me (talk about struggling with the temptation of freshly baked donuts during Passover – my will to be an observant Jew won out … again, WOOT!).

Now, we’re back home and I’m straightening up for an afternoon playdate (that’s an effort in futility– we all know I’ll end up doing it all over again and then some after said playdate).

I may even squeeze in a little Passover baking.

I need more days like this in my life.

I’m going to have to make them happen.

Because you know what? Days like this do wonders  for my mental health.

I’ve gotten stuff done. I feel empowered and accomplished. And I have an energy I haven’t felt in weeks.

Two by two.

When you’re lucky enough that your electricity is still working and the phone lines aren’t down sitting at your laptop perusing online pictures of the damage that has been done by flooding that has turned the state you live in into a “State of Emergency” and made national news:

 

I’m at this intersection so regularly and I almost didn’t recognize it (it’s right near the mall)

 

 

Seriously … imagine being IN that car!

 

The fact that your kitchen is in craft shambles brought about  by your 5 year-old who is channeling her inner artist (and has been doing so for almost 4 hours, and it’s only 11AM), and who keeps repeatedly telling you “I made this, isn’t it cool?” yes, honey it is – I must have missed the last 457 times you mentioned that, and you must have missed all 457 of my oohs and aahs just doesn’t seem quite as bad as if it were a normal day.

 

What’s that, you ask? No it’s not a Native American head-dress. 
It’s an “ice-cream sundae-helper-crown”.

 

  
Well of course I should have known. Ice cream does put a huge smile like that on MY face.
Like mother like daughter.
And that’s a star on top (on the green part in the center). Because it’s so. cool.

 

In the time it’s taken me to upload pics and write this post, she’s moved on to making a wearable truck (a happy truck with googly-eyes and a smile not dissimilar from the one above) out of a Gymboree bag.

No one can ever accuse my child of lacking imagination or creativity. Or being a good little recycler for that matter.

As for the cleanup?

Well, as illustrated above, it could be a lot worse.

Thank you to all of you who have asked. We are safe, warm, and DRY.

And now I must run … someone just grabbed the Elmer’s glue.

Car logic.

Having a five year old with an ever-blossoming imagination brings about interesting conversation on a daily basis.

This week, we’ve been talking a lot about cars.

The Mad Hatter has decided that both Mommy and Daddy’s cars must each have a specific function because of their brand names.

Mommy drives a Toyota Highlander.

Toyota means the car must be filled with toys. Which of course, makes perfect sense, since we spend most of the time in Mommy’s car, and little kids have lots of toys. (this also means that Mommy spends a considerable amount of time reminding the MH to bring her toys back into the house, since we don’t need a virtual playground on wheels)

It’s a Highlander, because we’re “higher up” than other cars on the road.

Decent logic, right?

I’ll bet you’re just dying to know what Daddy drives.

A Ford Tortoise.

Which according to MH means Daddy’s car drives slow, just like a turtle moves.

Daddy is in agreement.

And of course, we’re reminded at all times, that we must drive the speeding limit.

However, this rule only applies if there are police cars around – otherwise we should just speed up and pass all those slow old people.

Mommy and Daddy both drive blue cars. Wanna know why? Because we’re a family and families should have matching cars.

Gotta love five-year-old logic.

The post I can’t believe I’m posting.

This is what you get with me … feast or famine.

I hope those of you reading are enjoying the feast.

And since I was talking about pictures today, I thought I’d share one more of yours truly along with the ever-precious Mad Hatter.

It has been a long evening and I’m questioning my sanity in posting this – as my husband just told me, “You got balls.”

Well honey, when you leave for a meeting and MH says “Well, Mommy, look like it’s just you and me!” this is the sort of thing that happens:

For the record, I was not the hair-stylist.

Would you believe that MH got the idea to take a snapshot of us on the webcam and send it to Twitter?

Well.

Girls just wanna have fun.

To my precious girl on school picture day.

Dearest Mad Hatter,

If the evidence below is any indication, there’s a slight possibility I may have tortured you just a teeny, tiny bit this morning in preparation for your school pictures.

 

You had the perfect little dress. The perfect little cardigan to go over it. The perfect little white tights even though I thought they were going to look awful, Sweetheart was right.

The perfect pink daisy clip in your hair.

The perfect little body tucked into it all.

And the perfect little personality that no one will ever see from that picture if you smile the way you normally do for pictures when someone asks you to – horribly!

I don’t know what it is, but when someone tells you to smile, you morph into what you think is model-mode.

Scrunched up shoulders. Tilted chin. Squinty eyes. Cheese-ola smile. Hands up around your face.

I’ve deleted those photos.

I don’t know where you picked this up, but I spent a good part of yesterday and all of this morning trying to coach you on how not to smile.

What do you say we try to forget about the fact that I snapped 71 pics before we left the house?

Or that you actually asked me if we could stop because you wanted to get to school on time.

I am sorry  my love.

I would just adore a professionally taken photo especially when I’ve had to pay lots of money for it ahead of time regardless of how it turns out that captures your smile the way I see it. Not the way you think you should do it.

While I can’t promise that we won’t go through this every year at school picture time although if you keep this up I’m going to have to look into un-modeling agencies, I can promise you this:

No picture I could ever hang on the wall could possibly do  justice to the amazing beauty and charisma you exude to myself, Daddy, and everyone who knows you.

 

   

 

And that, Mad Hatter? I wouldn’t trade for all the grains of sand on all the beaches in all the world.

Or a perfect photograph.

I love you,

Mommy

PS I hope when they snapped your picture, you were remembering our little “You Are My Sunshine” sing-along while I was snapping away.

PPS There’s a cotton-candy Dippin’ Dots waiting in the freezer with your name on it.

Hanging my head in shame.

Wow. I had really gotten my blogging mojo back there for a while.

Then, BAM!

An impromptu, pretty last-minute (and totally unlike us) tropical getaway for DH and I.

As in, leave The Mad Hatter for the first time for more than two nights at a destination an hour away, fly to Florida (where it was so freakin' cold my first souvenirs were a frozen iguana, a new pair of sweats, and hoodie!), hop on a cruise-ship for four days, return to Miami and stay one more night, making us gone for a total of 6 nights.

Make that 7, if you add in the fact that our flight for Florida (thank you Delta, for making it oh-so-easy for us to use our frequent flier miles. Aren't you the friendly skies?) left at 5:45AM so MH slept at Sweetheart at Poppy's house the night before we left for said vacay.

Anyhoo, if you're still following, I give you credit.

The time leading up to our trip was chaotic.

The time leading up to our trip was traumatic.

Our trip? Was amazing.

I remembered what it was like to have intelligent (and not so intelligent) adult conversation.

I did not miss the words "excuse me" followed by non-stop interruption.

I savored having NO schedule.

I adored having time to reconnect with my hubby.

We were desperately in need of that time together. Desperately. Seriously, after almost 9 years of marriage, we are like newlyweds again!

Is it easy to leave your little one for almost a week? Hell to the NO!

I missed my little MH like crazy (in a healthy way while we were sailing the high seas, when we returned and still had another day before heading home - well, let's just say there were lots of tears and a wonderful hubby willing to give up our paid-for hotel and car rental and pay extra so we could come home early. Ultimately, we did not come home early, but hubby definitely gets major bonus points for trying, and I'm really glad we ended up staying and having a fabulous time in South Beach).

Did the MH totally get over-indulged as a result of my guilt over leaving her? Uh, that might be the understatement of the year (I made sure to leave a gift for every day, she was with her grandparents - enough said, had a special night out with a very close friend, spent time with her amazing Uncle, and was showered with gifts upon our return, along with a special "Mad Hatter" week filled with special activities just for her).

Do I think it's wrong that my child was over-indulged? Nope.

Am I over my guilt about leaving her and having some true me/us time? Yup.

Did hubs and I see a Royal Caribbean commercial tonight and sigh longingly? You betcha.

Can I wait for our family vacation this summer? I'm counting down the days because everything in our life is better since she made us a family.

This would be me a full hour after we got off the plane and I sprinted through the airport, knocking out anyone in the way of me getting to my little girl. Still crying. And right now, in disbelief that I'm actually posting such a picture of myself!

So about that hanging my head in shame ... I went on vacay, came back, and life got the better of me. The people and things in my life deserved the better of me. The all of me.

But I've missed my blog, and my friends' blogs, and the way writing makes me feel. So, I'm working on making some time and getting that mojo back.

Even if it is at 2:02 in the morning.