Monday, December 21, 2009

Moving Day- Guest Blogger Edition

So, last Saturday was our moving day! We are slowly unpacking, arranging furniture and getting settled in. I love our neighborhood, love our community and love, love, love our house. It is totally more than I ever expected and honestly, I'm thrilled with this "down" market and the fact that we can afford this place. Well, more pictures and updates on the house will follow. 

Without further ado.... I have a guest blogger (my best friend and James' godmother) who wanted to recount (vent) her adventures with James as we were moving on Saturday.

Here goes........

A Day with James-

To give you a little back ground, Tom and I are James’ Godparents.   We adore the little guy and have watched him on numerous occasions, including several overnighters.  With the exception of James teaching himself to unbuckle his car seat while I was driving, or locking me out of the house (fortunately I had a key) these experiences were a little exhausting but lots of fun.  Then came Saturday December 19, 2009… 

December 19, was moving day for the Hayman household and I volunteered to help.  It was determined that my usefulness could be best maximized by taking James home with me.  “Ahhh,” thought I, “the easy job.”   It started well… I got a great big “Aunt Veronica” hug.  We loaded my car with enough toys to keep a platoon of two year olds happy for a week (or so I thought) and his car seat was strapped in and made escape proof.  

First stop…. the park.   James loves the park by our house.  It has many elaborate slide sets, swings and lots of kids to watch and play with.   He especially enjoyed being swung while there was a pretty two year old girl on the swing next to his.  (Wonder where he gets his love of the ladies from?)   Then there was the “Run Away from Aunt Veronica” game.  He was winning hands down until he fell and got an “owie” on his arm.  Got to give him credit, he never stopped laughing let alone started to cry.  The only way I knew he got injured was when I saw the scrape.  Time to get lunch and get his “owie” cleaned up.  This met with significant objection as James was not yet ready to leave the park, owie be damned.   I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no objection like a two year olds objection.  The owie had no power to cause tears but leaving the park brought him literally screaming to his knees. 

Off to McDonalds drive thru for the kids meal with chicken nuggets, apple slices and milk.  He wanted his milk immediately but his sippy cups were in the back.  I didn’t want him to have an open milk carton in the back seat of my car so told him he could have his milk as soon as we got home.  Have you ever driven five miles with a two year old screaming…. “I WANT MILK!” the entire way?  It makes for a very long five miles.

Home at last!  Now I have Uncle Tom to help and nap time is fast approaching.  Things are looking up.  It’s ok that he decides to use the caramel dip he got for his apples on his chicken nuggets!  Don’t worry about the sugar in the caramel dip because most of it is on his shirt anyway.   With a couple of minutes to clean the Owie and terrorize our cat and it’s time for nap, blessed nap.   Pack and play is set up, James is deposited in it with his blanket and pillow.  James is told to go night, night and I shut the door to his room. Uncle Tom and I lay down for a nap ourselves since we got up at 4:00 a.m. to run.  Two minutes of quiet, then I hear it…  A door opening that shouldn’t be.  Kind of like something out of a Hitchcock movie.  I creep out of bed and see the door of the guest room ajar.  Behind the opening a little face peeps out and says… “Milk!”

Somehow, James figured out how to climb out of his Pack & Play.  Why does this child turn into Houdini when I watch him?  First the car seat now, now the pack and play!  I put him back in the crib and admonish him to stay in there.  He angelically says, “OK”.   Two minutes later the door opens again.  Uncle Tom suggests a diaper change, which I do (it was barely damp) and deposit him back in the bed.  Two more minutes… the door opens again.  I send in Uncle Tom who yells… “We’ve got a gusher going.”   Big poop blow out.   Uncle Tom got him over the toilet and his diaper off before handing him to me.  I got him on his back on the bathroom rug (no time to lay down a towel) before I realized blow out residue was all over his butt and now ground into the throw rug.   While I’m frantically trying to get a towel, James jumps up and steps squarely in the poop on the carpet.  Carmel on his shirt and poop on his socks!  I’m figuring Kalani will never let me watch him again but at that moment I was thinking “I can live with that.”  Uncle Tom now abandons all thoughts of a nap retreats to the garage where he has a woodworking project he needs to finish for a Christmas present.   (Sounded like an excuse to me.)   I lay James down once more.  This time, he not only escapes but locks the bedroom door which required Uncle Tom to come in from the garage to pick the lock.  Finally, I lay down on the bed next to James’ pack and play as that is the only way he won’t try to escape.  He falls asleep and dozes soundly for all of ONE HALF HOUR.   I’m like, “Only HALF HOUR?  He’s always slept 2 – 3 hours when I’ve watched him before.” 

Nap time over and it’s time to run and I mean that literally.  He loves sidewalks and would go a quarter mile out and quarter mile back (we repeated twice).  He’s already faster than I am so I got quite the work out.  Upon our return, he set up a litany cry of “I want Tom.”  Unfortunately, saws and woodworking tools are not items you want two year olds hanging around.  In desperation, I called Kalani who suggested I get his DVD going.  Great idea except for one little problem, the DVD Kalani sent was “Brier Rabbit” and James wanted “Thomas the Train”.   This caused a tantrum as Tom and I don’t keep any Thomas the Train videos in our house.   He finally acquiesced to watch Brier Rabbit for about 10 minutes.  During this time, I cleaned up the kitchen and got some snacks ready.   In the mean time, Tom realized I locked the garage door (to keep James from sneaking out) and had to beat on the door to gain entrance.  Turns out that locking that door only inconvenienced Tom because James promptly figured out how to unlock it once the DVD ceased to hold his attention.  He was into the garage to “help” Uncle Tom almost before I heard the door open. 

The next several hours are something of a blur.  I have vague memories of things like:  1) James getting my tooth brush (long story about step stools could be inserted here) and almost putting it in his mouth before I caught him.  2) James “carrying” our cat across the room with his legs dangling and a look of desperation on his little feline face.  3) James trying to use our bed and couch as trampolines.  4)  James trying to drink out of the cat’s drinking fountain.  5)  Having to hunt down the phone that James had taken off the hook so we could again receive phone calls.  6)  James going into meltdown because he was exhausted from having only ½ hour nap.  

About 6:30 Kalani called to say they’d be by soon.  I heaved an audible sigh of relief and had James packed and ready to go in five minutes.  Kalani was a little worried I’d have him sitting street side when she pulled up.   

Tom and I continue to adore our little guy but he really put us through our paces.  Tom, who rarely drinks, said… “As soon as he leaves, I need a drink.”  We’ll recover enough to babysit another day (in a year or two – lol – at least I think lol.).  Seriously, we can’t wait to see him enjoying his first REAL Christmas and are very happy (usually) he’s in our life.

(James, if you’re reading this, the story about you walking through your own poop is so going to come up when you bring your first date home.) 

Aunt Veronica


  1. Congratulations on the new house, and also - poor Veronica! That totally cracked me up and of course sounded a bit familiar :) Even the poop story - that has happened here too! You are lucky to have such great friends down there. Merry Christmas!!

  2. Boy what memories for his future children.
    Love Granpa