Better Bedtimes

With Hubby away this week, and me coughing, coughing, coughing (again), we’ve slid into a bit of survival mode here at home. I have extremely low expectations for housecleaning and routines. The place is cluttered, the laundry pile is growing, and the kids are eating whatever.

But, weirdly, bedtimes have gone smoothly.

Bedtime is typically a bit of a battle, with me generally resorting to reading endless books until the kids fall asleep way too late. This week, it’s been a cinch.

The first night Hubby was away was the night of the snowstorm. I was late from work, late picking up the kids from Nana’s, and thus late getting them to bed. That night, out of exhaustion and stress and the hour, I abandoned any attempt to get the kids down in their own rooms. I simply pushed our bed up against the wall and placed pillows and soft stuffed animals all around. The kids were happy to get into pajamas, hop up and snuggle with me. We read two books, turned out the light, called Daddy to say good nights, and they fell asleep. Easy! I assumed it was because it was so late (almost 10 p.m.) and they were plumb done.

But, that’s what we’ve done every night since, and, at a decent hour. We’ve had a stretch of 7:30 p.m. asleep times, which totally crazy early for us. Yes, a normal kids’ bedtime for the rest of the country, but generally an unsuccessful struggle for us. Pajamas, a couple of books, lights out, call Daddy, fall asleep.

Maybe the kids have been tuckered out by the cold and playing in the snow. Or maybe they really like the snuggling/ reading/ lights out/ goodnight Daddy routine. Maybe they’re extra comforted by falling asleep in our bed, next to each other. Maybe tonight it will all fall apart.

Whatever the reason, I’ve been enjoying the extra time in the evenings to catch up on work stuff, and even to study for the boards. I’m chipping away at the laundry. House is still a mess, but hey, I’m sick and have had to get to bed relatively early myself. I’m thankful that I’ve been able to get some sleep… and thankful for Nyquil, too.

Additional thanks go out to J.B. who took my scheduled call this weekend: If I was on call right now, I’d be miserable. SO appreciated. I’ll repay you…. after football season.

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Blizzards and Blessings

We had a major blizzard with a ton of snow yesterday. It was all over the news and the major topic of any conversation for days. Everyone was running around crazy.

And anyone I ran into asked me something along these lines:

“How jealous are you that your husband’s in sunny Arizona for all of this?”

And yes, it is true that Hubby and the team lifted off just as the snow clouds blew in. It is true that it’s considerably warmer in AZ with no chance of inclement weather. It is also true that even I got a bit storm-panicked, knowing that it was just me and the kids. I had needed to add on a patient to my Monday afternoon clinic, check results and call as many people as I could, round on my folks in the hospital… So I got out of the city and to my mother’s on the later side, and drove home with the kids as the storm began. Even in the dark and snow, I made the kids help me pick up the yard; they gathered and put away their toys, and I battened down the barrels and recycle bins, got the shovels and ice melt out. Later, after they were asleep, I searched for our flashlights and batteries, candles and matches, my hands almost shaking.

But, I’m not jealous, because I know how many years and decades and stress and doubt went into Hubby’s first trip to the Super Bowl. This is a guy who started practicing his play-by-play skills over forty years ago, turning the basement rec room TV volume down, and talking into a play microphone. He worked his way up from the local little league PA system to the most minor of minor leagues baseball and up, then college basketball and lacrosse, then football. He rode with his teams to games in yellow school buses; endured endless overnight trips in travel buses; and stayed in more than one questionable motel (Allergies vs. bedbugs? was not an uncommon question).

He lived from contract to contract, never a salaried position, with plenty of brutal competition. Like all self-employed folks, he had to research and buy health insurance, and pay estimated taxes (horrors!). He was often based far from me, and on the road.

Then, one day when Babyboy was about two and Babygirl an infant, and Hubby was finagling for yet another contract with a team based in another state, he asked me:

“How long can I keep doing this? Do you need me to look for a real job?”

“Well, what would you do?” I asked.

“Uh, I saw a sales job at Nordstrom’s that might be interesting, or I could look at bookstores…”

I remember saying something along the lines of “Are you nuts? Get back to your charts and your networking! We’ll be fine.”

And he did, and we are.

It snowed for 24 hours. The wind was sharp and stinging. Huge drifts formed against the front door and the back steps. I was up at 5:30 a.m., thrilled that we didn’t lose electricity, and excited that it was a snow day for me (as well as for everyone, with a governor-imposed travel ban). The kids slept in. I used the time to log into work, check some lab results. I even spoke to a few patients, before the kids woke up. In the norming, we watched considerable television as I got caught up on cleaning/ laundry/ dishes.

I did get the kids all outfitted in their hand-me-down snow gear, and out we went, twice. They fairly swam through the snow. Babygirl lasted about five minutes both times, crying with cold hands. Babyboy lasted until he lost his boots in the snow, and had to run inside with freezing wet feet. I searched and dug until I found his boots, twice.

I tried to shovel, but with the kids needing to go inside, I didn’t make it very far.

But our local heroes stepped in. Here is a big thanks to our neighbors:

THANK YOU to Paula and Mark, who descended on the back driveway with a snowblower and shovels, cheerfully clearing out the huge plow-mounds and drifts. THANK YOU to Jim, who cleared our entire front sidewalk to the street, after dark. THANK YOU to Christine, who provided us with homemade Italian sausage soup and macaroni and cheese with the most delicious Ritz cracker crumb crust, true comfort food.

And THANKS to everyone who has wished Hubby well as he covers his first Superbowl.



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“Give Me The F#@%ing Banana!”

And I didn’t say floating, flying, or farting.

It snowed yesterday, Saturday. I had had plans.  We were expecting a parade of potential babysitters (I’m interviewing for a regular Saturday afternoon sitter), and then I was going to take the kids to the library.

But, it snowed. It’s the first snow we’ve had in a long time, and it was beautiful. It wasn’t alot of snow (maybe 3 or 4 inches total for us), but it was an impressively heavy snow, and still falling. All the sitters cancelled. So the kids and I went outside to help Hubby clear off his car, since he had drive down to work, no matter what. Then we played in the yard: made snowmen, threw snowballs, dug a snow construction site….

Eventually, hands got cold, noses got runny, and even Babyboy wanted to go back inside. So inside we went, shedding our wet layers. Soon, the kitchen entryway was covered in every winter outergarment possible, laid out to dry. Everyone wanted lunch, though it was only 11 a.m. We ate; we painted and drew; we even baked cinnamon apple muffins. I managed to keep them occupied without turning on the television for a long time.

At one point, when I was washing dishes, the kids decided to “go shopping”. This is when they fill a recycle grocery bag with items from our pantry and fridge. It’s cute, but it usually means that several fruits get mangled. We were really low on fruit, and though I was counting on Hubby to do a big shop later, I told the kids:

“Okay, you can put the fruit in the bag, but don’t play with it, and don’t take it out of this room.”

Yeah, right. Probably two minutes later, there was a spat of giggling, excited screams, and little feet running upstairs. I dried my hands and went to check on them. From the bottom of the stairs, I heard elephant stampede noises and loud yelling:

“I have a banana phone!”

“That’s MY banana phone, give it back!”

“No, you have an apple phone.”

“Apples can’t be phones! I want the banana phone! Give it! AAAAARGH!”

Then there were loud thumps and whacks and general mayhem.

I ran upstairs to find the kids wrestling on Babyboy’s bed. Babyboy saw me and held a banana to his hear, yelled “Hi Mommy!” while Babygirl tried to snatch it away. The grocery bag was empty and all the fruit was scattered over the floor and the bed, most of it under their little feet.

I, of course, started yelling, trying to yell over them: “Stop! You’re squishing all the fruit! I don’t want to have to throw it away! Give me that!” But I’ve got laryngitis (forgot to mention that) and my current yell is a pathetic hoarse whisper. So I ended up in the fray, trying to snatch the banana from Babyboy.

The kids thought this was all very funny. Their mirth, of course, made me CRAZY mad, and I got right in Babyboy’s face. As loud as I could, I rasped: “GIVE ME THE F#%&ING BANANA!!!!” I succeeded in grabbing it away, and angrily stuffed that and all the other sad fruit back into the grocery bag.

Babyboy and Babygirl both sat on the bed, watching me; not upset, but like they were wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Genuinely concerned. Then Babygirl said, shaking her head:

“Mommy, you should apologize. It isn’t NICE to take other people’s fruit away from them.”

Babyboy joined in: “Mommy, you should say you’re SORRY because that WASN’T VERY NICE,” and he emphasized each word by pointing his finger at me.

This went on, and they ended up jumping up and down on the bed, chanting:

“Mommy should say I’m sorry! Mommy should say I’m sorry!”

What do you do?

I realized that if any of the neighbors had heard my yelling, they’d be questioning my mental health. Thank God I’ve got laryngitis.

I also realized they were right, I should apologize, for using very bad language.

So we all collapsed on the bed in a big tickle-hug. The fruit was toast.

And later on, I found a very helpful article by Boston pediatrician and writer Claire McCarthy, 6 Ways To Stop Yelling At Your Kids (Or At Least Do It Less), originally posted on the Huffington Post.


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Let Them Draw On The Walls!

Babyboy has been a little bundle of creative energy. We keep running out of paper, he draws so many pictures a day. As a matter of fact, for lack of plain paper handy, he drew this picture on his bedroom wall.

I was interviewing a babysitting candidate at the time, showing her around the house. As we were upstairs chatting about the kids’ bedtime routine, Babyboy grabbed a black marker, knelt by the wall next to his bed, and started sketching.

As he was sketching, he was explaining what he was drawing, not for us, but just because that’s what he does. He talks while he draws, as many kids do, verbally illustrating the scene that they’re imagining.

He was saying:

“The doctor says, you need an x-ray. You ate some sticks and leaves and they might make you sick. So you need an xray. You need to lie down on that table. Then the helicopter will come and land on the roof. There’s more sick people in the helicopter.”

I was floored. He was drawing a hospital! And a doctor, and an x-ray machine, and a helicopter. I watched and listened, fascinated.

Meanwhile, the babysitter was floored too. She’s a lovely college student from a good family. A family that very likely never allowed their kids to draw on their bedroom walls.

“Um, is it okay for him to do that?” she asked.

I only had to think for a second.

“Sure, why not… My parents let me draw on my bedroom walls when I was a kid, too.” And it’s true, they did. A a teenager, they let me painted over the flowery wallpaper and devote a whole wall to my own graffiti artwork. I was very proud of it. I spent hours thinking about what to say and how to say it, in art form. Sometimes, my friends added their names or doodles, and they thought it was the coolest thing ever. That wall was a beam of cheery light in an otherwise dreary adolescence.

But seriously, how different are kids’ drawings from those stickers and stencils people put on their kids’ walls? Just, it’s the kid’s own artwork, so it’s even better. Let them own their rooms.

Someday, we’ll just paint over it, if need be. What’s the big deal?

I leaned forward and squeezed Babyboy. “I love your picture, honey. It looks just like the hospital where I work. Good job.”

But I did make sure to explain to the sitter that they aren’t allowed to draw on the living room walls. The creative freedom ends at the bedroom door…

I made Babyboy stop working on his little mural, and we headed back downstairs to show the sitter the kitchen and mealtime routine.

When Hubby got home and saw the drawing, he smiled and exclaimed, “Oh my gosh, it’s a helicopter, isn’t it?”

Babyboy was so proud. “Yes! It is! And there is the doctor. And this is the x-ray machine…”

Hubby and I exchanged glances, smiling. He hugged Babyboy and praised him. Not one second wasted worrying about the damaged paint job.

I sat on the bed and thought, here is further evidence to suggest that I married the right guy, and Babyboy’s going to be just fine.



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Super-Healthy Flourless Chocolate-Coconut Brownies

I remember back in the 1990’s when flourless chocolate cake was all the rage. Desserts with names like “Chocolate Orgasm” were on every menu. Of course, I had to make that. But even as an athletic college student, I was horrified at the ingredients list: unbelievable amounts of butter, cream, eggs, chocolate, sugar…. Like fudge, with eggs. Seeing as I aim to live to a ripe old age without requiring an emergency triple bypass, I’ve rarely revisited this recipe.

Fast forward to this month’s Bon Appetit (The New Healthy Issue, 1/15). The only time I can find to read this magazine is when the kids are in the tub. I’ll flip through and flag a few recipes while they splish and splash. This month, there is a feature on D.I.Y. energy bars. One of these is a no-bake chocolate-coconut date bar. I envisioned that these would likely resemble slightly undercooked, dense, dark chocolate brownies. Like that Chocolate Orgasm cake. But, without any butter, sugar, or flour whatsoever.

I’ve GOT to make these, I thought.

But several ingredients weren’t in my pantry, or in any of our usual grocery stores. So, in my spare mental time (especially on my evening commute home, when I’m starving), I worked out some readily available substitutions, and waited until I had a chance to put it all together.

That was today. It’s a football game day, and we usually get together with family to watch/ listen to hubby call the game. But, Babyboy is sick; actually, everyone in the entire family is sick, probably with the same URI. We’re all going to stay in our own respective homes, for better germ containment. So I’ve been home alone with both kids for most of the day. The game isn’t on until late, so I pulled out all of these ingredients (all of them long-lasting pantry items), my trusty Cuisinart, gathered the kids, and made these happen.

I knew when I was not only licking the spoon, but also scraping the moist, flavorful crumbs out of the processor and off of the parchment paper, that these would be a hit.

Super-Healthy No-Bake Flourless Chocolate-Coconut Brownies*

A sturdy food processor

8 x 8 baking pan

Parchment paper (or wax paper, as these aren’t going into the oven)

2 1/2 cups pitted dates (you want fresh, soft dates here; do not use little date bits, as they’ll be too hard)

3/4 cup 100% cocoa powder, plus some for dusting, if desired (we used Ghirardelli)

1/2 cup unsweetened baking chocolate, broken into small pieces (we used Ghirardelli)

1 cup unsweetened lightly toasted shredded coconut, divided (we used Bob’s Red Mill) (I think you could substitute slivered almonds or crushed hazelnuts here as well, also lightly toasted)

1/4 cup agave syrup (I think honey or molasses would work as well)

1/4 cup hot water (boiling is good)

1 teaspoon sea salt, divided

Line the baking pan with parchment paper, allowing long overhangs on either side, as you will need to fold these over the batter and cover it entirely. Get out your food processor. Throw in all your dates, cocoa powder, broken chocolate pieces, 3/4 cup of your coconut or other nut, all of your agave syrup or other liquid sweetener, all the hot water, and 1/2 teaspoon sea salt. Process. It will be very thick and heavy and you will need to scrape down the sides several times. Process until you don’t see any date chunks and it appears relatively smooth. Dump it into the parchment-paper lined baking pan. It will be very thick and not easily spread; instead, fold the parchment over it and press down. Press until it is kind of flat and filling the pan to the corners, and then open the paper. Now, sprinkle the remaining coconut (or other nut) and sea salt over the top, and fold the paper over again. Press very firmly; you may want to use another baking pan or other square thing to get the top evenly flat. Put the pan in the fridge for at least 20 minutes. Remove, and pull the entire square out of the pan by the parchment paper. Set down on a flat surface for cutting. Using a large heavy knife, cut into small squares. If saving for later, use wax or parchment paper on the bottom of your tupperware and between layers, as these are very soft and squishy, exactly like undercooked brownies!



I am SO not a food photographer, but I hope this conveys how yummy these are. Perfect for celebrating our team’s win tonight…

*This recipe was inspired by and adapted from Bon Appetit’s recipe for Chocolate Coconut Date Bars (by Dawn Perry, in The New Healthy Issue, 1/15, page 77)

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An Almost Disastrous Trip To The Library

Today was my day “off”, and thus my day on kid drop-off and pickup duty. Despite snowfall and a major traffic issue, I got the kids to their schools, and then I had a few hours to myself.

As usual, this consisted of me running around cramming everything I needed to do for the week into the space of five hours. Animal shelter, gym, bank, dry cleaners, grocery store, then home to log into work and clean out prescription refills, clinical questions, emails. That left just enough time to do some laundry and take a nice shower. Then, I was off to get the kids.

I like to do something fun with them after school, and today, I thought we’d try the library.

Just last week, a friend and I were talking about how much money we spend on books for the kids. We’ve both been reluctant to use the library, because we stress about keeping the books in good condition. My kids, like most three- and four-year-olds, will sometimes draw in books. Or, tear the pages. Or, take a pair of scissors to the pages.

But, as my friend and I chatted, we both expressed that we feel guilty about not using the library more. It’s a lot of money to spend on books that they outgrow so fast.

So this past weekend, the kids and I spent Saturday morning at our local library. There’s a lovely kids’ room: a large and impressively well-stocked, family-safe space. There are not only books and magazines, but also computers, including indestructible touchscreen computers set at teeny desks, with art, music and learning programs- no internet. There’s a puppet theater, couches, and a reading nook. Overall, it’s a pretty cool place.

I also noticed that many of the kids’ books are really beat up, with scrawls here and there, some pages torn. This was a wonderful realization! We weren’t expected to keep the books pristine!

That Saturday morning library adventure was a hit. The dedicated childrens’ librarian spent time helping us find books featuring Curious George, kitties, and, of course, skunks. We left with a pile of books.

So today, when I suggested that we go to the library to drop off those books and pick up new ones, I wasn’t surprised when the kids happily said Okay.

Now, Nana had noted last night that Babyboy was a bit clingy and whiney, but I figured he was tired. He goes to bed too late; they both do. But she thought he might be coming down with something.

And, Babygirl’s had a cough for about a week now. We’ve been doing multiple awakenings a night with her, due to her coughing fits. She’s got a humidifier, we’ve tried steamy baths, menthol chest rubs, drinks with honey, everything you can safely do. But every night, she’s been up. No fevers, and she’s fine during the day. It’s just one of those things. But as a result, she’s been a bit tired as well, and grumpy.

So. We were at the library for about a half and hour, Babygirl drawing on the computer, Babyboy quietly following me around as I picked out some books. There were many more people there than had been on the weekend, mainly school-aged children meeting tutors, and parents doing after-school kid time, like we were.

Suddenly, I heard Babyboy say, “My tummy hurts.”

I looked and he was bent over holding his belly.


“Do you have to use the bathroom?” I asked. Babyboy’s been in potty training again, and doing pretty well.

“Yeah,” he answered softly, and he looked a little pale. Thinking he may be about to throw up, I grabbed his hand and we flew to the family restroom. I fairly tossed my pile of books on a corner of the checkout desk as we ran by. Fortunately, the restroom is right there in the Children’s room.

Unfortunately, we didn’t make it in time, and Babyboy had underpants full of liquid stool.

And very unfortunately, I hadn’t thought to bring a diaper bag.

Very conscious of the fact that my three-year-old was still alone at the computer, I did the only thing I could do. I grabbed reams of toilet paper and cleaned Babyboy up as best I could, and as quickly as I could. Those clothes had to go back on him. Ugh.

I got him dressed and explained that we needed to go home, so he could get in the tubby. We washed our hands like crazy, and hurried back to the computers. I gathered our coats, and told Babygirl that we needed to leave.

“No! I’m not done yet!” howled Babygirl, pushing me and her coat away. I shushed, then quietly coaxed, then ordered her, but she planted herself firmly in that seat and kept drawing.

I leaned forward and whispered in her ear: “Your bother has diarrhea in his pants, and we need to get him home to the tubby. Finish up and put on your coat NOW.”

“No!” She didn’t even look at me.

I was about to just pick her up and carry her out when I heard Babyboy making uncomfortable noises beside me. He was again bent forward, holding his belly.


Rewind and repeat. Same thing. More liquid stool. Another rushed cleanup. But this time, as I was delicately pulling folds of clothes here and there and dabbing with toilet paper in a futile attempt to minimize the mess, I heard Babygirl yelling: “Moommeeeeee! Mommy mommy mommy where are you????”

I had to leave Babyboy, open the bathroom door, and walk aways to where she could see me, then yell back to her “I’ll be right there honey!” Of course, everyone in the place is now looking at her and then at me. What the hell type of parent leaves their little kid alone and out of view in a public place? I’m sure was the general sentiment.

I had to go back into the bathroom and finish “cleaning”. Again we pulled his wet, soiled clothes on. Again we washed our hands like crazy.

And again I tried to get Babygirl to leave. This time, I was more forceful, and this time, she threw a tantrum. A loud, screaming, howling tantrum. “Nooooo mommy I’m NOT going! I’m NOT going! I WANT TO DRAW! AAAAAAAAAH!

I could feel people’s heads turning, hear quiet conversations stopping. Oh goodness.

Big deep breath. I grabbed all the coats, my purse, and Babygirl under one arm, and went to collect Babyboy, who was standing at the checkout counter, chatting with the librarian. He was pointing at the the scanner, asking, “What’s that? What does it do? Can I see?” and she was humoring him. In the process, she had gathered all those books I had tossed on the counter, and had started checking us out.

I felt like we couldn’t leave without the books, so, I had to get out my card. Thus, Babygirl ended up on the floor again, rolling around, face covered in snot and tears, yelling “I’M NOT READY TO GO YET! I’M NOT READY TO GO YET! I WANT TO FINISH MY DRAWING! YAAAAARGGH!!! WAAAAAAH!!!”

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized to the librarian.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she reassured, smiling kindly, totally unfazed, “That’s why we have the Children’s room.”

Books checked, I added those to my load, somehow again hoisting Babygirl up under one arm, she still protesting and howling. We made our way to the front doors.

An elderly woman held the door for us, smiling. Babyboy dawdled, and she stood, smiling and waiting.

“I am so sorry,” I apologized to the lady.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she reassured, smiling kindly, totally unfazed, “I’ve been there, done that.”

She offered to carry our pile of books, and walked with us across the parking lot, in the heavily falling snow. While I continued to wrassle with Babygirl, she stayed close to Babyboy, who was toeing the snow, dragging his feet, admiring his tracks. Once at the car, she placed the books in the front passenger seat for me, waiting on Babyboy’s side until I had Babygirl strapped in and could get over there.

And off we went, to home.

Home. Babygirl got a binky and Curious George, plopped on the couch, finally quiet. Babyboy got his tubby. The clothes went into the washer on “extra-sanitary” setting, which I imagine means really hot water for a really long time. He’s been running a low-grade fever since. Neither of them ate dinner, only sippie cups of warm milk.

But, they happily read all of their new library books before falling asleep.


I’d like to say thank you:

To the librarian who made me feel at ease while my daughter threw a doozy of a tantrum in her space: your matter-of-fact demeanor and reassuring response were better than Benzos. I so appreciate that.

To the woman who held the door, carried our books, and watched over my child, I’m sending you telepathic thanks. You are truly an angel. Praying that you win the lottery this week, because you deserve it.


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A Little (Positive) Postparty Analysis

Babyboy and I had a wonderful time at a children’s birthday party yesterday. It was the first birthday party he’d ever been invited to, except for relatives’ parties. I was a bit nervous beforehand, as I didn’t know these parents very well, and didn’t expect to know anyone else there, either.

Also, the party was at the very exact same time as Hubby’s game, a very big deal football game. Still, I wanted Babyboy to be able to attend the first party he’d ever been invited to, and I was very curious to meet his classmates’ parents. I had explained this dilemma to the birthday mom beforehand, and asked if it was OK that we left early so we could join our family in listening to Daddy’s football broadcast. She had said Of course, that was fine. I figured that was a good sign.

The party was at an indoor children’s play gym, which is basically a big, secure, padded space with low kid-safe climbing equipment, large inflatable toys, and soft gymnastics pads. Kids can run, jump, roll, and even fall, without risk of injury, while parents can  relax and chat.

And while the parental chatter was mostly light and introductory, it also consisted of everyone explaining why their kid is in the special ed/ integrated preschool program, and briefly trading experiences. I hadn’t anticipated what a massive relief this would be. Most of these parents had been through a very similar process to ours: having a kid that was “different”; hearing concern from their doctor or daycare about their kid;  having suspicion for a developmental issue; referral to Early Intervention, to specialists; navigating the school system; wondering what other services or programs might be helpful….

All the while, Babyboy was off doing his own thing, not participating in the Parachute game or Choochoo train game. But, I didn’t need to explain or make excuses for his “different” behavior. And, it was very helpful to learn what others had been through. Everyone lives in our school district, which means, really close by.

Time went by. Even though I knew the big sports event was proceeding and I had no idea what was going on,  both Babyboy and I were comfortable at the party, having a great time, even. We stayed much longer than I had originally planned. Babyboy had two pieces of cake. Promises were made to get in contact, to make play dates, to share more information. By the time we left, I realized that we had missed almost the entire first half of the game, and I didn’t mind at all.

It was a good thing actually, as our team was getting absolutely and shamefully spanked. We made it home in time to see and hear the spectacular second half, where our guys overcame a significant deficit to win what was arguably one of the most riveting playoff games in football history.

Hopefully, we’ll be able to follow through with some of those promises, and Babyboy will also enjoy his very first play date.

Overall, a very lovely party, and a fantastic foot ball game as well….

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