Sunday, September 29, 2013

The Average Vacation, Part 2

So, I left off with my son pooping his pants in Chickfila, then passing out as soon as he was put in his car seat. The adventure didn't stop there. It never does.

Once I'd recovered from my hysterics, I pulled out of the parking lot and my GPS immediately led me the wrong direction. And so begins our 3 hour journey.

Hour 1: RHM was still asleep this hour, so it was a fairly uneventful one. I was able to listen to some new CDs and "relax" some.

Hour 2: RHM woke up, so we stopped at a gas station for a potty break. This gas station was literally the most disgusting station I'd ever been to. Now, let me back up and say that I originally exited at this location because I saw a big Exxon sign that looked new and shiny. Once I and several other cars exited, we all realized that it looked so new and shiny because it was new. Brand new. So new, the building wasn't even completed yet. So, we were forced to pull into the reject gas station across the street that will obviously go out of business once the Exxon opens. Now, RHM doesn't like going to the restroom unless it is HIS idea, so each bathroom break on this trip took tons of coaxing, bribing, and, in some cases, threatening. In this particular instance, the offer of Iron Man fruit snacks did the trick. We get into the bathroom and it literally looks like the scene from a horror movie. Especially if that horror movie had the title, Germs: The Takeover. I reluctantly took RHM into one of the stalls and after several cries of "Don't touch that!" "Definitely don't touch that!" "WHY are you on the floor??" and "Don't even think about licking that door!" we made it out alive. We both practically bathed in hand sanitizer, got in the car, and continued on our way.

Hour 3: RHM was content listening to music and the world was at peace. There's a section of this journey that doesn't have any gas stations for about 60 miles. I have almost run out of gas there in the past. So, once we reached the "This is the last gas station for a really long time" sign, we stopped to fill up on gas and take a potty break. When we got back into the car, things went well for a few miles. Then, this big, black SUV zoomed in out of nowhere and pretty much attached itself to my bumper. Now, I was going about 5 over the speed limit, so obviously, this was super annoying. There was a car in the left lane that wasn't going fast enough for this SUV, either, so he rode my ass for the next 10 miles. Finally, I started getting cheeky. I pumped my brakes, reduced my speed, and made cranky comments under my breath. You know, typical passive aggressive road rage techniques. Finally, the car in the left lane got tired of Black SUV's shit and sped up and changed lanes so that he could pass us. As he's passing, I planned to give him a dirty look, maybe flip him the bird...whatever. But I noticed that the SUV was an Escalade. With huge spinning rims. And plates from Mexico. HOLY SHIT, I JUST PASSIVELY AGGRESSIVELY ROAD RAGED ON THE MEXICAN CARTEL. So, naturally, I played clueless as they passed and pretended to be rocking out to my music. Whew.

Finally, we arrived at our destination. But not before almost wrecking because of my shock of seeing this:

WHY would they still leave this up? To give people heart attacks?

 This gas station has obviously been closed for years.

The rest of the vacation went pretty well. We visited my dear friend and RHM only intentionally pissed on her floor once. She took us to the beach where our umbrella WOULD NOT stay in the ground, I chased RHM for 10 minutes trying to get a family picture and failed, and I left looking like a half albino lobster. I seriously need to start asking for help when applying sunscreen. There were literally hand prints on my back.

One of my favorite parts of this vacation was the night before we left, my friend wanted to make us dinner, but we needed to get the ingredients at the store first. RHM was watching Bubble Guppies (gag) and when I told him that we were leaving, he flat out refused. Being the clever mother of a two year old that I am, I told him that it could be pirate mission and we could go look for treasure. He's obsessed with pirates, so he obviously bought it. When we got to the store, he didn't want to sit in the basket, so I convinced him that the basket was really a pirate ship and that was a huge hit. He told me that his pirate name was Captain Sea-Dog and tried to slip candy into the basket several different times. I was totally into it. Probably more than Captain Sea-Dog.

Tia's dinner was AWESOME, by the way

The next day, we made the trip back home. The drive was fairly uneventful, just more potty stops and bribes of Iron Man fruit snacks. We stopped at SeaWorld before we went home and RHM spent at least an hour running through the shark aquarium. I was totally down with that.

All in all, a good vacation. I'm ready for another one. Here are some pictures from the trip! Follow my shenanigans on Instagram for real time scoop on my next adventure: @theavgperson

The view from the Port Isabel Lighthouse

Awkward family photo

I ran around the beach for 10 minutes for THIS?


The Average Person

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Conversations with a Mini-Human

So, I was out eating lunch with RHM today when a pretty, blonde teenager walked in the door. RHM watched her for a few minutes, then looked at me and said:

RHM: Okay, that's my mom.

AP: Uhhh, no. I'm your mom.

RHM: No, you're AP. That's my mom.

I'll have to keep an eye on this one. Two years old and he's already trying to go home with pretty women.


The Average Person (AP)

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

The Average Vacation, Part 1

Over Labor Day, I took RHM on a mini-vacation.

That sounds like fun, right? A breeze, even? Let me add another element: potty training.

That's right! I'm potty training RHM and, for the most part, he's doing fantastic, but the week before we left, he started regressing somewhat. I could have just stuck him in a pull up for the duration of our getaway and made my life 110 times easier, but I didn't. I'm determined to make this thing stick. So, I packed up RHM's entire wardrobe of pants and big boy undies and we hit the road.

First stop? The Children's Museum. For this leg of the trip, RHM donned his Mini-Thor persona and heroically peed his pants within five minutes of entering the building.

Wardrobe change #1.

Mini-Thor conquers the world with his Viking ship.

Mini-Thor explored and played at 100 miles per hour.

I shall milk this cow, then I shall go play with bubbles..
Wardrobe changes #2 and 3.

He created masterpieces in the art room, visited Mexico, and played with bubbles. We also adopted a small toddler who appeared to have Down's Syndrome for a good part of our visit. I mean, seriously, where were this kid's parents?!
Odin's beard! Tamales!
Wardrobe change #4.

Whelp. I only brought 4 changes of pants to the museum and the choices were:

1. To trek at least 4 miles to the car to get more out of RHM's suitcase
2.  Head off to the next part of our journey.

Despite RHM's screams as I dragged him out of the museum, I chose the latter. Oh, and we finally met up with our adopted toddler's group - a daycare visiting the museum that didn't even know he was gone. How terrifying. Oh well, happy ending there.

RHM got some fresh drawers and we decided to stop at Chickfila before we started the 3 hour drive towards our next leg. Our Chickfila visit was uneventful. And by "uneventful" I mean "complete catastrophe/totally traumatic." RHM and I ate our meal without issue and then he asked if he could play in the playplace. I'm thinking, "Okay, we've got a 3 hour drive ahead of us. If I let him exert all his energy now, MAYBE he'll sleep through most of it." So, I said, "Cool."

RHM played in the playplace for about 20 minutes while I sat behind the glass watching him and making witty remarks to all the other moms hoping their kids pass out after stuffing their faces with chicken and playing until they're pooped.

Now, it's ironic that I used that phrase because at the exact minute in went through my head, a small boy tugged on my sleeve and whispered, "Miss, your son smells like poop." I snap my head up and see RHM's devilish grin and the Beginning of the End trickling down his leg. Oh god. I'm the mother of the child who SHITS HIS PANTS in the Chickfila playplace.

I have never moved as fast as I did in that moment. I scooped RHM up and ran to the bathroom, with him screaming every step of the way because he wasn't done playing. Once in the bathroom, my suspicion was confirmed: diarrhea. Diarrhea everywhere. I ended up just chunking his pants and underwear, cleaned him up, put on a new set of clothes and walk of shamed it through the restaurant to the car. RHM still screaming.

Almost as soon as he was buckled in his seat, RHM passed out. And me? I just started laughing hysterically. There's just one more story to tell his first girlfriend.

To be continued...


The Average Person

P.S. Enjoy my pictures? Follow my shenanigans on Instagram: @theavgperson

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Conversations with a Mini-Human

RHM: Sing Twinkle, Twinkle Itty Star.

AP: YOU sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star

RHM: Okay! *sings* Twinkle, twinkle, itty star, now I know my ABCs.

AP: ....basically.


The Average Person (AP)