Welcome to Miami

Did you guys know that there's a show called Paris Hilton: My New BFF, and I haven't been watching it! What has my life turned into?

But that's not what I came here for. This past weekend I headed down to Miami for a weekend without my children. It was a novel event. Although, little do they know, it's the start of a trend because I also have a trip without them planned for both December and January. This weekend, in theory, was for a serious family event, however, if you know my family, it was pretty much anything but.

For starters, that lovely photo above was taken off my cousin's boat. It's a gorgeous view isn't it? The weekend was unexpected. I arrived a little late on Friday to a house full of people at my parents' place. I stayed up too late talking to my parents and then, all because of a five minute nap on the plane, I couldn't sleep (um, remind you of a daughter of mine?). Which would have been fine except my eight-month-old cousin woke me up in the pre-7 a.m. hour the next morning. Now, don't get me wrong. This cousin is incredibly cute, very well behaved, and exceedingly quiet for a baby. But you know how it is. Once you have a kid, you're programmed. The slightest baby noise and you're up, calling, "What! What! Bottle? Diaper? Potty? Bad dream? What??" And then you're up. I swear, I felt bad for my other cousin, the eight-month-old's mother, because I've somehow reverted to single gal in babyhood terms. I took the baby, and pretty much felt like I was holding her at arm's length, like, "Cute baby. What do I do with you again?" Those early years have been erased from my mind. I seriously didn't know what to do! Yes, my child-bearing years are done. The family is complete. Done. Finis.

Saturday though was a whirlwind. My favorite cafe con leches and Cuban toast. A pedicure. A ride on the Triple Play (and here comes the inevitalbe shout out to B., her freakishly smart daughter, H., and her always charming mother, C. Hi guys! It was fun!).

The next night I was up way too late because I spent the night at my cousin's house and he's building a new house around the corner, and of course I needed a tour. And then we got up at 4:50 the next morning to run a half marathon. (My cousin is running his first marathon with me in January. I called him and said, "We should do a long run while I'm home." He said, "I can't, I'm doing a half." So I signed on! He did amazing for a first half. Really pushed himself. Wait till he sees what I make him do at the marathon!) Family function. Family drama. Trip to the airport. Make my way home to my claustrophobic little apartment.

And what did I come home to? I came home to kids who were clearly happy to see me (or perhaps it was the Epicure cookies I brought home for them). But the euphoria was short--very short--lived. I stayed up waaaay too late in order to spend time with Adam--I got back to the apartment at 10 p.m. and he had to leave at 6 a.m. for an almost-week-long trip to L.A. and there was oh-so-much to catch him up on. So I'm exhausted but at 5:42 a.m. I hear, "Mommy, you're back! How was your trip? I got a flashlight. Daddy, Doodles, and I walked to Trader Joe's and I got to use my flashlight. It's green. That's your favorite color! I want breakfast. Where's Daddy? Is he at the gym or is he on his trip? The clock? It says thirteen hundred o'clock. Did you bring me something? I went to a movie, and I got glasses! The astronaut scared me but I laughed when he broke the glass and..."

I get the kids up and fed and clothed with little trouble. Pie is definitely in a volatile stage--so much so that after nearly a year, she's sent me back to the parenting books--and I made it to Doodles's school on time. Pie and I went back to check on the house. Progress is amazing. Shingles going up on the family room roof, electricians doing their thang, things are just falling into place. Only Pie tells me she has to go to the bathroom. I run her to her preschool, and magically, she no longer has to go. Hmmm. She didn't go all morning. Of course, she doesn't want to enter her preschool, so I end up slinging her under my arm, a la a football hold, and carry her in screaming. But I make it out with nary a scratch.

I head home to do a little Nano-ing. A note on the Nano. As you can see by my word count, I'm woefully behind. But I'm psyched to say that I'm making steady progress on my novel (doing editing as I go, which is verboten in Nano world), and I'm feeling good about it. So no, I won't hit 50,000 words, but I just might finish this damn thing! Anyway, a smidgen of Nano and then off to volunteer at Doodles's school. I started out in the cafeteria at kindergarten lunch. Um, do you guys remember your kindergarten lunch? As far as I remember, it was sink or swim. Not anymore. For starters, kindergarten, first, and second graders are not allowed (plastic) knives. Today was pancake day. So my job was to go around and cut pancakes for kids. Seriously! I also opened milks, peeled clementines, and told kids to get their butts back into their seats. I also spent five minutes consoling my son when it was time for me to leave. He was happy to see that I was there, and pretty much ignored me. But toward the end, he got the rubby eyes and the teary frowns and then the clinging for dear life to my arm. Eventually the teacher's aide was able to release me, but it's a terrible way to leave your child. Thank goodness I had to pass by the room later, and I saw him very happily building a habitat out of blocks with friends. Otherwise, the guilt would have stayed with me all day.

And then I went to pick up Pie. Pie Pie. Potty-trained Pie. Potty-trained Pie who was wearing the school's pants because she had not one, but two pee accidents at school today. And did she care? No. She was just happy because Jasmine's mom told her she could wear Jasmine's sandals (someone was shoeless because she peed all over her shoes) so we didn't have to go straight home after school. Oy.

So now, I should be sleeping. I should crawl into bed because tomorrow is all Pie all the time and I know she'll be up at 5:42 a.m., I'm instead telling you about my life. Actually, I'm not crawling into bed because of the five (yes five) cups of coffee I had today. But let's pretend it's because of you. Somehow that just makes it all a little better.