Happy Family-versary (Again!)

I know how most people feel about Tax Day, but it's different for us. It's a happy occasion, because on this date all the way back in 2009 (is really four years ago already? is it really ONLY four years ago?) Shae's adoption was final, and the three of us became HER plus two old dorks lugging all her crap around. Or, in other words: A FAMILY.

We've been having a hell of a time lately, our little family. Growing pains, mostly. A whole bunch of nonsense and foolishness and trying to figure things out. This stuff happens in families. We have our moments when shift schedules and uncertainty and grad school and sleep deprivation and things unnoticed at the time kind of all sneak up on you on roller skates and whomp you over the head and make you PAY GODDAMN ATTENTION.

This, too, shall pass. And in the meantime, we have each other.

I read somewhere that nothing in the world can make a person crazy like a family can. I can't remember who said it -- Dave Barry or Erma Bombeck, probably. The more you love your family, the worse it is. That is not a complaint, really, but a fact of life. You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both. There's a time you've got to go and show you're growing.

I complain sometimes about the problems I have, the guerrilla wars I stupidly throw myself headlong into for lack of anything better to do, but the truth is: I have it good. I have it better than most. I have a husband I love and who loves me, we have a daughter we both adore, and whatever stupid thing we're going through right now, we're going through it together, and we'll come out the other side together, and maybe we'll all be bruised and banged up, but we'll heal. Together.

Happy Family-versary, you guys. I love you. And I promise: someday we'll look back on this and laugh. (We might need a drink or twelve first, but we'll laugh eventually.)

Five Things About Last Night's "Glee" (S3E2)

Sorry it's been so long, but you guys: SO BUSY, and yet so boring at the same time. So let's talk about last night's "Glee" since everybody else is, OK?

#1. West Side Story is one of my favorite musicals ever, and watching the audition process took me back to a place I never, ever thought I'd want to go again: my freshman year of college. I absolutely hated college (most of it, anyway, definitely major chunks of those four years that weren't spent in a classroom), but one of the few things that I actually enjoyed was being a part of the inaugural company of the First Year Players at Syracuse University. We did West Side Story that year, and I played Anybodys, and it was seriously one of the best times I ever had in my life. Even if you include my falling desperately, helplessly in love with two different cast members and having my heart broken many times over because of it. West Side Story is so much fun to do and I am so glad I had the chance to be in that show - the 1961 movie version with Natalie Wood and Rita Moreno remains, to this day, one of my favorite films.

#2. I hope I am not the only person who mentions this on the Internet or in real life today, but even if you used color-blind casting for the William McKinley High School production, there is no way on God's green Earth that Mercedes could ever play Maria. Sure, she has the vocal chops for it, but she is just not the Maria type. And it's not just because she is the "big girl" or the "black girl" - she is just not THAT girl. I'm not entirely certain that Rachel is quite right for the part, either. If I were casting the show using students from WMHS New Directions, Maria would be played by Tina. Kurt would be absolutely THE most fabulous Riff ever, Mike would be Chino, Puck would be Bernardo, Finn would be one of the Jets (one of the ones in the back who doesn't do much dancing), Quinn and Brittany would be Graziela and Velma. In this scenario, Mercedes would be best cast as Anita, although she would have tough competition from Santana. Blaine, of course, would be Tony. I don't know what to do with Rachel, exactly - she's almost too much for West Side Story. She's really more of a Desiree Armfeldt from A Little Night Music (the part that was recently played on Broadway by Catherine Zeta-Jones).

#3. Oh, that whole adoption thing? Makes me think about things that I'm not entirely sure I want to think about. I wonder sometimes if Shae's biological mother ever wants to see her - if she even remembers that Shae exists. And I worry what would happen if that were the case. Knowing what I know about Shae's birth mom, I don't think it's likely that she'll ever want to make contact, but ... what if? Imagine I am Shelby Corcoran in this scenario - am I in any position to make demands? Can I say, "I won't let you see this person that you gave birth to unless you meet my standards of dress/behavior/lifestyle/sobriety"? Certainly I want to prevent my daughter from being exposed to the kinds of things I know she was exposed to as an infant (i.e., REALLY BAD STUFF, let's leave it at that). Our adoption is closed, and right now I don't have any particular interest in letting Shae's biological parents be a part of our lives, for better or for worse. Maybe I am overprotective or overly possessive or living in denial. All of these things are possible, maybe even probable. I shouldn't have to think about this stuff after watching a silly TV show with lots of singing and dancing in it.

#4. "Somewhere" and "Something's Coming" are my two favorite songs from West Side Story, full stop. I could listen to Lea Michele, Idina Menzel, and Darren Criss sing those songs all day, every day, for the rest of my life, and I would die happy. I do wonder if "Glee" is ever going to do the "Tonight Quintet," and if so, how and when, and whether everything is going to tie back to anything happening in the story arcs for the actual characters, and whether they'll switch up any of the voice parts, or whatever. (I can't find a good video of the song to show it in context from the musical, but go watch the movie version - I can't recommend it enough, and you'll know this song when you see it.)

#5. There were supposed to be five things on this list but I ran out of things, so HOORAY FOR "GLEE!" Or not, if you hate "Glee." I won't judge. I hate the Kardashians and the Real Housewives, so it's not like I don't have my own problems.

First Family-versary

Today is our ... well, we didn't really know what to call it, our commemoration of This Special Day, so G and I had this discussion where we tried to figure out what our cutesy little name for today was going to be. Because, like, it's going to be a personal holiday for the rest of our lives, so we need to call it something, right? Basically we decided on "Family-versary," which is vaguely lame, but pretty much right in my wheelhouse, because I am vaguely lame.

(And for the sake of posterity, let me state that by "discussion" and "decided," I actually mean that I suggested the name, and then 10 minutes later when his raid wiped G asked me to repeat it and he said that sounded fine. So, you know, even though it's been a year since our adoption was final, everything is otherwise basically the same as it ever was. Only louder, and with much awesomer hair ...

And, you know, permanently so.)

Which is a very groovy kind of a feeling, if I can be honest. Still. Because I can be all, "Haha suckers, she's ours now, and you can't take her back! Nanny-nanny-boo-boo!" And let's face it: we really did get once-in-a-lifetime lucky with this kid.

Okay, maybe twice in a lifetime, but only once in our lifetime.

Oh Happy Day

Over the weekend, without fanfare but not without notice, we commemorated an important milestone. We went to a party to celebrate someone else, but I was thinking about our special occasion the whole time.

Two years and three days ago, on March 7th, 2008, Shae came to live with us, and we unofficially became a family. Less than two weeks after we first saw our gorgeous girl, we fell face first into parenthood.

Maybe as more time passes, I'll stop remembering these little nothing holidays that hardly even matter: Meeting Day, Welcome Home Day, Adoption Day. But I hope not. They are very important in the Story of Us.

And every time we tick off another one of these special dates, we have a reason to remember how you saved our lives. Thank you, sweet thing. Thank you so very, very much.

Apples and Froot Loops

One last (kind of awkward) holiday-adjacent post and then I think we're done with Christmas. And aren't you glad? I'm finishing up with Christmas with only a month to go before Valentine's Day! Before you know it, it'll be time to start talking Thanksgiving Turkey.

Anyway. In addition to all the gifts from my family, Shae also got gifts from her former foster family. They're really cool that way, remembering her on her birthday and at Christmas, even though she's been with us twice as long now as she was with them. They sent her a Build-A-Dinosaur, which is AWESOME, especially because she is at that age where she is heavily into dinosaurs. She also got something more personal: a set of adorable, hand-me-down winter accessories.

There are two kids in that family, a boy and a girl. These things obviously belonged to the daughter. They came in the mail about a week after Christmas with a nice note, apologizing for the condition since these items were worn and well-loved, but that the daughter really wanted Shae to have them. It wrecked me, tore my heart out and cut it into little pieces.

Our relationship with that family is awkward to say the least, even though it probably shouldn't be -- but I have to admit, until the adoption was final, I was terrified that someone at the agency would review the paperwork, change their minds, and send Shae back with them. It wouldn't happen, of course, because they chose to give her up to another family, to us -- but still, I had nightmares.

And of course I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge that they would have been able to provide her with a very different life than the one we are giving her. Maybe even a better one, even, but definitely different. For one thing, there are other children in the family. They have horses, and they used to have a pool in their backyard. The mom was mostly stay-at-home, and when she wasn't, she was a teacher's aide at the other kids' school. Their home and their life seemed very serene and organized to us, not like the clang and clamor of living with us.

Oh yes, I was jealous of them, more than a little bit, and intimidated -- and also very, very sad. From the very first second that I got to hold Shae in my arms, I knew that it would take nothing short of an Act of God or Congress to separate her from me. My protective maternal instincts, such as they are, kicked in right away. There was no way I would ever give her up, not even if I had to die fighting.

And yet -- this family did. There were special circumstances, as there always are, and they had to make the agonizing choice to help find Shae a "forever family" rather than a temporary foster home while they took care of their personal business. And I know that they did what they did because they wanted to do the best thing for Shae. I understand it. But -- when we visit with them, talk to them, all I can see and hear and feel is their palpable heartbreak at having given up their little girl.

So you can imagine that visiting with them has been awkward, to say the least. Sometimes uncomfortable. We're able to be friendly, and the kids always have a good time together, but I always feel so miserable around them because I'm afraid of ... what, I'm not sure. Judgement, maybe? Although honestly, most of the judgement would come from me -- making unfair comparisons of her life with us against her life with them, when it's really like comparing organic apples and generic Froot Loops. Worlds apart. (They'd win.)

But I do really want to work on having a relationship with this family, because they are very nice people, and also because hopefully one day they will be able to help fill in answers to questions I will be asked. They've actually met Shae's biological mother; by the time we became her foster family, mom had stopped coming to visits. They've met at least one of Shae's biological siblings. Even though their connection to her past is tenuous at best, it is still more of a connection than what we have.

And also: they loved her once, and they love her now. How awesome is that? Shae's been spared a lot of really horrible stuff because of this family's capacity for compassion, kindness, and love. If not for them, and the really hard decision they needed to make, G and I would not have Shae right now. We owe them everything, and they expect nothing. They deserve better than that. And so we keep in touch.

The Other Public Option

Did you know that November is National Adoption Month, "a month set aside to raise awareness about the adoption of children and youth from foster care"? National Adoption Day is November 21st.

We're celebrating this month, in our own little ways. Mostly by running around and being a family and gasping for breath and do you have any idea how fast a 2½ year old is when she's avoiding a nap?

I can't say it enough: becoming foster parents, and eventually adoptive parents, is absolutely, positively, without a doubt the single best thing we've ever done in our lives. Full stop.

The theme of NAM for 2009 is "You don't have to be perfect to be a perfect parent." If ever there was proof of that, go back and read any random blog post of mine from March 2008 through and including the present.

If you know anyone who has considered, even for a minute, becoming a foster or adoptive parent, give them all the encouragement you can. They won't be sorry. Pinky swear.

Resources: AdoptUSKids.org 

Dave Thomas Foundation for Adoption 

Child Welfare Information Gateway

Cupcake Calendar: September

I'll start off by saying this: sorry about the logo in the background. Next year's calendar will be much better, at least as far as removal of trademark symbols is concerned.

This page totally contains a cheat. (Me? Cheat? Take the easy way out of anything? Preposterous! Lies, slander, and libel!) The picture on the left is from September of 2008 -- it was Shae's very first school picture (taken in September but not posted until we finally got them back from Lifetouch) -- but the picture on the right was actually taken in October, at Phil and Kim's wedding.

I hardly recognize this kid anymore. I keep saying that, I know, but I just can't believe how much older, how much more mature, how much more grown up, she looks now. She's not my baby any more; she's my big girl. And I can't deal with that very well, sometimes, without pharmaceutical assistance.

But I also see three other things in these pictures: two fantastically adorable dresses that she only got to wear once each before she outgrew them (especially that little green Laura Ashley number, which my dad picked out), and also a new beginning.

Because somewhere in here, around the time that our court order was approved and we were allowed to take Shae with us to Tennessee, was right around the time when we realized that the end was near. It would be more than six months after these pictures were taken that we would be able to finalize our adoption, but not much longer than that.

Dudley Do-Right

Three times. Three. That's how many times I started this blog post today. I get about a paragraph in and then I change my mind, or reconsider my words, and then I end up all side-tracked and emo and boring and pleh. Nobody really wants to read about my latest existential crisis, least of all me. Trust me, I know.

So here's the thing: I was going to write about how lately I've been wondering if I'm a good parent. Like, our inconsistent rules regarding Shae and when and what and how much television -- are they going to ruin her chances of getting into a good college someday? Do we make a bigger deal than we should about making her eat "people food" for supper instead of peanut butter sandwiches and yogurt? Should we start making her do chores? How bad is it really that I let her watch me playing World of Warcraft? When is the right time to give her an account of her own?

Even though I'm totally crazypants and borderline delusional and more than a little bit self-indulgent, still and all, I worry about whether I am doing a good job, motheringwise. Don't think that I don't know and appreciate that we were given an absolute once-in-a-lifetime opportunity with this kid, in the truest sense of the phrase. I love her more than life, more than anything, more than the moon, and I want to do right by her.

And then I look through the eleventy jillion pictures on my hard drive, and I see how many of them show her smiling and happy and all-around awesome, and I realize something: maybe God really does trust and believe in me, after all.

Just Like Starting Over

I wish there were words in the English language to describe what we are feeling right now; if such words exist, I don't know what they are. "Elated" doesn't quite say everything, nor does "relieved," and although "phlegmy" is technically accurate, it's not directly related to the adoption. Perhaps there is a turn of phrase in another language that suits the complexity and scope of emotions surrounding us, like "schadenfreude" but without the bitterness.

For now it will have to be enough to say that it is done. Finally, it is done. Our adoption journey has been a lot less complicated and a lot less fraught with drama than most, I am sure, but that does not make the end result any less rewarding to us. Truth be told, our transformation from "couple" to "family" has taken us the better part of five years, but none of that matters now -- all that matters is yesterday, and today, and all of our tomorrows.

At the risk of sounding like an Oscar® speech, we owe a lot of people a lot of thanks. To everyone who was there with us yesterday, both in person and in spirit -- thank you for taking the time out of your day to share in such an important moment in our lives. Thank you for encouraging us, and believing in us, and opening your hearts to a tiny, beautiful stranger whom you made a part of your lives as if she were part of yourselves from the beginning.

To everyone else -- thank you for being so supportive all along. We are sorry you couldn't be there in the courtroom when the pronouncement was made, because unfortunately you missed out on excellent future blackmail opportunities when I forgot my own name for a minute, and G forgot how old he was. When the shock and awe have faded, we will be laughing about that for a long time to come.

Hopefully, this will be my last unfunny post about the Cupcake for a while. God willing. In fact, although we will still continue to call her Cupcake at home, because she remains our sweet and delicious little thing, I think this will be the last post in which I refer to her as Cupcake here, because as of yesterday, as we were all previously promised, her name has changed, and she is now officially, legally, irrevocably our Shae. And not a moment too soon.

Wacky Wednesday

The thing I fear most in the world this week is dying in a horrendous car crash, the kind with sparks and fires and explosions, where they need to send in the Jaws of Life to extract my mangled corpse from underneath the chassis of a giant 18-wheeler, and when the EMT's examine me they make The Face, all sad and pitiful, because they discover that I have been cursed to spend all of my afterlife in an outfit where all the components don't match because I neglected that morning to coordinate my ponytail holder with my top with my bra with my pants with my underwear with my socks with my shoes.

Because, listen: I'm going to Hell anyway, and I can handle the gamblers and the drunks and the fornicators -- who knows, that might even be kind of fun -- but I don't want to spend eternity with the Fashion Victims, the inappropriately accessorized, the godless hussies who left the house with VPL and their bra straps showing and who wore white shoes after Labor Day.

It's a running gag at work and at home, but I am a human Garanimal. As much as possible, I try to arrange my outfit for the next day before I go to bed, so I have time to do a quick load of socks or underwear if necessary. You know, so I have just the right match. And even if I ever go mysteriously colorblind, I'd still be able to match stuff, because I coordinate down to the pattern on my hosiery. It's a sickness, no doubt.

Which is why it pains me to my core when we have "Wacky Wednesdays" at school, and I have to send Cupcake out into public wearing something like this:

... it makes me want to crawl in a hole and die. Who does that to a child? That is so wrong. Do day cares not believe in the Constitution? Because that is definitely cruel and unusual punishment. Inflicted upon her by her very own mother.

I mean, she totally rocks that shirt from the Nashville Zoo (hello to Johnny Bacon and Co., in lovely Union City, TN!). And those Winnie-the-Pooh Croc loaferlets? Adorable. The leggings were bought special just for Wacky Wednesday, AND they were only $3.50, so I can't even complain about them, but ... isn't it a little much? The green barette just about gave me a stroke, even though I put it there.

On the other hand: individually, each of those pieces is awesome. And she? Totally does not care. Perhaps Mommy needs a drink.

Three Little Words

A word of warning: this may be (almost definitely is) one of my gooshier posts. I tried writing this already with snark, but I just can't make it happen. It is what it is, the heart wants what it wants, etc.

To be honest, just thinking about everything that happened yesterday makes me well up. Not a super-big deal: we went to the County Government Center to sign paperwork to proceed with the adoption. Every family who adopts out of foster care must do something similar at some point.

It is routine paperwork. A lot of "acknowledge"s and "recognize"s and "agree"s and "certify"s and "we the undersigned"s blah-blah-blah-biddy-blah. Sign your name here and here and down there, date, initial, space for notary stamps, in triplicate. Legalese and esquirespeak.

And in the middle of the first paragraph on the second page, this ...

... made me lose my flippin' mind. I tried very hard to hold it together, but I'm not sure that I did. Maybe. I don't think I cried out loud in that conference room, but I sure got some looks.

Seeing our daughter's name, or rather her name-to-be, right there in black and white? Unbelievably overwhelming. Throughout this process, she has been referred to by names given by other people -- her birth mother, her previous foster family.

But this name? This one came from us, and on that document, it was the first time I had ever seen it in print, officially, on a piece of paper that mattered. Our Cupcake, our boo-boo kitty, will soon have a new name, and it is ours.

Even when I look at it now, I feel a lot of things, so many things, so quickly and suddenly that my breath catches. I picture the new birth certificate, and adoption notices, and graduation announcements, and wedding invitations and then the room starts spinning.

It's a simple thing, I guess, to see your kid's name in print, but when you've tried so hard and waited so long and you know the end is near ... well, those seventeen letters up there? They make up the most beautiful three little words that I have ever seen.

Holding Pattern

Yesterday was an anniversary for us -- one year ago, Cupcake came to live with us. We treated it like any other lazy Saturday, but I think that G and I were both thinking about what a big damn deal it was, and whether we should do something, or what.

Turns out we didn't do anything special, unless you count reformatting my hard drive for eight hours and then spending half the night trying to get my digital life back together as "something special," which I don't. Especially because I am still trying to find stuff.

We also kind of didn't know what to do, mostly because we didn't know what to do. We don't know any other foster parents, so it's not like we could call anybody up and say, "Hey, how do you commemorate the day that your kid sorta-kinda became your kid, but not really, exactly?"

Also: I tried to make a movie, a look back on the past year in pictures, and that sort of crashed my entire computer, which is part of what caused the eternal reformat from hell, and by the time everything was restored I didn't feel like it any more.

But I wanted to mention it, because yesterday was kind of meaningful, even if it only made us both more aware of all the ridiculous demands we need to meet and flaming hoops we need to jump through before our "daughter" officially becomes our Daughter.

PS -- Pictures are safe. So, yay for that!

Indentical Cousins

Maybe it's just me, but I kind of think that Joey & Cupcake have the same nose, especially in this picture (which was hand-picked by G, by the way, so don't blame me, even though it is sort of not-so-secretly awesome that my kid is a total honest-to-goodness Mini-Me):

Also ... Joey makes the same faces as my sister. Just sayin'.

Pennies from Heaven

There are two mugs full of pennies on my desk at work. Last March, when we found out that Cupcake was going to be coming to live with us, I started putting all the pennies from my wallet in a paper cup. When that got too heavy, I switched them over to a mug. When the first mug got full, I started another one. The second mug is now almost full. I figure I have at least $5.00 in change in those mugs, maybe more.

It's kind of ridiculous to be a 30-something professional type with cups full of loose change on her desk, but I did it for Cupcake -- it has always been my plan to eventually convert these coins into dollars, and open a savings account for her when the adoption was completed. I jokingly refer to this as "the college fund," but it's kind of what it is. It's also a reminder of how long we've waited, how much we've done, and how much we've still yet to do, before the process is over.

Fill one mug, start filling another. Hit one target, aim for the next. Live in the now, plan for the future. Well, the future is soon: on April 15th, if all goes according to plan, G and I will be able to open a savings account for our new dependent. And, ironically, Tax Day will become my new favoritest day of the year.

Into White

Look, I'm not going to lie to you -- I hate winter. Hate. Sure, I spent four horrible miserable freezing winters in Syracuse back in the day and developed a +25 frost resistance and a bizarre appreciation for the smell of snow in the air, but that doesn't mean I ever liked the cold. Or the perpetual lake-effect precipitation. Or the landscape that was all done up in shades of beige and gray.

I'm tired of this weather, and yesterday's white-out right about killed me dead, honestly. Maybe it's because we just got back from one of the loveliest places on Earth, or maybe it's because I've been thinking about starting some seeds, or maybe it's because I can't find my Timberlands and I no longer fit into all that grunge-era flannel, or maybe it's because there are only two weeks left until spring, dammit, and I want to be done with winter already!

So, yes, perhaps we are having some seasonal affective issues again. Perhaps we are having trouble remembering that when "Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?" Perhaps this is because it's hard to find any four-leaf clovers when the entire yard is buried under 6 inches of bright white misery.

Or perhaps, perhaps, we just need a little change in perspective.

And maybe a snowsuit.

Vacation Recap: Day 4 (Saturday)

Urgh. As I am writing this recap of our final day of our vacation, I'm sitting at home with the Cupcake having a snow day, and I'm reminded all over again about why Day 4 of our vacation sucked eleventy kinds of ass: bad weather. Not in Florida, of course -- there is no such thing as bad weather in Florida at this time of year, as I understand it. But everywhere else, apparently, there was horrible weather of biblical proportions, according to the airline people.

That marvelous misadventure will come in due time, though. First, we'll spend our last few hours in Key West at the beach:

This is what I imagined our entire vacation was going to look like -- sun, sand, surf, seagulls, against a background of palm trees and pastel hotels. I'm actually glad it wasn't all like this, because while that is fun in its way, now that we have a toddler, we need something to keep her entertained. And she found these birdies highly amusing, if a bit frustrating. I think she's still mad because she couldn't bring one of these home with her. (She doesn't yet understand that these are the same birds that hang out in the local Wal-Mart parking lot.)

The last time I was on the gulf coast of Florida, I was in 10th grade. My parents and my sisters and I drove down to Florida with my "aunt" Kim and her husband and their two kids (this was before their daughter was born, and she's a senior in high school now, so I am suddenly feeling very very old). Between 3-day stints at Disney World, we stayed at a condo on Marco Island. I don't remember very much about the trip except that one of my sisters had a broken ankle and we saw dolphins.

I know for sure that I don't think the Gulf of Mexico was ever as lovely as it was on this particular occasion:

The we drove 4 hours back to the Fort Lauderdale airport, where we waited for a hundred thousand years to get on the plane back home. Our return flight was supposed to leave at 6:45pm, but it was delayed due to bad weather in Chicago. (Yeah, I don't entirely get it either.) But suffice it to say that we didn't get on the plane to come home until after 11pm. We got in very early the following morning, and then we saw my sister and Joey and Cupcake tried to eat my nephew because he is delicious, the end.

Vacation Recap: Day 3 (Friday)

You know what? I think it's taking me longer to write these recaps than it took me to actually be on vacation. Which sounds a lot grouchier than intended, but it's the truth: I really do talk too damn much. Not really sorry, it's just who I am, but ... I'm tired. Apologies. It's the weather. It's gross today, and it's all damp and yucky and I feel pleh. Wish I were back in Florida.

Sigh. Anyway. On the Friday of our vacation, it was too cold to go swimming -- only 68ºF -- so we went sightseeing. Cupcake was a total trooper, even though she had absolutely no idea what was going on. See? This conch shell horn is as big as her whole head:

Key West has a really charming aquarium, even if it is a little on the small side. It was built by the WPA back in the 30's, when Key West went practically overnight from being one of the richest cities in America per capita to being one of the poorest. The designer of the building also designed parts of Fairmount Park in Philadelphia, if I remember correctly. Could be wrong, though; I was in the tropics.

This is not a real marlin, as you can probably tell. Fiberglass, I think. There were a bunch of tchotchkes on the wall that gave the place a TGI-Friday's-meets-Old-Man-and-the-Sea-for-margaritas kind of feel. Some of the details of the place really stood out, though, like the tile work on the touch tank. Definitely check it out.

When you get out of the aquarium you end up right outside the Shell Market, which is a giant open mall-like thing with chickens in it, and if you walk through it, you end up in Mallory Square, which is apparently very Old and Historic, judging from the public restrooms. Lots of chickens here, and people fresh off the boat -- literally, as the cruise ships dock at Mallory Square. Every day they have sunset celebrations there. We didn't see any this time, but they sure sound like fun.

(Incidentally, this is one of my favorite pictures from the entire trip. Not really sure why, but I think it's the light and the look on Cupcake's face. This was taken right around noon, and the day really was just about perfect -- not too hot, not too cool, not too boring, not too busy, and at this point we have not passed the Point of No Return regarding naptime or lunchtime. YET. We'd get there about half an hour after this picture was taken.)

After lunch Cupcake wanted to ride on the "choo-choo" but we took the trolley instead because the friendly ticket lady told us that the train did not stop at the Southernmost Point Buoy. I think it's pretty much a rule that you have to go to the Southernmost Point Buoy when you visit Key West. We didn't really have an itinerary this time, but this was the one thing I wanted to do while we were in Florida. It was a lovely trolley ride, and two minutes after we got on Cupcake fell asleep.

We spent the rest of the day trying to take a nap (hahaha, complete failure) and eating dinner at Quizno's, because that's how we rolled. For the third night in a row, G and I fell asleep before 9pm. Bliss.

Vacation Recap: Day 2 (Thursday)

So, as I previously mentioned, my husband forgot to pack a bathing suit for our trip to Florida, where there are pools and beaches and etc. Hahaha. So in order to do what we really wanted to do on our vacation, we had to go get G some trunks. Because, listen: I love the Cupcake, don't get me wrong, but that kid wears my ass out. I can't handle her in the pool by myself, and since she had never seen the ocean before, I had no idea what to expect. This adventure was going to require the ol' double-barrel shotgun of parental supervision. Or something.

We had breakfast first, of course, because isn't that why people go on vacation in the first place? So they can eat at the IHOP on a Thursday morning with impunity? That's what I go for. (That, and the margaritas.) For the record, I split a plate of French toast and bacon with Cupcake, and somewhere on this trip she learned how to "dip" her food in syrup and now we can't get her to eat pancakes, waffles, or French toast without also providing her a side dollop of syrup. I blame my husband for that.

In the parking lot of the IHOP -- which, by the way, love the food, but our service there was terrible, and the waitress was absolutely one of the nastiest, laziest people that you could ever possibly imagine working in a customer-service-oriented position, but I believe in Tipping Karma, so we were decent even though she got part of our order wrong, and ... that's all I have to say about that -- in the parking lot, we saw a feral chicken with a couple of feral chicklets, and it was the weirdest and coolest thing ever. Someone told me about the chickens before we left, and I kind of laughed but didn't believe him. It's true, though: there are, like, gangs of wild chickens running around all over Key West. Gorgeous tropical colors. It's trippy.

We drove downtown, where there is a Ron Jon Surf Shop, which I mention by name only because there are no actual waves on the beaches of Key West. I have genuine photographic evidence. Not sure how many surfers they actually get in those parts -- maybe people surf over from Cuba?

NOTE TO POTENTIAL TRAVELLERS TO KEY WEST: You can probably park somewhere near your hotel and take the trolley into Old Town to do your shopping and stuff, unless you're okay with paying $15 to park for three hours (or $20 for all day). I kind of think that's a lot, but then again, the trolley was $29 per person, so if you're only going to be in the Duval Street metroplex for a little while, it's really not a bad deal to drive. Parking can be scarce, so be prepared to walk. Although you can take lots of breaks and stuff, because every other building is a bar or a tchotchke shop. And there are plenty of pie shops and ice cream stands:

Or, in our case, frozen custard. But still. (I kind of secretly prefer frozen custard, anyway.)

Bathing suit and souvenirs acquired, we headed back to the hotel to slip into something more comfortable and get with the getting. Cupcake kept hollering "POOOOOOOL!" so we know where she wanted to go first:

I wanted to get the palm trees in the background to prove that this picture isn't a fake or a shop-job, so I got right into the water with the camera. (That's also how I took yesterday's video.) It's swimming, so you already know how that's going to turn out. You can't really see her bathing suit here, but it's new, and it's really cute. +1.

Anyway, blahblahblah I talk too freaking much, here is what it looked like when Cupcake saw the ocean for the first time:

Of course this picture was taken before she decided that it would be fun to do a Super-Mario-Brothers-style butt-stomp right into the water with her little cover-up on. That was cute, too, but also very wet.

ANOTHER NOTE FOR TRAVELERS: By god, Crocs are some of the ugliest shoes in the world, seriously, but they travel fantastically well and are great for just about every practical application. And after you've been tromping up and down Duval Street, you can just wear them right into the Gulf of Mexico to clean them off.

After the ocean we took a nap, which is pretty much what you would expect, but I include this picture anyway because that is a real, honest, un-self-conscious smile, and also, look at that hair!:

And then we went to Benihana for dinner and Cupcake ate everything we put in front of her, including the lemon wedges that came on the edges of our glasses:

Chicken fried rice -- nom! Then we went to bed. Because we were tired, man. Being cute and having fun is exhausting, yo. And we needed to rest up before we took our trip to the End of the World ... or at least the End of the Island.

Diversionary Tactic

Um, yeah. There was supposed to be recap here of Vacationgate 2009: Day Two, but I just don't feel like it right now. Too many words, too little time, too many damn forms and papers and things that I need to find and sign and have notarized before we can go to court and just adopt this kid already, oh my gah. Plus, it appears that I have not had enough caffeine or something. So, here. Watch this video! OK? Thanks! I'll be back tomorrow. Pinky swears. I already uploaded the pictures to Flickr and everything ...

Vacation Recap: Day 1 (Wednesday)

If you are primarily interested in the short-short version of this recap, which will be at least four parts in total, then let me tell you this: We had a good time, and then we came home. If you would like more details but don't want to read all these stinkin' words, then allow me to refer you to my Twitter feed, where I pretty much live-tweeted my vacation, because I am a giant dork who sold her soul to Apple in exchange for a VERY COOL TOY. In my defense, though, said VERY COOL TOY also provides DIRECTIONS, which is more than I can say for my husband most of the time. Whatever. I ♥ my iPhone. So sue me.

Anyway.

Before I get to the good stuff, I will tell you this much: although scheduling a flight with a toddler at 6:55 in the morning is not the absolute dumbest thing I have done as a parent, it is right up there. G and I got up at 3:30 AM, after not sleeping well the night before -- can't speak for him, but I can never sleep the night before vacation. Never could. I get too excited. At least we attempted to compensate by staying up late Monday so we could go to bed early on Tuesday. It didn't work out perfectly, but it wasn't a complete disaster.

We got Cupcake up at 4:30 AM, and headed out the door at 4:45 AM. Our plan was for her to sleep in the car. Nope. She saw the moon out the window, and that was the end of it. "Moon, Mommy!" "Daddy, truck!" Singing and dancing and clapping along to the radio. Cupcake is relentlessly cheerful, even at the asscrack of dawn. It would be completely obnoxious if she weren't so damned cute.

Due to the fact that G and I are practically never on time for anything, ever, no matter how well we try to plan, we got to the economy parking lot at 5:30 AM, and just missed a bus to the terminal. Fortunately Philly's airport buses run pretty often, so we made it to the terminal and to the TSA checkpoint by 6:00 or so. Somehow, we managed to schlep one suitcase, one toddler backpack, a car seat, a diaper bag, and two extra "junk" bags, plus all our coats and shoes and a sippy cup, through security in time. We made it to our gate literally just as the end of Group A was boarding.

NOTE TO SELF: ALWAYS LEAVE THE HOUSE AN HOUR EARLIER THAN YOU THINK YOU NEED TO FOR A FLIGHT. WHY DO YOU DO THIS EVERY SINGLE TIME? ARE YOU NEW? WERE YOU DROPPED ON YOUR HEAD AS A CHILD? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

The flight was mostly uneventful. G entertained the baby, and I watched "Gossip Girl" clips on my iPod. (Did you know Ed Westwick, who plays Chuck Bass, is British? I did not. He is much sexier when he talks in his real accent.) Cupcake ate one fruit-and-cereal bar, one lunch pack of mini Fig Newtons, and one fruit snack bar that tastes like a Fruit Roll Up all squooshed together and eaten in one bite, only this brand was allegedly made with real fruit. I only snuck a teensy bite. You know, for quality assurance purposes.

So we get to Fort Lauderdale. Change Cupcake out of her pajamas and into shorts and her "Little Miss Sunshine" sweatshirt that I got at Target for $4. Four bucks for a jacket! I ♥ Target. While G is getting the rental car, I finally comb Cupcake's hair. Did you know that 2½ hours on an airplane + heat + humidity = GIANT BABY AFRO? Now you do. Her hair had its own gravity for a while. It was pretty phenomenal. And then ...

Yeah, we let Cupcake drive, and it turns into a TMZ photo op. Whatever. At least she kept her pants on, which is more than I can say for Paris Hilton or Britney Spears or Lindsey Lohan. We booked her for DWA: driving while adorable. Sentence: extra cookies and snuggles and 3½ hours in the car seat while we drive to the Keys.

Almost done, pinky swears, because let me tell you -- it's a lovely drive from Fort Lauderdale to the Keys, and easy, but looooooooooooooooooong. 190 miles or so, and a lot of it is on Route 1, which has stoplights and stuff. It's kind of a "fast long drive," if you know what I mean. I spent the entire time admiring the water and the busted-up broken-down bridges and the copious amounts of pelican poop. Once you get to Key Largo, you are surrounded by the water and you can smell the salt spray and hear the gulls and watch all the little old men fishing off of ancient bridges, and isn't that what vacation is supposed to be about?

So: Wednesday was a travel day. We got to our hotel, waited to check in, checked in, went to Denny's for dinner, went to bed, the end. And I loved every boring minute, even the point at which G realized that he didn't pack a bathing suit. To go on vacation. At the beach. Hahaha. No, I am not kidding.