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Random blog note: Since I always type Cate’s name on this blog as Cate, but I almost never actually call her that in real life, henceforth I’ll be typing her name as Catie, since that’s the name she responds to, and how she refers to herself. Really, the only time I ever call her Cate is when it’s prefaced by Baby – because Baby Cate sounds like “babycakes,” and I think that’s sort of a cute nickname.
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Today, Catie and I went to the grocery store to get a few things. This particular store has free balloons for kids in the floral department, and they are a huge hit with my child. And you know, anything that makes shopping with a toddler easier is just fine with me. So we grab a balloon – or as Catie calls it, “a boon!” – and happily went about our grocery shopping.

We head out to the parking lot, and I held onto the balloon because it was windy outside. They typically anchor the balloons by tying them to a lollipop, but whoever was working there today must’ve been a moron who thought that a tiny piece of scotch tape would be enough to secure the balloon’s string to the lollipop. Bet you can tell where this story is going, huh?

I opened the driver’s side car door and pushed the balloon through to put it in the back seat, so Catie could play with it when I put her in the car. (She was still sitting in the shopping cart while I did this.) I accidentally left my (front seat! driver’s side! NOT rear passenger!) car door open, and went to start putting groceries in the trunk.

Catie suddenly started screaming and crying, “Boon! A boon!! MY BOOOOONN!!!!” She just went totally apesh*t shrieking about her balloon. I was like, what the hell, child, you just saw me put it in the car, you know it’ll be there when you get in the back seat, just like it always is, every time we get a balloon from the store. Then I finally turned around to look at her and I realized she was pointing up, and… yeah. Her pretty purple balloon was floating away into the clear blue autumn sky.

Apparently a gust of wind came through that was strong enough to rip off the Scotch tape, because the lollipop was still in the back seat, and the balloon went floating away through my open car door. By the time I saw it, it was higher than the grocery store’s rooftop and halfway across the parking lot, so there was no way I could catch it.

I calmed her down, and told her I was sorry, but that balloon had to go bye-bye, but we’d go get her another one that could come home with us. I told her to wave goodbye to the balloon, and she very sadly waved and said, “bye-bye, boon.” It was quite possibly the most pitifully sad, mournful “bye-bye” you have ever heard in your life.

As soon as I got the groceries loaded into the car, we went straight back in and got her another balloon, exactly the same color as the previous one. She was happy, and held a death grip on her balloon’s string the whole way home.

The whole incident reminded me of the comedian Brian Regan – and of course I can’t find a clip of this on YouTube. He has a joke about how kids lose their minds when they lose a balloon, and adults can’t understand their distress because there’s nothing comparable for an adult. He said to imagine if you took out your wallet and it started to float away. “Calm down, it’s just a wallet, we’ll get you another one.” “I don’t want another one, I want that one! That one was mine!” Yeah. It’s sorta just like that.

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My cousin Cat and her husband Tony moved into an apartment while they’ve been doing a huge home renovation project. We helped them when they were moving into their short-term apartment. Now, two months later, this was the weekend that they finally got to move back into their house, since all of the improvements are finally finished. Since it’s difficult to move with a two year-old underfoot, we had Elizabeth come over to our house for the day to play with Cate, and we had so. much. fun.

Seriously, she’s just about the easiest toddler in the world. (I’m sure her parents don’t think so, but admittedly she was probably on good behavior for us.) In fact, I’m going to claim as my biggest accomplishment of the month the fact that I got not one but TWO toddlers down for a nap in the same room at the same time. And they both napped for about two hours. Go me.

We played with some of the other neighborhood kids and both girls seemed to have a lot of fun. I took e-baby home late this afternoon, and we miss her already. We had such a great time.

I know that taking care of two toddlers might not be some people’s cup of tea, but I think we got off way easier than the people who were loading stuff onto and hauling it off of a U-Haul. The only heavy lifting that I had to do was of two adorable girl-children, and really, you could do a lot worse.

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Last night, one of my neighbors hosted a party at her house. It was basically just for the ladies, there was a rep there from some company that sells silver jewelry, which was the main purpose of the party. I went into it thinking that I might be able to find Christmas gifts for people, but everything was crazy expensive, so I didn’t buy anything.

As soon as I got there, Margaret (the neighbor who was hosting the party) offered me a glass of wine. And I thought, well, I’ve had a long week and I deserve a break, so sure, why not? Then I had another glass. And another. I’m not sure how much I drank in total; I felt fine while we were standing in the kitchen talking. Then I left to walk home (it was two houses down from us), and as soon as I started walking, I realized that I was drunk. Not buzzed, but full-on, “ok let’s concentrate really hard on left foot, right foot so I don’t fall down” sloppy drunk. Um, oops? That hadn’t been my intention.

Cate had been hanging out with Dave while I went to the party, and she was happy to see me when I got home, but I was scared to pick her up. I sat on the floor and hugged her instead. I took a shower while Dave changed her into her pj’s, and we got her to bed. I promptly passed out.

Today, I have been so. freaking. sick. All day. Oh my lord. I think wine hangovers are worse than almost any other form of alcohol.

This is why I almost never drink at all anymore, because Mommy doesn’t get a day off to lounge around and feel miserable. I just have to suck it up and deal, because this little girl of mine still wants to play and she wants my undivided attention. I know, I know, I totally brought it on myself, so I’m not asking for sympathy, I’m just whining because I feel bad. Also, Dave has a big deadline next week and he’s been working all day today, so it’s been just me and Cate on our own while he’s been slaving away in his office. It’s been a pretty rough day for everyone around here.

Right now, we’re waiting for some pizza to get delivered to our house, because I think we earned just a little bit of laziness.

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Hi, it’s 11 p.m. but I blogged today. Damn you, NaBloPoMo. And thank you, wonderful fun neighbors with your fabulous wine.

Now excuse me while I either go throw up or fall asleep. I haven’t decided which.

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Lately I’ve been feeling like I have a major case of The Frumpiness. I’m not sure why, I’ve just been feeling sort of… blah. Very boring suburban mom-ish. Which, well, I AM a suburban mom, so I don’t know why it bothers me, but it does. Maybe it’s because I spend almost every day in a hoodie and jeans. I sort of miss having an office job (or fancy events) to dress up for.

Also, when Cate and I fly to Mississippi next week, we’re going to be meeting up with a few girls from high school, who I’ve reconnected with via the Miracle That Is Facebook. It’s not a bad thing, I’m actually kind of excited about it. But I feel like I need to look cute and make a good impression since I haven’t seen any of them in about fifteen years or so. Maybe it’s because in high school, I was sort of a non-entity; I only had a couple of friends, I didn’t date at all, I wasn’t involved in any extracurricular activities. Basically, because I was fat, I tried to be as invisible as possible. So I’d like to show that I’m cute and sassy and fun and all that good stuff.

Really, I’m sure that our get-together will be fine. After all, we’ve all grown up since high school. One girl who used to be head cheerleader is now a lawyer working for the state attorney general’s office. I’d say it’s a safe bet that she isn’t the same person she was 15 years ago either, right? And we all have little girls around the same age, so it should be a lot of fun. I’m just being unnecessarily neurotic.

But anyway, back to the issue of The Frump: I recently found out that one of my neighbors is a hairdresser. I wouldn’t have booked an appointment with her, because what if she sucked, and then trying to explain why I never went back to her would be super-awkward. But she did my next-door neighbor’s hair, and she looked fantastic, so I thought what the heck, and I asked for her card.

Today I went to her salon and got a haircut and an eyebrow wax. It’s kind of amazing how something so simple can make me feel so much better about myself. Seriously, I feel about a hundred times less frumpy now than I did this morning.

You can’t really tell in that picture since Cate is obscuring half of my head, but I think my haircut is basically “The Rachel,” just a little bit longer. I like it a lot so far, although the real test will be to see how it looks when I have to style it myself later.

So, yay! I have groomed eyebrows and a new haircut, which cost less than half what it cost me to get the exact same thing done in Washington, and I’m feeling pretty cute for the first time in a long time.

Cate says, “Just don’t go thinking you’re the cutest one in the house, lady, cuz you ain’t.”

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My across-the-street neighbor talked me into joining our local MOMS Club with her. We went to a meeting last week, and today was our first big outing: lunch at Red Robin with a bunch of other moms and their kids.

I’m not sure if it’s Cate’s age, or if she’s still traumatized by the move (hasn’t the statute of limitations for move stress expired by now?), or if this is part of her personality, but whenever Cate’s around a large crowd of kids, she tends to freak and get super-clingy. It happens at the gym’s daycare, and in that case it makes sense because she knows I’m going to leave for 45 minutes. But when we’re in a restaurant? And I’m sitting down at a table with her in my lap? Why the need to try to claw up my torso and bury her face in my neck? I don’t get it.

It bothered me more than it should have, probably. I’m sure none of the other moms were judging me, but all of their kids were sitting happily either in high chairs or in booster seats, eating the food on the table in front of them. Cate wouldn’t stop whining long enough to release her death grip on my neck and turn around to see the other children OR the food in front of her, nevermind sitting in her own seat. So it was sort of awkward. “Hi, we’ve never met. I’m Cindy, and this whimpering mound of blonde hair sticking out of my shoulder is my daughter Catie.”

One of the women I met today mentioned that the MOMS Club’s playgroups might be good for us. They divide the kids into appropriate age groups (0-12 months, 12-18 months, 2-3 year-olds, etc.) and have playgroups at a certain club member’s house once a week. She mentioned that if Cate spends enough time around other kids and their moms, eventually she might get used to it and start to relax and be a little more confident in group settings. Maybe she’s right, but I’m scared to think of what kind of horrible impression my child and I might make on these other moms until Cate gets used to them.

But really, we’ve been going outside every day to play with the other kids in the neighborhood, and even though she knows all of them, she still freaks out and clings to me when there are too many kids around, or if they get too loud and rambunctious (like today, when there were about 8 kids jumping in a pile of leaves in one neighbor’s yard). And she hasn’t warmed up to any of the other moms, even though she sees them almost every day.

Part of me just shrugs this off as being part of her personality. She’s always been a snuggler, and she’s always seemed to need a little extra reassurance whenever we’re in a new situation. But sometimes (like when I’m around a whole slew of other kids her age, none of whom are freaking out like she is), I wonder if it’s something that I’m doing wrong. Like maybe there’s something I should be doing to encourage her to be more self-sufficient.

I know this is a phase. It’s not like she’s going to be burying her face in my neck on her first day of college. But I do worry about what happens in the interim. I read blogs by women who have kids that freak out every day over preschool and kindergarten, and I don’t want that for her. I want her to be able to enjoy a wide range of activities without fear or anxiety. I’m just not sure how best to foster her sense of independence.

On Friday, there’s another MOMS Club outing to a local park. I figure that we’ll try it out and see how it goes. Cate generally loves any activities that are outside, so maybe she’ll be fine. Who knows. It’s worth trying, anyway.

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Argh, it’s 10:30 p.m. and I forgot to post something today. Rather than try to come up with something to write after I’ve taken my Tylenol PM for the night (um, bad idea), I’m going to refer you to two other happy things:

First, Shannon had a baby today! Welcome to the world, baby Katie! We love you even if you do spell your name with a K instead of a C. (Hee!)

Also, baby Maddie is one year old today. I dare you to go read that post and not cry. Seriously.

Ok, I’ll be better tomorrow. Good night, y’all.

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