Making wine out of sour grapes.

Title is a little lame, but when handed a raw deal, don't be discouraged.  Anything can be positive with the right attitude and alot of flexibility. 

Family Fourth of July

We Cathcarts made our annual trip to Charleston over the Fourth of July weekend.  Obviously we make this trek because the weather is guaranteed to be perfect and my dad has a big (and FREE to us) boat.  We had a really fantastic visit... well, for the most part.

As we were down there, I experienced horrible tonsil pain, so much so that I had to go to the emergency room twice.  On the second trip, they finally figured out that I had Mono.  Ugh.  The kissing disease, otherwise known as AIDS, since folks avoided contact with me, wrongfully thinking it was easily transferred.  It was horribly painful and I was fortunate enough to have Jimmy and my mom insist that I stay down south until I recovered, so my family could help me with the kids.  Staying provided for quality time together with my parents and sister chipping in with babysitting and entertaining, even after long days at the office.

It was particularly entertaining to watch my mom and Ashton  develop a real friendship.  PHEW!  Before we started the 13 1/2 hour trip to MD, Ashton held my mom's hand for an extended period of time begging her to let him stay with her.  They played lion and doctor and had an exorcism for the "Meany Guy." They had more fun crawling and falling on  the floor.  Ashton loved the attention, and naturally, so did my mom.   I'm sure that this was due in large part to my mom's former attempts to win his favor.  There is no doubt that she's a pro with kids, and finally her master plan came to fruition.     

As I started feeling better, we made good use of our extra long visit:

Palled around the house:

We went on the boat:

 

 We went to the beach:

We went to the Children's Museum:  Reagan did an art project and loved playing in the toddler room.  Ashton learned about gravity while playing with golf balls and about water properties by playing with a mini, simulated river.  Afterward, Papa shows off his super skills by making a walking-baby-tower.

We walked the Cooper River Bridge:
It was so much fun to walk the bridge!  I think this was my favorite activity.  Ashton is enthralled with bridges (thank you, Dora), and both kids wanted to run the entire thing.  The views were amazing and it was a great end to the work week for my parents.

Just for the heck of it, we rode a trolley around Charleston:

Something about buses makes kids go nutso.  Not so sure why, but I've been meaning to take Ashton on a bus, because every bus, no matter its 'cool factor,' gets a loud welcome it enters his sight. "BUS!!!"  He's a sniper.  No bus can get by him.  Anyway, a trolley looked like the most enjoyable bus to us adults, so my mom and I took the kids on a spin around town.  It was hilarious to see both kids so mesmerized.

It took me until I was 24 to realize that thing actually do happen for a reason.  I am confident that the reason I got my STD (as Jimmy refers to it) was to spend time with my family.  Maybe this trip was intended to help my sister, Lauren, and I repair our relationship. Our strained relationship didn't come from a big blowout;  I attribute it to our 5 year age difference.  Short visits have been tolerable, but we eventually find something to bicker about.  Lauren, otherwise known as Nanny McPhee, was by my side, willing to do anything to help the Clan.  From beginning to end, she kept a smile and we hung out like the old days.  After 3+ weeks of diapers, crying, playgrounds, and Dora marathons, she was a real trooper. I can't even think of a time when I had to bite my tongue-- that's real progress, baby!   Since pleasantries wear off quickly, it was clear that our time together was authentic and what a blessing that was. 

Nanny McPhee with the kids.  She played dress up with the and they were so sad when she left.

Life Saving Award

For Jimmy's heroic actions on June 7, 2011, he was presented with the New Carrollton Police Department's Life Saving Award at the city council meeting.  It was well deserved recognition for Jimmy's selfless actions and I was beaming with pride and admiration of my husband.  I decided to bring the kids and our dear friends Megan and Justin, since I knew it would mean a lot to Jimmy.   (I now owe Megan and Justin babysitting money because it turns out that city council meetings are about as exciting as watching paint dry...)  However, it was important to me that Ashton see the ceremony, so that he can start to build a dynamic picture of who his father is, especially after seeing Jimmy standing at the front of the room in his dress uniform.  Plus, Ashton felt particularly important the rest of the evening as he was given the prestigious duty as "special present" keeper and protected it as if he were holding the crown jewels.

Congratulations, again, Jimmy.  We are all so proud of you!

Blog, oh blog, where art thou?

I've been totally delinquent on blogging.  It isn't that we haven't been up to fun things, but our laptop died a sad death, and I hate being in the dungeon (as I refer to our well-lit, fully finished basement-- meaning I have no reason to feel uncomfortable there...), so I haven't been on the computer much.  This computer hiatus hasn't been too bad, until I showed up to a birthday party that was postponed (via email).  Moron!  So, I'm back to being connected.

Ashton update:
One of the most profound developments in Ashton is his dramatic personality.  He has hand gestures and head movements combined with different sentences that make you want to die laughing.  This age is certainly fun.  Also, he's speaking so well... maybe too well...  Ashton said, "Xie xie, yéyé" to Jimmy after he gave him a bite of his Frosted Flakes.  Jimmy looked at me and asked, "What?  What's he saying?"  I quickly thought of all of the possible English translations to his 2-year-old jibberish and remembered "thank you, grandpa" from Ni Hao, Kai-Lan, a Nickelodeon show that teaches about emotions and teaches Chinese on the side.  Great.  Now I have to number 1: watch Dora and Ni Hao, so I know the phrases, and number 2: decipher whether or not the mystery statement is in English, Chinese, or Spanish.   Parenting tip number 564: purchase Rosetta Stone in Spanish and Chinese before having children. 

Reagan update:

Reagan's hilarious personality continues to develop in this little lady.  She too has looks, laughs, and screams of joy that are adorable.   She's basically running at all times and is a slippery little sucker, so I need to be extra diligent when we are out and about.  She's also quite the dancer, inevitably learned from her big brother (or her ever so graceful mother).  She will high-five, "pound it," throw trash away, choose this from that by pointing, cheers, hug (often ten times as her brother calls "Reagan, hug!,") kiss and many more grown up things.  Our favorite new skill that comes directly from Ashton is raising her pointer finger, gesturing the number one when she wants one more of something.  Ashton started this because he very cleverly, much like a used car salesman, shows us the number one, and says "One more, Mommy, oonnee.  That's it.  Peas."  This happens used to only happen when they want fruit snacks, but it has expanded to all things.  We'll have both kids holding up their fingers declaring their desire for one more, and as they have figured out, It is nearly impossible to resist their combined cuteness!

Chelsea update:
Finally got some new glasses!  Church softball season has concluded and we had the best record in the league and came first in the final league tournament (admittedly, the league had five teams, so the title of "champion" is a little inflated).  I'm still playing on the Thursday night league, and the play goes through July.  Sweet.  

Jimmy update:
Well, if you know Jimmy, you can imagine that he is busy, busy, busy.  He's working, going to school full time, and playing on three softball leagues.  Of course the perfect spouse would have pictures of him doing at least one of his activities, but since I am usually holding one and chasing another, no picture evidence of all of his fun.


Our anniversary came and went, and my attempts to blog about how great this year was for us just didn't come together. Additionally, I couldn't find a recent picture...  Lame-o.  I am going to have to get a picture of us together when we're down at my parents' house this week.  

Popularity Contest Gone Awry

For some reason, earned or otherwise, my dad has achieved the coveted status of "coolest old dude in the family" by the kids.  They love everything about him, and usually spend an inordinate amount of time sitting on his lap or shoulders.  It is indearing for me, but Grammy's pride is a little - ahem - bruised when Papa gets all of the attention.

I can't blame her, and even try to overemphasize how cool I think she is and try to steer them toward her arms when possible.  In fact, it is only an issue with Ashton. To the untrained eye, it might seem as if both grandparents get equal attention, but my mom keeps a secret tally and yearns to carry 60 lbs of baby around the house and be trampled by a kid-stampede when she enters the room.

This need to be cool backfired for ol' Cath... and was unbelievably hilarious.  For giggles, I'll provide a summary of her transgressions.

1.  Water slide at the community pool
This could be an entire blog.  Here we are at the Prince Frederick Aquatic Center in their cool kid pool area.  There are slides and water dumping bucket and water spouts and cool stuff.  Ashton and Reagan spend the entire time on the slides, and it is a blast to watch them go.  Anyway, Reagan was saddled up getting ready to go down the frog slide and my mom was behind her making sure she didn't have a head cracking fall.  As Grammy led her up, Ashton yelled from the bottom of the slide, "Grammy, Ashton catch you?"  At the sound of those words, Grammy nudges the 14-month-old infant out of the way and hops down the slide towards the two year old.  Miss judging the speed at which she would careen down the slide, Grammy ran smack-dab into Ashton, of course knocking him over, sitting on top of him, and smothering him under the water.  We quickly saved the traumatized little guy from death and naturally, Ashton was a little miffed about the incident.  Seriously, Grammy?  Not really the way to win his favor...
2.  Drowning at the hands of his Grandmother
After the water slide debacle, Ashton had short-term memory loss and seemed interested in having Grammy catch him as he jumped off the bottom of the big blue slide.  Grammy obliged (what a surprise) and all was well.  While in her arms, Grammy decided to teach Ashton how to hold his breath by blowing in his face and dunking him in the water.  Awesome idea, however, the kid ain't so great at holding his breath, so the five second water dunk was an epic fail.  Ashton emerged from the water with his lungs full of water and proceeded to vomit.  Great.  TWEET, TWEET!!!  We heard the fateful whistles from the lifeguards and learned that vomit is on par with poop and at the very sight of it, the entire pool must be evacuated.  Embarrassingly, my dad tried to scoop up the vomit to help get everyone back in the pool, to which we learned was just gross and didn't help the problem at all.  Grammy, here's a lesson: there is no way the kid will like you after you drown him.  In fact, he might haunt you.
4.  Strike out
While in Walmart, Ashton was fascinated with this weird purple ball.  Since it was like $45 dollars, I refused to buy it, but was relying on him getting distracted to ditch the thing and move on.  Once he seemed  distracted, I had the ball do a disappearing act to a high shelf.  As soon as I was busted by Ashton, he called for the purple ball, to which Grammy grabbed and decided to hurl at his face.  Awesome help; except he can't catch.  SMACK! The ball hits his face and knocks the two-year-old over.  Good job, Grammy.  Surely a concussion is going to win him over.
5.  Frog on the loose
We aren't sticks in the mud, but Jimmy and I have no interest in having any pets at the juncture in our lives.  Grammy, in her last ditch effort to be cool, found a frog on our stoop and decided to trap it and give it to Ashton as a short term pet.  Great idea!  He was jazzed, and as they came into our house, Grammy succumbed to his pleas to see the frog.  Ribbit!  The frog jumps out of the bucket and goes hopping as far away from his captures at possible.  The frog has yet to be found and it has been over three weeks.

It wouldn't have been much of an issue assuming the frog was located, but the poor little guy looked for the frog for the entire next week.  I just hope to be the one to find the fossilized frog, and not Ashton, because I'm not interested in explaining the life cycle of a frog, including its natural demise when taken from its habitat and not given food or water.  Thanks Grammy.  We are all pumped about the dead frog in our house.

One thing you can't take away from my sweet mother:  SHE IS DETERMINED.  I'm thinking I might want to give her a few pointers before she goes on another popularity rampage...

You can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your neighbors!

Neighbors are inevitable.  We all know that, but being in a townhouse makes your neighbors a bit more involved in your life.  We have good neighbors.  We have weird neighbors.  We have old neighbors. And we have a total bitch who lives next door of all places.  (Sorry, Mom, but there isn't a better adjective...)

I won't bore you with the background to our hostile relationship, but the short version is that we argue with her about once a month related to "her parking spots."  In protest to our insisting that there are not assigned spots, she parks over two parking spots every day because she claims them as her own.  She's old and ornery, lives alone, and never, ever has visitors.  What a surprise.

Our most recent interaction was her raining on my parade as I cut our grass for the first time (I'm all about females being just as capable as men, but I had never had the occasion to mow before).  Here I was using a lawn mower, and did the unthinkable.   I mowed her 18 inch rectangle of our shared lawn.  The horror!  She was outside not 3 minutes after I cut and was sweeping her sidewalk.

I told her I was just about to sweep, which apparently invited her to chastise me for cutting her portion.  She went on and on about how it was her grass and that I cut it too short, and my doing so somehow leaves bare portions in her pristine patch of grass.  She further questioned why we haven't signed up for the community lawn service, so that our grass could be cut along with the hers because "it looks bad when one part is cut and another is longer."

"They only charge $20 a month.  Why don't you sign up?  I'll get you the number."

"We have our own lawn mower, so we are not interested in signing up."

"Well, it looks bad.  I'll get you the number."

After telling our dear friends, who are reasonable neighbors, Brandi declared that she was going to put weed killer on Meany's grass in the middle of the night for us.  How kind.  Truthfully, I might do that...  I have often wished for her demise and then feel guilty, but attempt to justify these thoughts because she's lived a long enough life.  I'm horrible... and feel guilty again...