We had a lovely time in Chicago, and I have 113 pictures to prove it. I don't know what happens in these family situations: is Clementine extra cute, or is there some competitive instinct within me to take the most photographs ever? Also, I have come back 113 pounds heavier, I swear. Nate and I made our way back to Detroit like Hansel and Gretel, following the breadcrumbs after being all fattened up and escaping the witch. We enjoyed all types of pizza and junk food, not to mention KC's killer chocolate chip cookies and homemade brownies. And that was all before Sunday, when we really busted out the junk food. I can't tell if this is a tactic to get us to stay forever or never ever come back--both seem entirely possible depending on where I am in my digestive cycle. Today it is all regret.
After arriving late on Friday night, we all enjoyed a wide awake darling C. until about 2 a.m., when she finally gave in to sleep for a whopping 15 minutes. The night progressed like this: awake, smiling and cute for 30 minutes, alseep for 30 minutes, awake and fussy for 20 minutes, asleep for 30 minutes, etc. etc. until finally she was fast asleep and crying her eyes out AT THE SAME TIME. This is a new trick she is perfecting, and although my sister found it quite funny, I really did think about putting her down, walking out the front door and not coming back until the end of the weekend. At 6 I decided to just wake her up--she went from crying her eyes out to wide awake and bubbly. Go figure.
We took my lovely niece Abby with us downtown for breakfast and to see my friend Crystal. Since darling C. was on the edge of breakdown, Nate got to squeeze his little behind between the two car seats in the back to keep the hysteria to a minimum. We usually mock family cars, but it wasn't lost on either of us that having two kids (two car seats) will mean looking at a car in terms of practicality instead of coolness. It's a sobering thought. We picked up Crystal and headed to Lou Mitchell's in the West Loop. As we waited in line outside, a nice lady brought us some donut holes, which Abby double-fisted, getting crumbs and powdered sugar all over. This immediately earned her sweetheart status with everyone around us in line, and they all laughed as they watched her cram fistfuls of cake into her face. I should note here that darling C. has yet to experience food herself. I know nothing of how children relate to food, and it didn't strike me as a bad idea to let Abby have whatever she wanted to eat, even if she had thrown up all night long two nights prior. She looked healthy and it's good to eat, right? So there was no reason for me to deny her the little box of Milk Duds they give you as they seat you (this is now my most favorite breakfast place EVER), or pancakies and sausage. Look how cute she was as we were eating:
Surprisingly, given her lack of sleep, darling C. was in good spirits as well. Must have been just basking in the air of donuts, Milk Duds, the best pancakes in the world and her dad's wacked breakfast that included eggs, potatoes and some apple pie filling. While we chowed, we let her play with a spoon--aren't we nice parents? She liked it so much we gave her another. And another. Who needs fancy toys? The nice thing about spoons is that they're so portable, as we learned when we arrived home to find two of them in her car seat. Being a mom makes you a klepto apparently.
We went to see Crystal's amazing condo on the lake after that, and while darling C. was clearly at home in the urban environs I would do just about anything to inhabit, Abby had different feelings. We spent a little time in the bathroom together and she refused to leave because of the disturbing sculpture Crystal has on her wall named "Harold." Truth told, Harold is creepy, but I'm a total asshole for finding Abby's intense fear of him kind of amusing. I had to cover him with a sheet beore she agreed to come out of the bathroom, and then she avoided that whole side of the living room, looking very suspiciously at him from time to time. I still smile a little when I think of it, and now I know I'm just as bad as my mom, who used take out this creepy backscratcher she had in a drawer just to watch Abby's terrified reaction. It's funny the stuff she fears. In my house, she requests that all busts get put in the closet, and then she talks a lot about how she's not scared of my fire alarms. This means she is.
We left Crystal's to head back to the burbs to see my dad and his wife who were visiting from D.C. I'm not exactly sure what went down when Abby went to see them, but by the time KC and I got there, Abby was hiding under the coffee table and refused to come out. I was afraid it was more Harold-phobia, but the total meltdown that followed KC pulling her out from under the table made it clear there was a lot more going on.
Did you know a kid can cry for a whole hour? Seriously. Abby and KC sat upstairs, and Abby cried and cried, refusing anything and everything my sister offered her: cookies, candy, being naked, a pony, a car, her own house, etc. I don't know if I felt worse for KC or Abby, who could only articulate "I need....SOMETHING!" between her sobs. I"m not sure how it all resolved because a.) I totally couldn't deal with it and b.) my own lovely was a wee bit fussy, what with no sleeping and all. Eventually Abby recovered and dressed up like Fancy Nancy for us:
The weekend continued with ups and downs. Poor Abby just had way too much to deal with--visitors, her little sister, another baby hogging the spotlight (darling C.) and so on., and it didn't help that when she went to bed she had diarrhea. Yup. All over my sister's bed. Being a mom is sooooo glamorous. Who had it worse? KC with shit in her bed or me with a wide awake little girl in mine all night? Hard to say. We had a great time, but by Sunday, we were all happy to see the end of the weekend in sight. First, there was a disasterous attempt at a photo shoot with the grandparents. Ain't nobody looking too good:
Then, we stopped at our family friend Judy's house, where darling C. was given more cute handmade clothes to wear than she will ever be able to, and I made my mom cry within the first 45 minutes by having the audacity to request that she not rifle through my diaper bag. We consumed hundreds of calories in pizza and cake, and then were off in the night like phantoms. Before we left, though, darling C. started to show off with her I'm-almost-crawling routine. And with that, the weekend ended:
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