Now with less kitchen sink!

It has been a very exciting day for us at the punk rock household--nay, it has been an exciting weekend. Today, after lots of hard work (all of which was done by Nate, although I did promise at one point that if we did this I would TOTALLY HELP; I suck), a big and wonderful breakfast at Club Bart, a long bike ride and a trip to the park, we drove the Mercedes around the neighborhood on straight vegetable oil for the first time ever. It was rocky at first as the system "burped," but it was shortly smooth and very tasty smelling sailing.



I daresay even Miss Clementine enjoyed tooling around on the inaugural ride, and we all know how she feels about the car (though that has kind of changed now that she has turned around and can face the world). She was either ecstatic at the idea of being the most ecologically conscious child on the block, smacking her head as if to say "My crazy parents," or she was practicing pulling a blanket up over her head when riding in the back seat of the french fry mobile on her way to school:



But mere mechanics is not all the weekend had to offer. Clementine and I enjoyed a great morning downtown with Hudson, despite the tomfoolery of social awkwardness near other parents I detailed below (and yes, in case you are wondering, I am totally ignoring the fact that I am such a loser an internet shrink sought out MY BLOG to give me tips on social interactions via the comments section. As far as I'm concerned, it just didn't happen). We saw a parade, went to Eastern Market to get all sorts of goodies (thank heavens that for once I had the stroller), played in the park, had yet another long bike ride and, much to my family's shock and amazement, took almost NO pictures. I don't think I'm cured or anything (I just uploaded three dozen more photos to Flickr--I have a PROBLEM, people, and I need HELP) and I certainly don't think Clementine had a single second when she was less than photogenic, but I managed to only photograph a very serious looking Hudson and a very serious spelling error all day long.





I like to think it was the spelling that had Hudson so worried, but I think it was really that he was horrified his parents seemed to be paying no attention to him as he ate grass--I swear, he practically mowed the whole park with his teeth. Were I not there to shirk social niceties in order to care for him, who knows what his fate would have been. Who knows??

But the really cherry on the top of our weekend cherry was a rousing trip to Target Friday night after discovering that the best Mexican food we've been able to find in Detroit is sadly not in the city. We've done Mexican Village and we love us some authentic ambiance, but the food at this place near the *gasp* mall was really the closest we've come to tolerable since Agave shut down, no doubt for having the biggest asshole greet people at the door and scoff at them if they ask for a high chair. But I digress. I think my Friday evening can only be described in song, so channel some Madonna channeling Eva Perrone and sing this to the tune of "Evita:" "Don't cry for me De-troit hipsters, the truth is I hardly miss you! There were my wild days, my bars and galleries, but now there are errands...on Friday evenings." OK, that didn't really work and I think it is now obvious that I'm losing my mind, but I had a great time getting lots of shopping done while the whole world was out having fun and living interesting lives. We're taking Karen (she of the shuffle board and booze and karaoke) down on this one, too--I think she had more fun with us in Target than she normally does when she's out with adults who stay up past 10 p.m. and can't tell you everything there is about breastfeeding and infant bowel movements. Proof that Target rocks just as hard as any youthful night out: costumes.



Yes, we are losers. But we're losers who all have new toys from Target and got a good night's sleep on Friday. How many hipsters can say the same?

We capped the weekend off with a quick trip to Ann Arbor for the judge's wife's birthday party. I haven't had many moments like this as a parent (or really in my life at all), but the second we walked in the door of the restaurant, I knew it wasn't the best place for us. We love Julie and were happy to celebrate with her, but no one (NO ONE) had brought their kids, and everyone was dressed to the nines. We weren't out of place--everyone was super nice to us because we have the cutest baby in the world, after all--but it was hardly the family gathering we had thought it might be. There were politicos there and lots of social connections to be made, and we were absolutely blindsided by it. We copped a seat in a corner booth and let Clementine try her hand at the very chic vegetarian finger foods all around, and then we very quietly and quickly made our exit--happy we could have been there to celebrate but happy also that a kid is always the perfect excuse to leave a party even without much social grace. The old me would have been a little mental over misreading things, over not "doing it right" or talking to the right people, dressing the right way. But here's a way motherhood has really strengthened and improved me: I simply didn't care. We are who are: flip flops and dress skirts, longish beards and babies at birthdays, and I'm fine with it. I'm actually a little proud of it. As we left, I called my friend Laura and invited my little family over for pizza and fun in their backyard. That's the kind of Sunday that never blindsides me.

And speaking of proud, I don't want to brag or anything, but Clementine slept through the night last night. Yes, from 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. with only a whimper early on in the evening. I realize this is something most moms say about their 6-month-old babies, but I'm taking rejoicing where I can find it. Sadly Nate and I were too stupid to hightail it to bed ourselves to enjoy deep, uninterrupted sleep. No, we stayed up until 2 and thus didn't get any more sleep than we usually do. I've got my fingers crossed for tonight, though.

And STILL speaking of proud, did I tell you I discovered the secret of parenting?