Wednesday, October 20, 2010

On the Road Again: Parenting in Hotels, at Vendor Events

Once upon a time (last year), I started a business with Phil (hi, Phil! *waves frantically*). Many moons later (last month), we got some stuff and took it to the kingdom of Omaha. The King of Omaha (yo, Charlie! of Next Millenium) held a grand festival (Mystic Fest) every year, during which he invited Phil and myself, as well as many others, to present our stuff in a semi-organized fashion.

Yup, me and Phil went to Omaha to do a show. We got 2 1/2 tables this year. Ok, it was 3 tables, but we gave 1/2 a table to PAN. Woot!!

Ok, so, we traveled all the way out there with a 5 mo (we left the 4 yo at home with grama, cuz we are CRAZY not STUPID!) and got to our hotel. EPIC KUDOS to my dad, who made reservations for me. We were literally on the other side of a parking lot from where we were doing the show. LITERALLY. *happy dances across the parking lot*

Now, I get to spend much of my time with my daughter with my shirt off or otherwise exposing portions of my breastesses. The "downside" of breastfeeding. I say "downside" in quotes, cuz most non-prudish, straight-ish males can't figure out the downside of exposed breastesses.

So, I spent two full days at the event, juggling the baby back and forth between me, daddy, Phil and our Fae-helper, as well as Fay (of Crone's Creations, aka Wytch Way Wear) and her helper/friend person. Oh, and half the vendors at the show.


During set-up, we found that a bottle of money-oil spilled into the plastic baggie (yay for ziplock bags), so we greased up our hands periodically. Then we rubbed the oil on the baby's butt and called her the Money-baby.

Trust me, it was cute.

I have to say, a baby in a hotel is always easier than a toddler or pre-schooler. I've seen so many people worried about taking the baby on trips. Trust me, at that age, they are sooooo easy to travel with.

Oh, you want to know how we did? Well, check out the pic... Do we LOOK happy?

Cute BABY PIC!!!

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

No Longer the Single Parent: Getting a Houseboy, or How to Keep a Home Clean with a Preschooler

Ok. The title is a joke. It's meant to be funny.

Not because I use the term "houseboy," but because anyone with a preschooler knows, there is no keeping the house clean.

Wow, it's been about 3 months since I made the decision. I decided to get back together with the father of my youngest (almost a 6 mo). He moved in within a few weeks and I began the way I always begin - with complete honesty.

I said, "Honey, I'm a demanding bitch. But you will always know where you stand."

I think he thought I was joking. Or at least exaggerating.


So now I have a full grown man to chase my son, watch my daughter, clean house and cook meals. I know, right? I've got it made in the shade.

Well, except he doesn't know much about raising kids, cleaning house or cooking.

I get mad sometimes, frustrated often, and I praise him whenever he does good work. For example, I told him that dinner tonight (baked chicken, mixed veggies and stuffing) was wonderful. And it was.

However, three hours ago, I looked up how to cook a chicken cuz he put it in the oven at the temp he thought it should be and for the time he guessed was right. B'gak!!

Two days ago, I gave him the eyebrow (left eyebrow raised in the WTF look) because he wanted to actually cook the stuffing inside the chicken. As in, put it in the raw bird. Something that nutritionists everywhere have warned against for decades, now.

I may have told him his idea was quaint... Or antiquated. I'm not sure which. I'm pretty sure I didn't call him names... Pretty sure...

I also remind him frequently that messes should be cleaned immediately unless you want stains. Skid marks don't belong on the toilet seat. And thou shalt not soak the cast iron in water with the wooden utensils. Gah!!

But all Mr. Mom-humor moments aside, he is totally invaluable to me. He likes to grind wheatberries and use the sifter to sift out flour for REAL whole wheat bread (which he loves to make - though I need to get him to understand that rising times are not just a kinda-suggestion).

He thought it was the greatest thing since (whole wheat) sliced bread when I bought, not one, but TWO meat grinders AND a shoulder roast for him to make ground beef. At this rate, his birthday gift is gonna be a breeze!

Oh, and he's super sweet, and cuddly too! (Though the bastard has lost more than 30 lbs since moving in... Grrrr! I've only lost about 5 lbs.) He makes me coffee in the morning while I take a shower and turns on the news for me. He makes lunch for me to take to work everyday. He has supper going when I get home. He brings in the mail every day. And he takes bug to the park (an event of epic proportions in and of itself).

So, all in all, I think we are a happier, more smoothly-running family because of him. And he's warm. He warms my butt at night.

What? You've never had a cold butt at night? It's a serious medical-ish condition.