So, Justin and I need to start watching our language.  Immediately.  Like yesterday.

Robbie and I went to the movies Thursday to see Chipwrecked.  I know, not an award-winner, but it was a good Robbie-friendly option.  Unfortunately, Robbie was more in a PG-13 mood.

I stopped at the concession stand to buy popcorn and drinks before going into the movie.  Robbie, sensing that we were late, said, “Damn it!  Popcorn, Mom.  Damn it!”  I could see the kids behind the counter exchange smiles as my child continued his string of expletives.  Meanwhile, I did my best to hide my own while trying to correct Robbie’s language.

We’ve been working on alternatives.  “Oops!”  “Dang it!”  And, much to Justin’s horror, “My B!”  But, even still, “damn it!” keeps slipping out of his mouth.  But, at least he’s using it appropriately.  And not dropping the f bomb.  But stay tuned, that’s entirely likely in the next week.

It’s an interesting thing, coming out of the fog of a family tragedy.  I could feel myself start to come out late last week, and this week things are starting to feel more normal.  I went running twice this week.  I’ve been singing a little more in the car.

But it’s strange, realizing that other people went on living their lives and even interacting with me while I simply floated from day to day, unable to focus.  Occasionally, I run into someone I don’t even remember that I know.  It happened last week in church.  I saw a friend I only see in church and hadn’t seen for almost two months.  I was supposed to call her right after Thanksgiving to get our kids together to play…  Or the friend to whom I was talking earlier this week and said, “Did you know my mother-in-law had passed away?” when he asked what was going on.

Turns out, he had sent his condolences.  Which I know meant a lot to me when he sent them, as I read every single message – text, Facebook, or otherwise – and listened to every voicemail.

It’s all so overwhelming, and you do your best to focus from the time you wake up until the time you can leave work.  And when you get home, you function just enough to get your child fed, bathed, and turn on Christmas movies until we all fell asleep together.  Sadly, this becomes a habit very quickly, for everyone involved.

And so here we are, some of the pieces picked up and getting a few more of them in order every day.  After all, that’s the only option, right?

I have no idea where he comes up with this stuff.

This morning, I was trying to get Robbie ready to head out the door.  I said, “Aren’t you ready to go play with kids?”  I expected to hear something along the lines of, “Go play kids, Mom.  Fun kids!”

Instead, Robbie turned to look at me and said, “Nah, Mom.  QiQi go work in Boston.”  And then headed down the stairs.

What?  Where in the world did he get that?  To add to it, when we got outside, I headed to the car to put the bags in.  When I was finished, I turned to tell Robbie to hurry up.  He said, “See ya, Mom.  Go work in Boston.  Bye!”  And took off down the street – ironically, toward Boston.

It kept coming tonight at bed time.  Robbie stood up on his changing table and jumped into my arms (at some point I expect this to stop being such a surprise, and Robbie fails to understand that it can be dangerous if the person is not paying attention…).  As I caught him, he yelled, “Good jumper, Mom!”  Then, as he gave me a big hug, he congratulated me, saying, “Good catch, Mom.”  And I laughed, because I think it was a very good catch, too.

It was bound to happen.  In the past nine-and-a-half years, Justin and I have driven thousands of miles.  First back and forth from Kentucky to Georgia to see each other – 475 miles each way.  Then to see our parents.  Then 1000 miles to Kentucky from Boston to see family.  Justin got pulled over once for speeding but got out of the ticket.  I wound up on the side of the road once when I ran over semi tire tread.  But that’s it.

Until last night.

There we were, air drumming our way home from a friend’s house.  Listening to my running mix.  I saw the light turn yellow.  I knew I should have stopped.  But, well, I didn’t.  A split second later I saw them.  Blue lights.  Flashing just for me.

He came up to the car, flashing his light in the back seat.  I rolled down my window.  Our conversation went a little something like this:

“Good evening.  Any idea why I pulled you over?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure it had something to do with that red light back there.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Sir, in all honesty, I really thought it was yellow when I went through.”

“It may have been yellow when you started, but it was red the rest of the time.  License and registration, please.”

And there we have it.  The first time I have been pulled over in fourteen years.  And the dear, sweet officer was doing a whole lot of writing.  Surely too much writing to just give a warning.  Probably $150 worth of warning.

Ten minutes later (incidentally, stopping for the red light would not have taken me this long), he wear back at my window.  “OK, Ma’am.  This is just a warning.  Be careful and have a good night.”

It was all I could do not to jump out of the car and hug him.  Somehow, I managed to restrain myself and turned to Robbie.  I said, “Robbie, can you say ‘Thank you’ to the kind officer?”

From the back seat, I heard a very tired, “Thank you, ciffer.”

And there you have it.  My perfect driving record still in tact and a little reminder to slow down.  That lesson was hammered home a mile down the road where I came across a pedestrian/car accident that had just happened.  And I have to wonder, would that have been me hitting the pedestrian if I hadn’t been forced to slow down?

I actually think I’m going to frame my warning.  After all, who doesn’t need a visual reminder to slow down.

It must be amazing to be two.  Everything is new.  Everything is amazing.  If only I could look at life like that, and maybe, if I spend a little more time paying attention to how Robbie lives, I can.

I taught Robbie how to rock out in the car last night.  Air drumming.  Singing at the top of his lungs.  He didn’t know a single word, but he was having a blast.  The words he could understand he sang on a delay, highly off-pitched.  And with the biggest smile on his face.  While we were doing that, it sadly occurred to me that we had never rocked out in the car before.  It’s so easy to do, and it puts both of us in such a good mood.

And then, if the night could get any better, Robbie discovered how to hang the moon.  While playing with a flashlight, he discovered that if he put it on the ceiling, the moon would appear.  His eyes got big, his mouth dropped, and he said, “Look, Mom!  Moon!  QiQi moon!”  How magical, to think you could bring the moon inside and have the power to make it appear and disappear with a simple flick of the wrist.

Moments later, Robbie’s best friend’s dad showed them how to stick a flashlight under their shirt and glow.  You would have thought he told them Mickey Mouse was coming for dinner!  They dissolved into giggles, both trying to glow with their flashlights.

I think we so often get caught up in all the big things in life.  Paying bills, cleaning the house, sorting through family drama, trying to stay ahead of the game at work.  But what if we turned the music up a little?  Sang at the top of our lungs even when we don’t know the words?

Just make sure you don’t run a red light when you do it…

My house has been driving me crazy.  For months.  Possibly years.  We have minimal closet space.  Actually, for New England it’s pretty decent.  For anywhere else in the world, it’s abysmal.  We have too much stuff.  It’s a terrible combination.  And so, to celebrate our only our third weekend home together in the past ten weeks, I created this to do list.

It took two and a half days, but we did it.  I sorted through every single closet, drawer, and cabinet in the house.  Well, except for the guest room/Justin’s office and the basement.  But what do you expect?  Total perfection?

Here are a few things I learned on my journey to organization:

1.  It is best to keep all of a particular item in one place.  For example, batteries, Scotch tape, tubes of toothpaste, and hair brushes.  We have approximately 65 never-used batteries (AA, AAA, C, and D – we have them all), 7 rolls of tape, 6 tubes of toothpaste (3 unopened), and 5 hairbrushes.  By having them all in one place, you will not continue to purchase, purchase, purchase.  And you’ll actually be able to find them at midnight when you just have to change the channel.

2.  Tupperware takes up a lot less room when you actually use it and it isn’t just stacked haphazardly in your pantry.

3.  Junk mail should be shredded as it enters the house.  There is no good reason to have boxes of “to shred” papers three years old.  But, we do.  And probably always will.

4.  This cannot be done (or cannot be done well/without major panic attack) without a competent partner in crime.  Fortunately, I happen to have one of these.  He (very willingly) completed all of the out-of-the-house errands; took care of Robbie (how many times can you watch the Toy Story trilogy?); sorted through all of our DVDs, video games, and CDs; washed, folded, and put away all the laundry; and even brought me coffee each morning.

5.  Have one junk drawer in the house.  There is no way you are actually going to have a place for everything.  It’s just not possible, so don’t try.  But make sure that only the most important junk goes there.

6.  PUT YOUR THINGS AWAY!  You don’t want to have gone through all this clean out for nothing.  You don’t want all your work to be undone in two weeks.  So, remember how hard you worked and put that glass in the dishwasher, those socks in the hamper, and those groceries in the pantry.

Are you ready?  Totally inspired to get your house organized?  Don’t worry, I’m not taking it personally.  There’s always next weekend.

3:05 in the morning.  That was when the alarm went off on Saturday morning.  And, yes, it was set that early on purpose.  Perhaps because Justin and I had lost our minds.  Actually, I’m sure that’s what it was.  We were running the Disney World Half Marathon.

That was actually the entire reason we were at Disney World; Justin had promised his mom that he would run again for her.  And, after all that had gone on, how could he not run?  How could we not run?  And so, despite our lack of training, sleep, and anything resembling energy, we were on a bus to Epcot to run 13.1 miles.  In matching shirts I had made.  Pink, for Augusta.  Justin’s says, “I love you, Mom” on the back.  Mine says, “This one is for Grandmama”.  She would have loved them.

Disney knows how to throw a race; I’ve never seen anything like it.  Eight corrals of people.  27,000 of our closest friends.  Fireworks in the middle of the night.  OK, OK.  Fireworks at 5:30 in the morning.  Might as well have been the middle of the night.  Each corral got it’s own firework start, which was pretty fabulous.

All of a sudden, we were off and there was no turning back.  Only 13.1 miles between us and relative rest (there was a two-year-old resting up at the hotel with an overpaid babysitter just waiting for us to show him more fun).  This race was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.  High school marching bands and cheerleaders were scattered throughout the course, playing and cheering us on.  There was a tethered hot air balloon.  Disney characters every mile or so.  Oh, and the two parks.

The race started just outside of Epcot and ran all the way to the Magic Kingdom.  And I do mean all. the. way.  Just because you see signs that say “Magic Kingdom, Left Lane” does not mean you are close.  They took us the long way – through the main parking gates, through two or three miles of parking lots.  And then, finally, we were there.  Running down Main Street.

And through Tomorrowland – Buzz posing for pictures right next to us.  Around Fantasyland.  Through the castle.  Down a lovely street filled with the aroma of freshly baked cinnamon rolls.  And then back onto the main street again.

It was fun until Mile 8.  And then, all of a sudden, the race was horrible.  Mile 9 should have brought some relief. The gel from the Clif Bar stop at 8.6 miles should have kicked in, but all I could think was that I still had four freaking miles left to run.  But I held it together pretty well until Mile 10 when Justin kindly said, “Well, we just have a 5K left.  That’s all.”  I wanted to punch him.  Instead, I posed for a picture.

Somehow, by the grace of God, Justin and I managed to cross the finish line.  We were slow, but we ran almost the whole thing (probably 12.8 miles) and finished without major injury.  And I know how thrilled Augusta would have been to watch us cross that finish line, hands raised over our heads.

How can I possibly find the words to describe our first day at the Magic Kingdom with Robbie?  They all sound so trite, so cliche.  But it really was magical.

As soon as the gates opened, we headed for the Astro Orbiters,  a ride Justin loved when he was little but that just wasn’t geared for a thirty-something man without a child.  As we made our way to Tomorrowland, Robbie got more and more excited about all the spaceships he was seeing.  You can only imagine his excitement when he found out that he was actually going to get to fly one!  Actually, it was a little bit of terror following take-off.  But, as soon as he realized he could move the ship up and down, life got a little better.

We continued to make our way through Tomorrowland on the Peoplemover, one of Grandmama’s favorites.  Robbie got a little tense when the ride went dark, telling us that it was “really dark, but that’s OK”.  And then he got to control our space ship while Justin and I battled it out on the Buzz Lightyear ride.  He loved spinning us around in circles, much to Justin’s dismay (he takes that ride and the shooting of aliens very seriously).

From there, it was a day of pure childhood bliss.  A round on the Speedway.  A ride – or three – on the tea cups (with that “silly mouse, Mom!”).  Meeting the White Rabbit.  Heading over to Snow White (which Robbie declared “a little scary, Mom”), Small World, Haunted Mansion (“really scary, Mom!”) and Pirates of the Caribbean.  And then we happened on the parade.

It was meant to be.  Some how, we wound up with “front curb” seats, and the floats stopped right in front of us.  Then, miracle of all miracles, a dance party started.  Kids were invited to dance in the street with characters.  And who was the character right in front of us? You guessed it – Woody.  Robbie, having no fear, ran right up to dance with him.  And, boy, did they dance!  At one point, Woody tried to grab Robbie’s hand to lead a conga line, but he wasn’t paying attention.

He spent the rest of the day meeting characters – Pooh and Tigger (who was thrilled to see Robbie wearing a Tigger hat), Mickey and Minnie (they did the Hot Dog Dance when Robbie told them he knew it), and then dinner with Pooh, Tigger, Piglet, and Eeyore.  And a dance party with Chip, Dale, and Stitch.  Are you kidding me?  Could it possibly get any better?

Yes, it could.  Just a little.  A dessert buffet on the Tomorrowland Terrace with a perfect view of the fireworks.  And Robbie, finally, passed out from sheer exhaustion of the best day of his life.

Watching Robbie experience Disney World is quite possibly the coolest thing I have ever gotten to do as a parent.  Actually having the child was pretty incredible.  Being with him when he figured out Christmas was fantastic.  But Disney World for the first time?  Magical.

It took awhile before we were finally able to get to Epcot.  Fortunately, our flight got in an hour early and our hotel room was ready when we got here.  Then it was off to ESPN’s Wide World of Sports to pick up our half marathon packets (a nightmare, by the way) and finally to Epcot, where Robbie was able to realize what all the build-up had been about.

There was some debate as to Robbie’s first ride.  After all, you only get your first Disney ride once in your life.  And it has to be the right one.  Journey into Imagination it was.  As we walked into the ride, we were ushered aside by a cast member who asked if we wanted to take a side trip and see something very few people got to see.  He opened a door just outside of the line and escorted us in.  And there it was, a shrinking room!  As we walked in, the room got smaller and smaller until the door at the far end was nothing more than a window, perfect for Robbie to look through.

Once we reached the head of the line we asked to please wait for the first car, since it was Robbie’s first ride.  We wanted to make sure we did it right.  The lovely gentleman assigning seats had us wait over to the side and then held the ride long enough to take a family picture of Robbie going on his first ride.

Robbie sat through the entire experience, hardly moving a muscle.  His eyes were open wide and his jaw was partially dropped.  He kept saying, “Figment” every time he saw the little dragon pop up.  From there, it was onto The Seas and Finding Nemo.  Robbie sat on the floor with the other kids for Turtle Talk (yelling, “Hey, kids!” as he approached…).  He saw manatees and rode in a spaceship.  Somewhere in there, Robbie managed to finagle his way into eating all of Justin’s ice cream.

And there was even a chance meeting with Chip and Dale, who tried to steal the ice cream, too!

We had to cut our night short during dinner when Robbie lost complete control of his senses.  Papers were thrown over the ledge onto unsuspecting guests dining below us.  Silverware was chucked toward the table behind us and to the left.  At one point, Robbie had a screaming competition with himself.  You know, basically what you would expect when you wake a two-and-a-half-year-old up at five in the morning and expect him to go all day without a nap.  Shortly after dinner, he looked a little something like this.

So, we opted to return to the hotel and miss the rest of Epcot.  After all, our child needed sleep.  Except he managed to run around our room like a man who had lost his mind for two hours, turning light switches on and off (I’d like to thank the person who installed light switches in the bedposts at perfect toddler height).  However, he finally passed out.

There is nothing more wonderful than the pure elation of your child, especially when you helped make it possible.  And I can’t wait for tomorrow when we take him to Magic Kingdom where he will finally really get to meet Mickey.  And then take a nap.

There’s a famous story involving my husband drinking in college.  He’d had a bit much to drink when the guys ran out of beer.  Justin, being the persuasive man that he is, insisted on continuing to drink the non-existent beer.  Unsure of what to do, his friends poured water into the empty Natty Light cans and served them to my unsuspecting husband.  He proudly swung them back, proclaiming the beer to be delicious.

Fast-forward thirteen years or so (after all, I’m sure Justin was well over twenty-one when this incident occurs).  Robbie comes up the stairs with a cup in his hand, complaining that he’s thirsty.  Being the attentive mother that we all know I am, I rush out to help him.  He looks at me, points down the stairs, and says, “Diet Coke heavy, Mom.  Please help.”  And, sure enough, there was a two-liter of Diet Coke parked halfway up the stairs.

I tried to convince Robbie that milk or juice was the way to go, but he wasn’t having it.  “Diet Coke, Mom.  I want Diet Coke.”  He may have even started chanting, “Diet Coke!  Diet Coke!”

So, I did what any good mother would do.  I rushed down the stairs ahead of him, swooping up the plastic bottle on my way.  I ran to the sink, filled the cup 75% full with water, and then headed to the kitchen.  I managed to pour juice in the rest of the cup just as Robbie came around the  bend.  He screamed that he wanted Diet Coke, and I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to pull it off.

Quickly grabbing the bottle of Diet Coke, I opened it and pretended to pour it into the already full cup.  And I had to be convincing, getting the liquid all the way to the lip of the bottle because Robbie was watching very carefully.  With a flourish, I stopped “pouring”, screwed the cap back on, and presented Robbie with his Diet Coke.  And held my breath.

He gratefully took the cup, now parched from all his chanting, and took a deep swig.  His eyes met mine as he finished drinking.  Robbie inhaled deeply and proclaimed, with great passion, “Oh, thanks, Mom!  Yummy Diet Coke.”