This picture might be the only smile I got from Robbie. It’s his “Cheese!” smile. If you know how to get a child to behave on a plane, please let me know. Apparently I have no idea. At all. On our first flight, we cleared the front of the plane. The gentleman sitting on the other side of the row first moved up to the front row to escape us. As soon as the “fasten seat belt” sign went off, he bolted to the back of the plane. I got the last laugh, there, though… The poor guy was also on our flight to Boston. I won’t lie; I got a kick out of seeing the irritation wash across his face when we passed him during boarding.

We had seats to ourselves during both flights, which was a huge relief. It’s so much easier to deal with a squirmy child when you don’t have to also worry about him kicking the woman next to you. Or vomiting on the gentleman in the suit on his way to a job interview (as happened in August).

Robbie does, apparently, enjoy flying the business commuter flights to the standard puddle jumpers. As soon as he was able, he left my lap to stretch out in the leather seat and sit like a real big boy. He made friends with the flight attendant and was, perhaps, the only one to listen intently to his presentation on how to buckle a seat belt and use an oxygen mask.

The real challenge, though, came after both flights. We got in from Laguardia thirty minutes early and had to wait over an hour for Justin to come and retrieve us. Robbie offered his ball to a stranger sitting down the row of chairs. And she was a stranger… No one I would have approached. He made two runs to the escalator, forcing me to make a quick decision between child and purse. He spun in circles until he couldn’t walk. And he cried. A lot. That made two of us…

I disappeared when I went to Kentucky. And it’s not because there isn’t electricity or cable in Kentucky, although that would be a good excuse. It’s partly because I just wanted to enjoy being home and partly because I don’t really like my mom’s computer. I know that sounds silly, but there’s something comforting about the old Mac.

Robbie and I did it all while we were home. Lunch at Shakertown with Tom’s family. Dinner extravaganza with the Dreidame clan. Crazy child. Lunch with friends. Pedicure and manicure with the mom. Visits to our 103-year-old friend in the nursing home. A trip to the children’s museum.

A note about going to a children’s museum… First thing in the morning on a school day sounds perfect, right? All the big kids are in school. The little kids can run around and play with everything. Right? Uh, no. School days are actually the perfect time for, you guessed it, field trips. There were big kids everywhere. Even in the “under three only” section. We went with my good friend Jill and her two boys and still managed to see everything that was open. And, you know what, the hour that we spent there was just enough.

It was the moments where we weren’t doing anything that made the trip so memorable. And, since a picture is worth a thousand words, it seems easiest to just show you what Robbie and I did for five days.

Most importantly, Hilary (Heeahee) had a balloon waiting for Robbie.

And Nona tested out his ball pit to make sure it still worked. Luckily, it was big enough for two. And Robbie was happy to share.

Robbie didn’t have to share the entire time, though. Eventually, Nona got tired of the ball pit and Roberto got to play on his own.

He did get pretty worn out running all over the place…

And then there was figuring out how to make funny noises with his mouth… Nona helped him figure out how to do it.

So did Aunt Hilary.

Eventually, Robbie was making his own noises.

Leaving for Boston was rough. It always is. I hate that last hug from my mom and sister. I hate shutting the door to the house knowing that I’m leaving. Especially when I don’t know when I’ll be back. But, I’m recovering and adapting back to life in Boston – snow and all.

Yes. I was the lady with one of “those” kids on the plane. Again. Roberto was none too pleased to find himself seated on my lap for a two-hour flight from Boston to Charlotte this morning. And the man in front of us was perhaps even less pleased to find himself seated in front of a cranky nineteen-month-old. Particluarly after my darling child chucked a book at his head. After kicking and hitting his seat for well over an hour. When I offered an apology once we’d landed, his fiancee readily told me it was fine. However, the gentleman directly affected didn’t even turn around to acknowledge me. Part of me understands. Part of me wishes a child on him who does the same.

Our second flight started off much the same way, although we were fortunate enough to have a row to ourselves (only because I asked the gate agent to move us). However, Robbie found himself forced to sit in my lap for taxi, take-off, and landing. He immediately started screaming. The flight attendant offered Pringles, which I declined because I knew they would have been thrown around the plane. She came back a few moments later with a stuffed cow. Wearing a cowboy hat and bandana. That mooed three times (loudly) when squeezed. From San Antonio (I know only because that’s what the banner across the hat read). It came from a lady three rows up. The woman in front of us turned around and proceeded to play with Robbie for fifteen minutes. This cow was, without a doubt, the most hilarious thing to happen to Robbie.

He passed the rest of the time coloring, organizing my pens, throwing peanut butter crackers (donated by a lady from the first flight, desperate to stop my screaming child), and blowing kisses at the other people on the plane. It was, all in all, an extrememly successful flight. Made even more successful by its timely arrival in Lexington.

A timely arrival was paramount today. I had a ticket to the Kentucky game, which started at 4:00. My flight landed at 3:43. I was in my seat by 4:10, and Robbie was on his way to Nona’s house to take a bath and decompress from the strenuous day of travel.

The game was, in a word, amazing. They were up by twenty when I got to Rupp Arena. I saw the most exciting game I’ve seen in years. Sure, it wasn’t intense. But it was a lot more fun than the Coppin State game. Or Hartford. Or whatever no name team we saw in 2008.

Every day when we come home, I let Barkley out and leave Robbie upstairs. The whole thing takes about thirty seconds. Just long enough for a little boy to discover the heart full of candy that his mother left on a lower shelf of the baker’s rack.

It wasn’t enough that he got into the candy and double-fisted it. He took a bite out of every single piece of candy. When I came back in the kitchen, he had already sampled six piece of candy and had two others in his grubby little hands.

And would you believe me if I said he ran down the hall, candy in hand, when I asked for a bite?

It’s amazing what temperatures above 32 degrees, a good run, and a bath-time dance party can do to lift your spirits! It was, I’m sure, mostly the dance party. Robbie and I got home late (I did a full 68 minutes at the gym – clocking in five miles!), so we had a quick dinner and then it was off to the bath, with the Glee Cast station on the cell phone at full blast.

Robbie bebopped through his bath, taking time to clean his balloon thoroughly. After all, even a balloon gets dirty after three days of intense play. We practiced blowing bubbles in the tub, Rob laughing hysterically when I came up from the water with bubbles all over my face. He kissed me and leaned up against me and even let me wash his face. It’s amazing what music can do!

We jammed through teeth brushing, diapering, and pajama-putting-on. Robbie rocked out while I made my bed and picked up the third floor. He even started singing along a little bit. And then it was time to go to bed.

Robbie calmly handed me back my “pone” and cuddled up with Moo. For about thirty seconds. He was unsatisfied with the water I gave him and let me know in no uncertain terms that he wanted “nait nait” (milk). As soon as I brought him some milk, he laid down, wrapped his arm around Moo, said “lou you” and “night”. And that was that.

Now, the house is clean. Dinner has been cooked. And I have some time to read and catch up on my DVR’ed shows. Yeah. Mid-winter blahs defeated. At least until the next snow storm!

I have them. The mid-winter blahs. No real sun in recent memory. Mounds of snow on the ground. Six snow days to make up. A house I can’t air out. A husband who’s in class or study groups four to six days a week. A child who likes to color his face with my lipstick. Yup. The blahs are here.

I keep hoping that I can shake them, but nothing really seems to be working. Not the gym, where I could only run for three minutes before stopping from frustration. My bra strap kept slipping (no sports bra today), and my hair was in my face (yeah, forgot the rubber band, too). And my child wouldn’t stay in the play area. Clean house didn’t happen. I’m giving up on that for the next week or eighteen years or so.

For now, I’m going to have to look forward to Saturday morning when I get to fly home to Kentucky. Five blissful days of not being in charge. Of living in someone else’s house. Of not having a dog whine in my ear at 5:30 in the morning and then poop in the dining room anyway.

Yeah. I need a vacation. I need to pass Go, collect $200, and move right on to spring. How many days are left again?

I hate Valentine’s Day. There. I said it. I think it’s a crappy holiday. It makes you feel terrible if you’re single. It stresses you out if you’re not. It. Is. The. Worst. Holiday. Ever. It’s a day of expectations and disappointments. Even in second grade, when you’re hoping the boy you have a crush on will put a little extra note in with your Snoopy Valentine. But, no. It’s just signed the way he signed everyone else’s.

I wanted to have Valentines for Robbie to take to daycare. Maybe make some cute cookies. Put up decorations. None of it happened. Ironically, the Valentine’s decoration that was on our closet door for ten months and only taken down to put up Christmas stockings didn’t even make an appearance. And to think I’d left it up that long because I knew eventually it would be in season again…

Robbie made the morning a little brighter, though. He wanted hugs and kisses. And his balloon. When I tried to put him down, he clung to me, screaming, “Down! Down!” He still doesn’t know the word “up”… All hopes of a Valentine’s reunion at daycare were dashed, however, when he started screaming as soon as he saw me walk through the door. He had drawn me a picture, though. Unfortunately it was all in black crayon. Perfect little cupid…

Robbie was helpful at home, running in circles with a ball, a lawnmower, and, yes, his balloon. And he ate dinner with me while we watched The Berenstein Bears. Balloon in hand.

Justin made it home around 7:45 for an anti-climactic end to the worst holiday ever invented. Just enough time left to sit on the couch and listen to bad 90s music. Bah humbug.

We celebrated Valentine’s Day a little early at the Manna house this year, since Justin has a late study session tomorrow night. Even though Robbie has no idea about Valentine’s Day, I still picked up two small presents for him. I should have only bought one.

When Robbie came downstairs from his nap, his present was on the coffee table – unwrapped, of course. I might have been a day early, but there was no energy to wrapping anything. He went straight for it. There was a box of alphabet books (one for every letter). Attached to the box was a Mylar balloon. Heart shaped. Red with chocolate candy and “I love you” written on it.

Robbie grabbed the balloon, unclipped it from the box, and didn’t let it go. That balloon went all over our house; it even ventured into the basement. Robbie, Justin, and the balloon watched Star Trek. They ate dinner together. They made a mess in the living room together. And then came bath time.

Robbie took the balloon into the bath. He cried when I took his shirt off and the balloon string got caught in the sleeves. He washed his face and hair while holding onto the balloon. When I got him out of the tub, he screamed, “Ba-oon!”, reminding me that he didn’t want to leave it there. He brushed his teeth while holding onto the balloon. We barley separated the two of them to get Robbie dressed for bed.

After he was dressed, I set Robbie down. Five seconds later, and he was running all over the upstairs with his balloon. I had to do a quick rescue mission from the stairs when Robbie decided that he and the balloon needed to go downstairs just one more time.

When I put Robbie in his crib, he stood up and screamed. I assumed it had to do with the balloon, but it was me this time. He wanted to cuddle with me. And so, good mother that I am, I held Robbie on my lap and rubbed his back. We sat there, rocking, for ten minutes – Robbie, Moo the giraffe, the balloon, and me. He eventually let go of Moo. But never the balloon.

He went to sleep holding onto the balloon. I know, I know. Never let a kid go to sleep holding a balloon. I just went up and took it out of his crib – but not before snapping a few pictures!

This has been a crazy semester, and it’s only February… Justin’s taking nine hours and involved in study groups; we hardly see him during the week. And when he has a weekend class? Forget about it.

That’s why today was set aside for quality time. Yes, I forced my poor husband to spend an entire day with me. I’m not sure we were ever more than twenty feet apart. Well, other than when I left for my Jenny Craig weigh-in (2.5 pounds this week and 18.2 in six weeks!).

We started the day off with a trip to Haverhill to drop Robbie off with my friend Amy. She and her husband graciously agreed to watch Robbie while Justin and I ran (OK, OK… Half walked) a 5K in Salisbury. We spent an hour in the car each way. And my poor husband stayed with me for the entire race. He could have run it and been finished in half an hour. But, no. He stayed with me, encouraging me. Even though I yelled at him. I was so mad at myself for not doing as well as I thought I should have. We crossed the finish line at 44:30. In my defense, I’ve been trying to increase my speed and not focusing on my distance. Oh, and the last mile of the race was on the beach, which meant running on the sand. Terrible.

Despite my yelling at him, Justin was supportive and agreed to spend the rest of the day with me. We cleaned up the house, watched TV, played with Robbie. The stuff Saturdays are made of. That’s what Justin kept telling me as I struggled down the beach.

Tonight was our romantic night out. We cashed in some massage credits at Massage Envy and then tried to make it to a movie in Lexington. Apparently, though, they lock the doors to the theatre once the movie starts. So, no movie for us. That left plenty of time for coffee, since our dinner reservations weren’t for another two hours.

I’ve sometimes worried that Justin and i will run out of things to talk about. At what point will we know everything? When will all the interesting topics be exhausted? I was glad to learn that it wasn’t tonight. It felt so good to get out of the house and just be together. Enjoy each other’s company. Talk about anything and everything.

Yes, there are times my husband drives me up the wall. Like when he fed Barkley the filet I brought home for him and took all the credit for it. But I’m so fortunate to still be so in love with him. And even more fortunate that he’s still so in love with me.

And, I know this is a silly request… If you read the blog regularly, please feel free to become a follower. I’d love to know who’s reading!

Roberto loves to color. Especially all over his face, which is what he did this morning with my eyeliner while Justin was in the shower. You’ve seen than he loves to color all over his face with Sharpie when he can find one. And today, something I’ve been waiting for for a long time happened. Robbie really discovered coloring on paper.

Sure, he’s colored on paper before, but he usually loses interest after a few strokes of the pen. Or crayon. Or eyeliner. You get my drift. Not today, though.

When I got to daycare today, Robbie ran to the door to greet me and then took off to the back room. Zhining told me to come back and see what QiQi was up to. I ventured back, and stood in the doorway to watch for a few minutes. There was my son, seated at a table, coloring a picture for me.

I watched quietly for a few minutes and then Robbie turned around to see if I was watching, with that big grin spread across his face. He turned around and went back to coloring. After all, you can’t leave daycare for the weekend without finishing your clown.

Maybe you’ll think it’s silly, but for the past 17 months I’ve seen the artwork for the big kids waiting by their bags to go home to proud parents and hang on the refrigerator. I thought about the day Robbie would color a picture for me. And it finally happened. I have my picture. And it’s a creepy clown…