I'm still in denial. Rhett is 2.

I have a two year old. When I fill out his paperwork at daycare I can no longer write 23 months. I just write 2 years. What the hell? How did that happen? 

I remember like it was yesterday that I was laying in bed and Chad was crunching on stale fritos. I was getting so sick of the heavy dog breath on me that I decided to humor them by giving in to their chip addictions and then BAM. Broken water. 

I then decided that I wanted to shower and shave my legs before going to the hospital. 

So I did. 

I also called my Dad on his cell phone to alert him to the fact that my water broke. 

Words fathers are so very fond of hearing I'm sure. 

I called my boss to let him know I wouldn't be at the C.A.R.E. fair that following day because I'd be busy giving birth. 

Words bosses are so fond of hearing I'm sure. 

And then we had a baby. Just like that. 

Now that baby is 2. Just like that.

And so despite my denial, I managed to throw a little birthday bash with just the 3 of us (plus dog).

I hung a 1 Euro birthday banner and we walked to the blumen field for 60 Euro cent sunflowers.

We had water fun and Rhett was allowed to play with the hose until his heart was content (and till the grass was utterly saturated).

Meatloaf chose not to celebrate this evening but instead hide behind the BBQ and hope that a rib or two would fall to his paws.

Chad got in the birthday spirit although I'm not sure if it was for himself or for Rhett. We definitely had to have a conversation about developmentally appropriate toys. I felt it important to remind Chad that his son is 2, not 15. Especially when he gave Rhett an Ipad. 

Yes, this is a true story. 

 
We had to recreate this moment twice because Chad nor I realized that Rhett knew how to blow out a candle and we had just barely broken into our 'Happy Birthday' number.

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And then because I'm Mom of the Year, I let my daycare provider throw him a wonderful birthday party complete with traditional Filipino cuisine (which totally blew our birthday celebration out of the water).

This shows Rhett with an entire lumpia shoved in his mouth. One of about 8 that I saw him consume during this birthday lunch. Whatever, kid, it's your birthday. Knock yourself out.

Happy Birthday, Boogie. 

We just love you to pieces. 

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Oh and I promise to stop telling you the story of your birth very soon. 

It should be out of my system shortly.

I like to compare Chad's homecoming to a hurricane.

It doesn't matter how much you prepare.... destruction is inevitable. 

Laundry will be strewn around your house for no apparent reason.
Clean, dirty, not sure? Chad is an equal opportunity destroyer. 

Since he lost 20 lbs. while at OCS he also has taken to eating much like a 16 year old pubescent boy. Anything and everything that comes within a foot of his face is fair game. My bi-weekly grocery shopping and meal planning has been thrown out the window and now it's just a matter of survival. I'm at the store every other day and constantly thinking of ways to curb my husband's insatiable hunger. 

Besides the laundry and the grocery bill, the most annoying part of Chad's being home is that my bathrooms remain in a perpetual state of nastiness and there is no explanation for this. How a grown man makes a bigger mess than a woman and toddler combined is beyond me. It must be one of those Mars versus Venus things because in the almost 10 years I've known Chad this has never made sense.

Despite Hurricane Chad's path of laundry, refrigerator and toilet destruction... he's still home and that makes Rhett, Meatloaf and myself very happy. 

Plus, I'm almost on top of the laundry situation. 

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Another plus now that Chad is home is that we can go places where two parents are way better than one. Like the Zoo. 

The last time Chad and I went to the zoo it was sans children. It was a lot more fun this time with Rhett except that as we approached every new animal enclosure Rhett would scream "MINE!" and refuse to leave thus resulting in a little bit of a wrestling match between him and Daddy. That part wasn't very awesome.

Other than that, Rhett loved the zoo and it was a great way to spend a family afternoon.

I think this is what happiness must be for a pig. Total and utter pig bliss. After I took this photo, Chad told me we needed to leave to go see "real zoo animals." He's such a buzz kill.

Only a man would buy a nearly two year old wearing a white shirt a chocolate popsicle. Really?

22 weeks

Wilhelma Zoo

I think this place is great despite it's 12 Euro per adult entrance fee because it's beautiful, 

they let you bring in your own food, 

and it's open 365 days a year which is like the

 rarest of things in Germany. 

Saturday

Sometimes it calls to me. In the early and quiet of a Saturday morning I get a little rumble deep in my belly. It can't be ignored, you see? It's there even before my feet hit the ground and I can still hear it over the chatter of the almost two year old in the next room over. 

It doesn't say anything profound. 

It simply says... 

go to the bakery. 

And so we do. 

Bundled up and with umbrella in hand... we slowly walk down the wet sidewalk to our local bakery where we pick up a few treats to satisfy that rumble in the depths of one's belly. 

It's a wonderful way to start a gray Saturday. 

Something tells me Rhett may have felt that familiar rumble too. 

It's the little things.

This box entertained Rhett for 3 days. 

It was awesome. 

Hamburg Fish Market and other stuff.

I had 5 consecutive days off last week with the holiday. I love when that happens. 

Unfortunately, we mostly stayed home, ate pasta salad and did some much needed yard work. 

We hit up our local grocery store for fresh strawberries and other impulse purchases (maybe something along the lines of two types of popsicles and cookies... all of which quietly sit in my kitchen taunting me). We managed some healthy meals awhile back when I cooked up my Thanksgiving in July (or was it June? I can't remember now). I've since gotten back in the groove of cooking and I like to think that Rhett can now truly appreciate my cooking talents after a first trimester of "how many times can I safely serve my child macaroni & cheese, turkey sandwiches, or scrambled eggs this week?" 

This weekend, however, I decided we needed to get out for some fresh air. The weather here in Stuttgart is still pretty unpredictable and no online resource has been able to successfully inform us of what weather to expect so it's a hit or miss every day. 

After Rhett's nap on Friday, the clouds parted and the sun was shining so I quickly loaded him into the car and headed for downtown to the Hamburg Fish Market.  Even though we hit a stau ten minutes from our house we eventually made it downtown and quickly found ourselves scoping out the many stalls for something that would appeal to us. 

If you remember last year, it was a fried food fantasy which I regretted very much that evening. 

It's not really our fault, you see, because apparently Germans love them some fried fish. Potatoes. Cakes. Calamari. Etc. 

It's really hard to escape.

This year we started with the wild potatoes and garlic sauce because I craved them all day (fried). 

Then we went for something sweet.... a vanilla cake. Tasted more like a cream filled donut, yum (fried). 

I decided at that point that we needed something healthy... in other words... not fried so it was then that Rhett and I decided on the salmon flammkuchen (pizza). 

 I honestly could not believe how much Rhett was able to eat. He ate the pizza, the salmon, the onions... everything. It was amazing. 

It was even more amazing that he wanted grapes as soon as we got home. 

Bottomless pit I tell you. 

It was a lovely little break from our norm and even though it was just Rhett and I, neither one of us minded. We're getting pretty good at this "just the two of us" and hey, it meant more flammkuchen for each of us. 

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