Nora's the coolest and her parents are the laziest.

You’ll have to excuse the tardiness of the blog today (cue Van Halen: I don’t feel tardy…) due to my inability to hold facts, dates, or appointments in my brain or on my phone.

You know when a good time to remember when you’re working the next morning is not? The middle of the night. A good, cold shock of adrenaline really starts the week off correctly. Hence the stellar packing of All Things Nora and the less than ideal packing of All Thing Keely, for example, a fully charged laptop.

But the important trifecta of Doc Bullfrog, a spare diaper, and a cup of milk made into the bag…so what else does one really need? (Besides a nitro tablet for my kickstarted heart.)

Yes. So. The weekend.

We enjoyed the most boring weekend known to man. It was fabulous. The amount of sleep that I got was kinda impressive. (P.J. and Nora? Not so much. But it's really hard to tell the floppy-headed mother figure on the kitchen floor that she CANNOT nap. Physiological terrorism at its finest.)

Nora rode an incredibly miniature tricycle for the first time.  Even though there were no pedals and she wasn't even rolling, she managed to flip over the handlebars and faceplant on the pavement. (She's just like both of her parents already!) Impressively, she laughed. Even more impressively, she tucked her head and shoulders just right. (Not like her parents there at all.)

Motorin'.

Last night also marked the second occasion wherein she used a potty for its intended purpose. Quite by accident, I'm certain (the shock on our faces was eclipsed by the shock on hers), but STILL. Not since college have I been more pleased to know that a toilet was being used.

To celebrate, we built her a castle tent. Okay, fine, we had already bought the tent. (But it's so cool!) And, to give credit where credit is due- her father, he of coupon-clipping, penny-pinching fame, found it on Kids Woot. And informed me that his daughter needed it. Which, once I saw it, I admitted that she really did.

Password?

And last night brought a thunderstorm of monsoon proportions. This, of course, after a grey day that threatened storms but brought nary a drop. It stayed rather dark and in the mid 50s to 60s. Then, as soon as the sun went down, the temp skyrocketed to 76 degrees. So, of course we went out into the backyard and enjoyed the peace and quiet of our bench...with sirens, irate neighbors, and traffic. (I closed my eyes and pretended they were waves on the shoreline. Really noisy, irate waves.)

And then the rain came. But no worries, by then we were safely ensconced in bed and watching Mad About You, season 2 on Netflix. (Anyone who tells you that marriage isn't awesome is a terrible, rotten liar.) And we got to see the sideways rain and pelting branches from the safety of our [closed] windows. Neighborhood Watch goes tropical!

The past couple of days also included a French farce (on Netflix) and an hour of radio (on NPR.) Sometimes it's nice to just consume all of your monthly media in one weekend. (I haven't even included the flicks that P.J. watched a) before Nora and I awoke, b) while he was waiting for me to watch our real movie, and c) that I boycotted but he viewed anyhow while Nora napped.)

I think we can see who has the real problem.

And it's not the girl who marathons episodes of Ghost Adventures.

There's no problem there.