Don't Mind If I Do.

Jared and P.J. were there, too.

(See what I did there? I do? Get it- weddings? Ah HAH. Marriage humor.)

So Peej and I have just returned from Napa and the glorious wedding of our two pals, Annie and Jared. Here are some summed-up highlights (for to give each terrific day the review it truly deserves would cause Blogger to wonder if they should charge me more):

Our bed and breakfast, the Wine Way Inn, was RAD. We stayed in the Oakville room, there was always a bottle of wine decanted in the sitting area, the breakfast was gourmet and at least eleven courses, we had a private terrace that expanded onto a public terrace that worked its way up to a treehouse, and I got to sleep in as late as I wanted. (Sure, I had bridesmaid-y duties and my internal clock/Mom alarm didn't really allow much more than 8am- but dude! I got to sleep until 8am!!)

The rehearsal and reception took place at Hans Fahden Vineyard. Which is a kinda nice mix of Narnia, Terabithia and a postcard of a vineyard- you know, the type of place you see in an ad that makes you scoff, wondering how daft they think we are that we believe those places exist? (Those places exist!) We rehearsed for the ceremony at a little bend in a rock wall that overlooked a fish pond, vineyards and hills. The gals entered from a covered bridge that was surrounded by some very Alice In Wonderland-y pockets of nature. (The coordinator warned us not to go off of the path, however, since there were some recent rattlesnake sightings. I'm not sure if this was to keep the children in check- or to get me to stop wandering off and babbling about like a loon about the charm. Either way- path= 1, off the path= 0.)

The rehearsal din was at a "beer garden." Except, replace "beer garden" with "magical fairy light secret garden with marscapone thingies on trays!" And guess whose husband decided to try out the ridiculously tall mojito at the bar? That's right, folks. Mine. That started an unfortunate trend of other people trying out the mojito at the bar...and then we had the kind of scene that can only occur when people are drinking really tall mojitos. I've already said too much. But, Point One- the bartender was a member of The Guild. We had no idea what that meant, but it sounded important and we trusted his judgement. And Point Two- there may have been some dancing in the attached bar for Reggae Night, and there may have been a time when I cornered the DJ and informed him that not only did I NOT like reggae (at all) but that I really did kinda want to hear some hair metal and classic rock. Now. I think we all know who won that round.

The AC/DC air guitar champ, that's who.

And now, a side note about Max. He's Annie's three year old nephew (I'm pretty sure he's three.) He's a ball of awesome loaded with sugar and coated with grass stains. Peej and I really dug Max. Here are some of his gems:

-"Is she a boy?" [in reference to a vineyard pup]

-"She smells like FUR!" [happily, in regards to same pup]

-"My BOOBIES are falling!" [racing around the bride's room, in a poor attempt to attach the bride's strapless bra to himself]

-"Not off the path, there are rattlesnakes!" [announced mere seconds before he was to walk down the aisle as a ringbearer, and moments after he announced that he had to pee- badly- and couldn't hold it. They ceremony waited.]

Also worth a side note: Our darling little Aveo. Rental car companies love to give us Aveos. (There are actually only fifteen in the world. We've driven them all.) P.J. made an aside that he loves economy cars- not because they're affordable- but because they're Good For The Environment. Like he's putting the 'eco' in economy. He still hasn't cracked a smile on that one, so I'm only half sure he's kidding. Another clue he may not be into saving the world? As we were leaving San Fran, a guy with a long white beard decided to make his own crosswalk- and Peej muttered that Santa was about get to run over by an Aveo. Oh, we laughed and laughed. (I swear to God he's a good person.)

Back to the romance.

The wedding day was perfection; sunny but not crazy warm, people mostly being where they ought, and a cool as a cucumber bride with a checklist three miles long. And I am not in the least ashamed to admit that, when I saw Annie being walked down the aisle by her Dad, I wept with all the grace of a toddler. There was some sniffling, a snort or two. More than a little runny makeup. I cared not- their vows were beautiful. And having gotten to know the fam and other close friends and seeing EVERYONE react the same way...it was simply a great wedding.

And the reception! After a neato unveiling of the room where we'd be dining- accompanied by Europe's 'The Final Countdown' (Jared! Yes!)- we were escorted into a wine cellar that was outfitted like a different kind of Narnia/Terabithia wonderland. (Clearly, the apex of my happiness can be achieved by simulating children's books.)

Best dinner ever.

Best slide show ever. (Again, more Ugly Crying. What is WRONG with me?)

Best first dance/parents' dance/new friends/old friends/tipsy friends dancing.

Brunch the next day at a spot so pretty that, had I known, I would've camped out with Annie and Jared the night before. (Hi guys!)

And then- AND THEN- OMG vineyards. Like, Napa vineyards. Where they letcha drink the wine. We met up with some darlin' pals at A. Rafanelli Winery and entered with a secret code. (I live for stuff like that.) Not only were we given wine glasses the size of globes and strict instructions to 'catch up,' but we were then taken on a private tour of the rooms where they were pressing the grapes and storing them in 1k apiece oak barrels [Nat: "As you do..."] And we got to taste grape foam! And stick our heads in barrels and almost pass out from a C02 blast that nearly exploded our nostrils! And see the Prohibition Era washbin that started it all! (As another gal on our tour announced tipsily, "It's like Willy Wonka- BUT BETTER.")

And there were more vineyards. And vintage stores. And naps. And dinner at Mustard's, a fancy schmancy bit of awesomeness- which we took to calling Moutarde's- that we discovered on the Food Network. That seems to be our thing, lately. And it was really, really good. All of it. Except, maybe not the girl passed out on the parking lot dividers. She wasn't so awesome. But her friends were there to make sure she wasn't too drunk. And to cheer on the game of some sort they were watching on the bar area's TV. Go sports. 

Of course, we had to have one last drink with the bride and groom- at the site of the first evening's revelry. I had a Diet Coke. This led Annie to believe that I was dying. (She has never seen anything like that in my possession at a bar.) 

When it was time to go, I hugged her for a million years. It hit me that this pal, this terrific friend and massive part of my life, really lived in California now. With her husband. (And their two cats, but that's a different story.) And I was SO excited to be going home to my bitsy gal (whom I missed like an amputated arm- did I mention I cried on the flight out? Maybe I have a hormone imbalance) but the thought of not seeing Annie for every single event in my life, inconsequential or huge, was gonna be HARD. 

But you know what made it easier? Knowing how happy she was. And how well taken care of she was gonna be. And I really can't mention the happy part enough. They're gonna be blissfully married for the rest of their lives and I got to play a small part in it. That's forever, too. And so I'm content and a little weepy and grateful and kinda tired and stoked and fearful of my American Express bill. 

And wondering if I even know the meaning of "summing up."

Vacation + Blogging= Vlog!

(That IS what it stands for, yeah?)

So, in light of the fact that I am currently in Napa for the wedding of two darling friends...here's something kinda sorta completely different.

A Vlog that Nora and I recorded last week. You're welcome. And...if you hate it...

...I'm sorry. (But you won't.)

love, Keely
(p.s. This is the most still my child has ever been. Ever.)

I think we all know who really needs the night light.

Let's take a trip down memory staircase, shall we?

I love you, Graco. Give me another chance. 

If you'll recall, a few weeks back I [accidentally] chucked my beloved monitor down the stairs with all the grace (and holding back) of an irate bison. Shockingly, it broke.

Even more shockingly, kismet and the kind souls at Graco sent me a brand new digital monitor to try for free- if I'd be so kind as to write a few words about it. (I have arrived. Maybe I should break something bigger next time?)

So. The Graco Direct Connect digital monitor. Lights, sound, temperature, vibration, a 'talk' option to the nursery- a belt clip. It showed up, all shiny and full of promise. Nora and I were understandably excited. While I figured out the charging action and gave the directions a cursory glance, she made short work of the packaging. 

I decided to go about my review the way that I tend to treat new techie purchases in my life: flying by the seat of my pants and seeing just how "user friendly" the product really is. The results?

I should really start reading the directions. For I'm rather below average on the user error scale. 

The first night we had it, Peej and I had a glass of wine outside after Nora fell asleep and brought the monitor to the backyard. The audio was crystal clear- granted, her bedroom was directly above us a couple of floors, but still. Crystal clear. At one point I wanted to check the temp in her room and pressed the button for light to see what the display read (it was pretty dark out, after all.) Nothing happened. Pressed it again. Turns out, I had been activating various levels of a night light on her monitor. Whoops! 

Later that night as I was charging the jobber, it crackled slightly. And once every now and again it would cut out for the shortest of milliseconds. Then again, I also have an iPhone in the city of Chicago. Slight gaps in communication shouldn't phase me at all. 

On to the temperature gauge. I REALLY like this action. I am, in no small manner, obsessed with this feature.  Glancing over and knowing in an instant if Nora needs an extra blankie or a cracked open window? Rad. Although I do bug Peej with the slightest temperature fluctuation- and he reminds me each and every time that she survived July in the city. (This makes me feel like a bad parent, retroactively. And presently. Maybe even a little bit for the future.)

The 'talk to baby' option is hilarity incarnate. I love walkie talkies. Always have. (Kate and I used to rock them in bedrooms that shared a wall. "Can you hear me?" The NEIGHBORS could.) That said, Nora hasn't needed my soothing voice over the intercom- yet- but I can totally see it having future uses as she gets older: "Make smart choices, Nora Jane." "...God?" "...Yes." Also, my voice sounds really good over this monitor. This is neat. 

The size of the parent base is slightly bigger than my palm. A good size for something that you'll be hefting around in the evenings and at naptime- especially if you use the belt clip. Which I currently am. Granted, I still miss the incredibly teensy size of my lamented mini Graco. I kinda liked having an object that made me feel like I lived In The Future. However, this trumps the smaller one insomuch as it looks like it could totally take a fall down some steps. (I'll let you know, eh- in about a month. That's my rate of household incidences these days.)

Nora and I decided to road-test it. With the nursery base on, we took a stroll down to the corner pub. Not in, mind you. (It was closed.) Sadly, the monitor only had range past the neighbor's house. But still- that's awesome. Especially if you consider that our home is on a double lot and her room was 2.5 floors up. In the back. Through brick. And lots of stuffed animals. Then we took it into the backyard, past the garden, through the garage and into the alley. Total range. Which is great for those times when- wait a sec. I will never ever be alone in this alley. Ever. Especially not at night. Not even with a glowy monitor to protect me. 

But I could be, and that's my point.

So then I took a look at the actual spex for this monitor. (A good time for it, no? After I've taken it all over the neighborhood and used it for two straight nights?) Beside the features I've mentioned, here's what else it does:

-If Nora cries (not that uncommon of an occurrence), a bar on top of the parent unit lights up to the degree of her yells. (It can go up pretty high. So can she.) It also vibrates, much like her head and body do in the midst of a [rare] tantrum. 

-There's an out-of-range [2000 feet!] alarm. Like for when you're at the bar. (KIDDING, MOM. I just said it didn't reach that far.)

-I cannot mention the belt clip enough. I love to accessorize.

-The 900MHZ frequency means there's no other gadgety interference. (Although, again, in Chicago, this cannot be said 100% of anything. Not even on an Etch-A-Sketch.)

-There's a parent unit finder button on the nursery base. This is clutch! I lose things much bigger than this thing all the time. (I initially read it as "parent finder." That would be unnecessary in this household. Her other parent is the one who gave her that giant grin and furrowed brow. He's been "found." Unless they mean a Search Out P.J. function. Like if he's at the bar.)

-The digital technology on this baby is secure, ensuring that no one can listen in on my kiddo's shrieks of dismay. (Whatever. It's my feeling that if Nora has teething pain, we should all teething pain. Especially my neighbors.)

I'm pretty stoked with this baby monitor. It does the job very well- and has enough new stuff to make me feel futuristic. (That is important.)

The only slight design flaw is the lack of lighting on the parent unit display. It's a pretty sad state of affairs when, at 2am, I have to read the monitor from the light of my phone. (But at least there's no interference!) Maybe the lesson is that I should stop checking the temp in her room at 2am. 

Or at the very least stop hitting the light bulb button.

The mini nursery rave is very distracting, and she's trying to sleep.

Nora got to choose a punkin'. We didn't COMPLETELY abandon her.

Did they leave me AGAIN?

I've pretty much guaranteed that P.J. will never again leave the house- for real this time.

Saturday was innocuous enough; a few errands and appointments and general loafishness. It was Sunday that hit him like a ton of bricks. 

Over coffee (mine), Ovatine (Peej's) and Costco waffles (all Nora's- she doesn't even begin to think about sharing those), I made a list. A little list. Of stuff we HAD to get done before this coming week. And before the winter. Or really the shank of the Fall. And certainly before we left our daughter for four and a half days. 

P.J. agreed. Warily. Because, sadly, there is no "right" answer. (You're either on board with the overhaul or against my personal freedoms.)

So I sent him out to Home Depot (where everybody knows your naaaaame...) and I got to work. You see, regardless of the heaps of laundry, personal correspondence or the positively Sisyphean battle of child-proofing left to do...I had a little thorn in my side called the Storage Room.

It should not have been called the Storage Room. It's actually a second kitchen, on the lower level. Same size as our main kitchen, huge picture windows, enough room in which to house a bouncy castle. (Ooh!) But it has been a way station for building supplies, actual storage, and friends' furniture. And it was filthy. And more than a little musty. And- most importantly of all- the paint was awful.

SO. Despite all of the tasks looming before me, I'd decided that I could not live another day without putting new paint on those walls. Cinchy. 

Trouble was, to even get to the walls, I needed to remove an entire Home Depot's worth of oak doors, baseboards and planking, and random pieces of wood that WE ABSOLUTELY NEED, KEELY. 

During Nora's first nap, I secured the cats in the laundry area, propped open the side door, and lugged a potentially unwise amount of heavy lumber up the stairs and into the backyard. (Once there? Who cares? It's like I tell my Littles- if we don't find places for your toys, maybe we should put them in the yard? Where other kids might like them and want to put them away? Honestly, the best case scenario would've been if someone robbed our yard then and there.) I got some serious elbow splinters and more than one ugly scrapes from broken hardware. The neighbors think I'm totally crazy. Crazier.

Side note- Did I mention my tetanus shots aren't up to date? I have a bit of a sulfa allergy. Not sure whether it's worse to be violently ill for a week or get TETANUS, but we may soon find out. 

The look on P.J.'s face when he returned home was one of shock (How did you CARRY all of that?) and dismay (So- we're doing this?) And I kept on keeping on: scrubbing, degreasing (did I mention it was an olllllld kitchen?) and paint-taping until my fingers threatened to fall off. And this was just the prep work. 

Long story kinda short, I finished up at 10pm. (Fun tip: Find a paint edger at around 8:30pm. Then you'll realize how much of your edging/paint taping/finger misery was rendered completely superfluous! Seriously. Then go back and re-edge the entire room in- oh, about five minutes. Then- and this part is really important- jab out your eye with a corner of the paint edger in protest of your lost afternoon.)

And I fully realize that the cleaning and organizing frenzy of which has consumed the past month is solely due to the fact that I am freaking out over my impending trip. (Not the trip so much- that part will be AWESOME- but the leaving of my kiddo.) So yeah, nothing has been done in terms of actual Stuff We Needed To Get Done...but hey, at least Nora has a rec room in which to console herself over the lack of clean clothes/secured cabinets. In "spring morn" [green], no less. 

That sorta makes up for your parents jaunting off to northern California for awhile, doesn't it?

Doesn't it?

(p.s. Please go vote for her on the left-hand side! The sting of bad parenting is easily soothed by a huge prize from Baby Gap.) 

Her therapist thanks you.