My mom and sister were here visiting and spoiling the girl this weekend. My mom kept accidentally calling my daughter's cankles "chunkles" and a new nickname was born! One day I'll be paying for therapy for the kid (because her other nickname so far? Smudge. We don't do "princess" around here, kiddos), but for now? Making up words to describe the zillion levels of cuteness that is a chunky baby is REALLY fun.
While the fam was here we did something so cool … we went on a whalewatching cruise!! None of us have ever done that before and apparently it's the season for whale migration over here on the Pacific coast so we totally went for it (despite the fact that I get SO ridiculously motion sick). I thought that even if we didn't actually see anything, it would be a lot of fun to go cruising. And it was! I ate a huge, naughty bag of cheese popcorn (I got a little BUZZED on the 16 grams of fat), we played "I'm the king of the world!!!!!" and took lots of fun pictures.
And you know what? WE SAW WHALES!
That thing there in the middle? THAT'S A WHALE! It was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen in my life. I nearly forgot that in the middle of the two-hour cruise I seriously felt like I was gonna barf. I told myself that I'd made it through PREGNANCY, and therefore I needed to just suck it up, drink a little Sprite and move on. And that worked for about ten minutes until I heard my husband yelling for me from somewhere on the back of the boat.
Because apparently? My daughter inherited my crappy equilibrium.
Let me set this up: Because I am a total klutz we decided that it would be best for John to wear Sydney in the Bjorn while we were on the boat. She was a bit sleepy and we were hoping that she'd catch a nap. She'd had a bottle, was all bundled up and warm, and was very content. That is until we had about thirty minutes left in our trip, that is.
When I found John in the galley area (where we'd left the stroller and diaper bag) I couldn't immediately tell that there was anything wrong except by the bewildered look on his face. He couldn't really verbally express to me what was wrong so I got a little panicked. Then he started unpacking Sydney from the Bjorn. OH. MY. STARS.
The only way to describe the mess is this: Take a large container of cottage cheese. Microwave. Dump between baby and husband in Bjorn. I really have never seen anything like that IN MY LIFE. Every item of clothing my husband and child were wearing was coated in recycled formula. John had on a shirt with a front pocket and, yep, the pocket (as well as the rest of the front of him) was full of throwup. He somehow got her out of the Bjorn and handed her to me and it took about 1 nanosecond for me to start yelling "Someone better bring me a Sprite RIGHT NOW OR I AM GOING TO BARF I AM NOT KIDDING." Because? Long before we got married it was decided that John would be Team Barf and I would be Team Poop because other people's barf MAKES ME GAG. Never-the-less I tipped back the seat in the stroller and stripped my daughter buck naked while the OTHER seasick passengers looked on in horror (we were near the bathrooms, and I saw at least one person hurl off the back of the boat while we were cleaning the girl up, hee hee). Chunkles just laughed and hollered with joy as I wiped her down with baby wipes and dressed her in clean clothes. My husband stood there in his soaked undershirt and just had to laugh while he stuffed everything into plastic bags that the snack bar lady hurriedly forked over the counter to us. My sister and mom giggled with the baby and congratulated her on a job well done. It totally upstaged the whales. Sorry, whales!!
Then we saw dolphins right outside our window. It was so cool!
So we got all packed up, the boat finally docked, and we headed across the street to the gift shop at Bubba Gump's and bought John a t-shirt and sweatshirt (we really should travel with a change of clothes for him … he ALWAYS gets nailed!) and had a blast at dinner. I have never had so much fun when there's so much barf involved!
Until we had to fish the parking garage ticket out of the barf-pocket of John's shirt.
And then we got home and found that one of the dogs had stolen and eaten AN ENTIRE LOAF OF BREAD off the counter … and then barfed it up ALL OVER THE HOUSE. Awesome. We spent the rest of the night Swiffering, cleaning carpet, washing puke laundry and doubled-over, freaking-out, laughing about our day.
Nice to have a reprieve from the usual poop story, huh? HA!