‘Twas mostly good. We left early on Thanksgiving morning and got to Palm Springs in exactly two hours. I had no idea it only took that long. We’re usually either stuck in traffic or shopping at the Cabazon outlets. Or both. But when you travel with a toddler you can’t fuck around. He was awake and happy the entire ride, reading books and eating gluten free pretzels. We did not stop.

This is how Ian plays Apples To Apples.



We had fun with Aunt Angie and cousins Grant and Gannon. Then it was nap time, and he was in no mood to rest in a strange place with all these new exciting people, and noise. We tried and tried and tried to no avail. He was in good spirits tho. I was cooking and he was frolicking with guests and consumed what I conservatively guess was 500 honey wheat pretzel sticks. Gluten full. Then it was dinner time. Yea, he didn’t care. I got zero bites of food in him and he had a full meltdown in his highchair. Perfect timing. We thought, okay, now he’s really tired, and tried to put him down again. Nope.

I took him outside and that went well (that’s my solution for everything, take him outside, I get that from my dad-thanks, dad), then I had a thought. It was around 6pm and I thought we’ll put on some Curious George and he’ll zone out until we can get ready to go to sleep. That didn’t work. He wanted to watch George all right, but he wanted to watch George with a boob and that wasn’t going to happen in front of company, so he fussed a lot. It was the longest afternoon I can remember, and I’m sure it wasn’t him as much as it was me resenting that I’d had no break that day, which I’d started at 5am and I wanted to be selfish and binge on sugar in peace. Instead, I ate a S’mores bar in the bathroom where Ian couldn’t climb me.

The beginning of my two-day affair with the Smore’s Bars. I think I had about twelve. I’m not kidding.

After a peaceful night’s sleep (yay!), I met the day with some trepidation. What would we do all day with him? What would his mood be like? He woke up with a wet cough and no other symptoms on Thanksgiving morning so that was a wild card as well. The day turned out to be perfect. Breakfast out (an entire side of bacon scarfed by Ian in less than five minutes), croquet in the park (which we’ve come a long way with-we tried to play with him in August and it was meant with great torment-this time around he was focused and patient with himself), nice long nap, Christmas fun at The Living Desert, and a late evening dinner at Las Casuelas. He did great the whole day! The biggest lesson I’ve learned in parenting is to never give up trying. If something is a disaster once, you could do it again and it’s the best thing ever. Go with your gut, and be brave. Hmmm maybe I should hit up The Magic Forest again. Gulp.

Walking to breakfast.
Mastering croquet.
Cousin Grant liked to carry Ian around. Um, love.


The Living Desert with daddy. Yes, no one ever offers to take a picture of me. Yes, I’m bitter.

We’re back home now a little fatter, a little exhausted, and very grateful to have family to celebrate the madness with.

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