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Wil and I took Ari on a last minute camping trip this weekend. Okay, to be fair, it wasn't true camping, it was more like staying in a cabin in the woods. This trip was important to me because I'm 32 weeks pregnant, and this would be the last trip that would include just the three of us. I wanted Ari to have some special time with me and Wil before the new baby arrives.Here are some pictures from our journey in no particular order of importance:

I'd like to introduce you to my new best friend: She's really cool. Ari likes her too:Well, to be fair, we first met two years ago, when I was pregnant with Ari. Maybe that's why he likes her so much. But then we lost touch. We've recently reunited. Have you guys ever met?

This morning, after I finally managed to get Ari to wear a hat because it was cold outside, we set out for the playground. When we arrived there at 9:30am, I found a disarming surprise: the playground was locked.This seemed odd to me, since I've been to this playground way before 9:30am before. So I did what any other concerned citizen would do, I called 311. For those of you who don't live in NYC, 311 is a general NYC information line.The 311 operator informed me that according to the NYC Parks Department, playgrounds and parks are supposed to open from 6am- 1am unless the playground or park specifies otherwise. Outside of this particular playground there was a large set of rules:The only thing that this sign specifies (in terms of hours) is that the playground closes at dusk. So, by default, the playground should have been open at 6am! Ari was displeased.As I was on the phone with my friendly 311 operator, Adriana, another mom approached the locked playground gate with her toddler in a stroller."It's locked." I whispered to her, still on the phone with Adriana from 311."Again?!" She said visibly annoyed. "Everyday this happens. Sometimes the guy [...]

Today was supposed to be a rather simple day, except that everything became increasingly complicated once I woke up.Ari slept in til 9:00am. We needed to go to Target to use a diaper coupon. When I realized what time it was I rushed out of bed, quickly fed him and myself, downed some coffee and attempted to dress him in the kitchen. He refused to get dressed."I don't want the blue one!" He said pointing at the long sleeved blue shirt I was attempting to put over his head. "I want black and white!" He continued gesturing at the black and white striped sweater that I'd planned to layer over the dreaded blue shirt.I kindly explained that he had to put the blue shirt on first before wearing the sweater. He tried to protest, but I ignored his whining and threw the clothes over his head while he continued to scream.The plan was to go to Target, get diapers and then head to the library for story time where we would meet up with his friend Miles.As soon as we got out of the house he asked:"Where's Miles?""We're going to see him in about a half hour," I said grinding [...]

One cookie means the absence of a nap. It also means the absence of my sanity. It means Ari threw a ball in my face and laughed while I cried. It means that I watched, hopelessly exhausted, as my sugar high 2 1/2 year old ran up and down the hallway and in and out of rooms searching for weapons of destruction and items to destroy. One cookie means that both cats were victims of domestic violence as Ari bludgeoned them with his tiny blue plastic toddler chair.Finally, one cookie means that (for the time being) should future cookies enter this house, they will be consumed by me and only me.From now on Ari will be eating these:

On November 12th, I got one of those ominous cards. The kind that tell you that a package could not be delivered to you because you weren't home. I find this hard to believe since I am home a fair amount of the time, and if I'm not, I have a ton of neighbors in my building that would gladly answer the buzzer and sign for the package.Anyway, I dreaded the inevitable. Going to the Post Office. I decided to face my fear and just go. So I bundled Ari up and headed for the government building with the long lines. Surprisingly, when we got there, I waited for under five minutes, and I was handed this package:As I left the Post Office, grateful for the short wait, I read the return label and saw who it was from: an awesome mama blogger friend of mine, Statia! All of a sudden I knew exactly what was inside.I got home and ripped open the package. It was:I just have to share with you two of my favorite items from this package:And this dress:Thank you so much Statia! I love the clothes! Check out Statia's hilarious dark humored blog, Failure to Nap, [...]

Ari was taking a nap today, so I took it upon myself to do the same. While he was napped on one couch, I took the other.A little while later, I made it to dreamland...or so I thought.I woke up shortly after I dozed off to the sounds of snoring. Who could that be? I sleepily thought? It was far too loud to be Ari, and the only other person in the room was me. I quickly stopped pondering about this mystery snorer and went back to sleep.At once I was awoken again! This time I realized that snoring sounds were coming from none other than...me! Yes, that's right, I managed to snore loud enough to wake myself up.

It's been four days of madness around here. Every night for the past three nights Ari has woken up between 3-4am with 103 fever. Last night the fever was accompanied by a disturbing wheezing sound. We took him to the doctor today and he was diagnosed with Croup. It makes sense because his cough sounds like a barking dog. This sort of cough is consistent with Croup.Needless to say, it's been extremely difficult to get him back to sleep at night and during the day for naps. So what am I thankful for right now? This:I haven't showered in four days, and I've been a chicken soup-making machine*, but I don't care. I just want him to get better already.Have your kids had croup? Do tell!*I make my chicken soup from scratch, if you want the recipe email me at oldschoolnewschoolmom@oldschoolnewschoolmom.com

I woke up in the middle of the night to find Ari staring at me. He was asleep in my bed (as usual) and I knew something was wrong. I felt his back and it was warm. After tossing and turning quite a bit (both of us not just him) he got out of bed at around 5:00am."Where are you going?" I asked"Leev-ing roooom." He said.I followed him sleepily into the living room where I was subsequently guilt tripped into watching many episodes of Max and Ruby followed by multiple installments of Blue's Clues. During this time, Wil came home and we took Ari's temperature, which he did not like. It was 100 degrees. One dose of Children's Motrin and he was running around the living room lining up his cars and chasing the cats.Eventually, around 8am, I told him that he had to go back to sleep. He promptly requested "Thomas," which meant his Thomas The Tank Engine pillow, and then this happened:You can't tell here, but he's actually sleeping on the floor. He fell asleep on Thomas without a blanket, and once he was asleep, I didn't want to wake him, so I just covered him up. He's [...]

This morning I was down to my last bit of coffee. I emptied the bag into the filter and looked forward to the moment when my coffeemaker beeped so I could savor my last cup. When my Krups 12 Cup Programmable coffeemaker gave me the go ahead, I mixed the milk and sugar into my friend the coffee cup, and prepared a bagel with peanut butter for Ari and I to share.As soon as I made to the living room, I sat on the couch in a sleepy haze, and before I knew it, I had spilled my last cup of hope all over the table.I'm normally a clumsy person but, being pregnant, my increased progesterone levels have taken over and made me into a maladroit.While I was busy cleaning up the mess I'd just made. Ari managed to steal my breakfast.I asked him if he was eating my bagel, and he proudly confirmed "Yes!"Please tell me I'm not alone. Share your clumsy stories with me!

Today we went to the library and Ari was having a fun time acting out.Did I say acting out? I meant browsing for books and reading.After his antics, I needed to unload my troubles onto someone. Thankfully there was a nanny of a four year old girl ready and willing to be my impromptu therapist. She was a Pisces and therefore empathetic.I told her about Ari's bad behavior, and I solicited her advice on the following issue:Ari does not like to be changed. In fact, he kicks me in the stomach when I'm trying to change his diaper.She suggested that I:1. Ask him if he would like to put the lotion on himself when I'm done wiping him with baby wipes. That way he is involved in the process.2. Tell him if he doesn't cooperate while being changed, put him in time out when a clean diaper is finally on him. Explain that he is going to time out because he didn't listen to mommy when he was getting his diaper changed.I thanked her profusely for her help. I'll keep you posted on the results.

It's Sunday night, and Wil just went back to work. Unlike many of the population whose work week begins on Monday at 9am, Wil works at night, which means his work week begins on Sunday evening at 8:30pm.The nice thing about his current schedule is that he has the weekends off. But when Sunday night rolls around I get pretty depressed. After spending two uninterrupted days together, he has to return to the grind, and on a Sunday no less. Ari and I try to keep ourselves entertained when he leaves.But I find myself enviously thinking about the people out there who get to have their husbands/boyfriends/partners with them on this Sunday evening. Meanwhile, Ari and I (and the mystery baby) are missing Wil a lot. It's especially hard when Ari's going to sleep and he asks:"Where's daddy?""Daddy's at work." I tell him.In true two year-old fashion, he replies"No, daddy's not at work.""Oh, where is he then?" I ask, curious to know what he'll come up with."He's uh...downstairs!" He says confidently.Usually this situation is resolved when we call Wil at work to say goodnight. Ari concedes that daddy must be at work. Or I guess he could be calling from [...]