Let's see, what have you missed. Ryan and I had a garage sale on Saturday. It was awesome, in the tradition of all of our garage sales. All of the garage sale favorites were there, the slightly-too-intense hagglers (lady, it's a stack of onesies, not a way forward for the Middle East), the chatty guy who tells you all about squirrels, person who shows up early and won't get out of the garage where the stuff that isn't for sale is, etc. We had a new one this time: Pedantic Sensitive Guy, here to tell you the many ways in which your belongings suck and are destroying the world. Also, this stainless steel spice rack is made from inferior metal! Uh, yeah, that's probably related to the sticker on the back that says IKEA, and I'm selling it for a dollar, dude. Said spice rack was purchased by a much nicer person fifteen minutes after Mr. Indignant left our pitiful display of consumerism. It was a very good sale; I brought over three car-loads of stuff and barely filled my trunk with leftovers afterwards.
I don't usually do product reviews, but I must mention my new favorite thing: the Misty Mate. I bought one for Dennis, to take to Bonnaroo and High Sierra, and broke it out at the garage sale. It cooled us right off, and I know it's going to be great for the festivals. I also want to experiment with clipping it to the canopy of Isaac's stroller when we're out for long walks or at the farmer's market, to give him air conditioning. Might work, might not. When I brought it out it was immediately renamed the Mr. Mister. This was funny although it had the unpleasant side effect of song-bombing all of us with Mister Mister songs. And no one wants that.
Yesterday I went shopping for a bathing suit for our trip to Tennessee in a few weeks. I realize that complaining about bathing suit shopping is about as hip and edgy as last week's Cathy, so I won't describe how horrible it was. But it sucked. There should be a line of bathing suits for squishy post-partum-dairy-queen-boob-havin' chicks, but there is not. I eventually found a passable tankini, after giving up on finding a one-piece that was going to fit. Still, I'm very happy that I'll just be swimming at my aunt's house and not someplace public. Normally I would skip the whole thing, but I want to get Isaac into the water with me. I think he will dig it, based on how much we're enjoying the bathtub lately.
Yes, we're going to try flying with the boodle. He and I are going to visit my parents while Dennis is at Bonnaroo. They haven't seen him since January, so he is in for so much grandparent love. First, though, we have to get there. We have a direct flight, and he has a seat so he can ride in his bucket. The advantage of him still being small enough for the baby bucket is that we will have its stroller frame with us in the airport, and then we can gate-check it and get it at the other end. It's much more self-contained than it will be later, when we'll have a separate stroller and big ol' car seat. See, there are advantages to having a small baby!
Not that he intends to stay small; it's been growth-spurt-o-rama around here. This had meant a slightly crankier baby, and the return of the midnight feeding, because it takes plenty of milk to grow a boy. He's doing a lot of floor time lately, and he's a lot more deliberate with his movements, especially if they involve getting our glasses. He's not rolling over completely (why must this arm be in my way, mama? why?), but he manages to get around pretty well. If I put him down in the crib on one end, his head will often be down at the other end when I return a while later. I'm not even sure how he does it.
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