Enter Sandman

As I was saying, Alex got some dinner and some playtime with G'ma and G'pa before bedtime Thursday night. We packed the kitchen sink but forgot to bring Alex's portable high chair, so Grandma B improvised and did what they used to do in "the olden days".

The thing I most dread about traveling with him - in fact, the only thing I really dread about traveling with him - is the fact that he doesn't usually sleep well in his pack 'n' play. Hoping to avoid a repeat performance of last Thanksgiving's horrid sleep(less) situation, I started putting A to bed with his blanket and his Jeero doll, praying that he would form some sort of attachment that would help him sleep outside of his own bed. We also set up his pack 'n' play in the "green room", aka the darkest room in the house, in an attempt to eliminate any distractions that might prevent him from getting a good night's sleep.

Comfy jammies? Check. Sound machine? Check. Warm bottle of whiskey-laced formula? Check. Come on, kid, what more do you want?

Nothing more, apparently. It seems our efforts to create the ideal sleeping environment paid off, as Alex went to bed around 8 and didn't wake up until 7 the next morning. Ironically, he has been sleeping better here than he does at home, going down for naps without a fuss and sleeping for 1 1/2 to 2 hours. I'm starting to think we need to vay-cay more often...

Lots of embarrassing fun ensued after A woke up. Case in point:

I know, it's just wrong, isn't it? We redeemed ourselves by making sure A had tons of humiliation-free fun the rest of the day.

Grandma thought he was looking a little puny, so at lunchtime, she force fed him banana puffs 'til he put on a few pounds.

After lunch, Mom and I took Alex shopping at a nice little strip center after a stop at Walmart to pick up an umbrella stroller. We decided not to bring the beast of a stroller that came with our travel system so that we'd have room to pack more important things, like clothes.

A couple of weeks ago, I made the worst mistake of my life and got my hair cut at a salon in Fayetteville, where the stylist used a butter knife to cut my layers, leaving me with short, fuzzy tufts of hair at my crown that bore no relation to the hair on the rest of my head. So I was peeved and miserable and desperate to have someone try to repair the damage (physical and emotional) before Easter. There was a little hair salon at the mall, called Divas, where apparently "Divas" means "ladies over ninety". But I was willing to take the chance because a head full of permed, blue hair would've been better than what I was working with.

I felt somewhat validated when the the guy at Divas gasped in horror at the sight of my ragged layers and told me what a terrible hair cut I had. He did tell me that I had a perfectly shaped head, however, and congratulated my mom (who he thought was my sister) on turning me over when I was a baby and keeping my head from going flat. So that's something, I guess. Anyway, long story a little longer, he did his very best to fix my "problem", and although he styled it like I was on my way to an AARP convention, it was 90% better than it was when I came in.

After Divas, we stopped in at several other places, and even met some Arkansans that owned the Three Dog Bakery franchise.

When we got home, Alex went down for a late nap while Grandma and I practiced for the family Wii tournament scheduled for Easter day. Turns out I'm as bad at Wii bowling as I am at real bowling.

However, I did kind of rock at Wii golf, which is odd considering I've never played golf in my life.

How sad that my exercise regiment is limited to video games and bench pressing an eight month old. Anyway, that about covers the events of Friday. More fun tomorrow!