I’m happily spending the week with my family in Indiana while Ryan is out of town for training. I’m a pretty independent person, but the thought of spending all that time alone with a baby in a strange city where I don’t know anyone yet sort of turns me into a codependent toddler. Thankfully my family is a bunch of enablers, so here I am.
Now, onto the week in review so I can take another nap. Because these people are totally just taking care of my baby. I’m beginning to think it wasn’t me they wanted to come visit at all.
In an epic turn of events, Wyatt only woke up once that night. And he’s continued to only wake up once a night. This has done incredible things for my sanity.
Since it was about 30 below outside, we huddled up for warmth on the couch and started reading one of Wyatt’s books.
I think he’s really digging the plot.
The landlord finally sent someone out to fix our heat. Only about a month after we told him it wasn’t working correctly. In Minnesota. In the winter. When it’s 30 below outside. Now I remember why I like to own my own home. I also picked my mom up from the airport and we promptly raced over to Smashburger to stuff our faces. Naturally.
Since my mom was in town we had two goals: Go to IKEA and find more food to stuff in our faces. We were successful. And I learned my lesson about trying to drive around the Minneapolis/Saint Paul area between the hours of 4 and 7pm. Never. Again.
We packed, we went to Target, I ate a slice of pizza that put all previous slices of pizza to shame. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m obsessed. I feel a little guilty about it. Like I have a cheesy, chewy secret lover. I meant to take a picture but I was too busy eating with one hand and holding the entire pizza with the other so no one else would eat any of it.
We drove back to Indiana. After I ate more of that pizza. I’m also continually amazed at how well Wyatt does on these long road trips we keep taking him on. I ended up being more cranky than he was. Probably because I ran out of that pizza.
Do you know what’s nice about staying with your parents for the week? Someone makes you pancakes for breakfast. And you get to eat them without interruption because someone is always ready to hold, feed, change or entertain your baby. It might be hard to go back home. Unless I just keep a supply of that pizza around.
P.S. I wasn’t kidding about really loving that pizza