This is Merica Dammit

A miracle has occurred, my George returned to sleeping like a log. I can resume bragging once again. The wheels fell off the cart a couple months back when my sister told me that if a kid is not moved from a crib by two years old there will be developmental ramifications. I hastily took her advice, disassembled his mammoth crib and tossed him into his "big boy bed," that he immediately fell in love with. His newfound freedom got him so excited he'd take 4 hours to fall asleep.
Even locking him in the room (I have a camera on him so I can see whats going on) did not make him feel comfortably confined enough to fall asleep. I'd set him in bed, read, sing, and kiss goodnight, then go to the living room. Twenty minutes later I'd hear an unusual creak, so I'd tiptoe around the corner to peek down the hallway.
George would be standing in the shadow of his door, barely visible. It was a spooky thing to see because it looked like a creepy baby ghost from a Guillermo Del Toro movie.
After I put him back in bed, and returned to the living room, ignoring the unusual creaking noises, he'd get ballsy and start tiptoeing down the hallway. George's empowerment from freedom eventually made him "overtired," and the only way to get him asleep, would be by holding him in a half nelson, laying in the big boy bed together. I'd read Twitter and Pinterest on my phone till he eventually drifted off. The chances of him waking up a couple hours later and running through this sequence of events again were very high.
I swallowed my pride (it was only raisin size, really) and put him back in a crib. Now that he is sleeping, I have my nights back, and do not feel like a zombie from being up all night. If he has to sleep in his crib till he is 4 years old, then I am cool with that, because whatever developmental challenges that brings on are probably much lighter than the developmental challenges from not sleeping.
I do miss being able to get my Twitter-Pinterest loop out of the way before I'd head to my room and read in bed. Now that I begin the loop in bed, I have the hardest time quitting the loop. I go on Pinterest, look at all this beautiful shit, create enormous feelings of want, then go on Twitter where I read news, very repetitive news. For example, today I read four articles on Misty Copeland. Today's repeat news was refreshing to the usual sad stuff about ISIS, guns, or American politics, which is basically a high school election where whoever has the most glitter on their signage wins.
I'm a feminist, so I follow Hillary Clinton on Twitter. Do I ever see tweets about Hillary Clinton's politics? No. I read about her love of pant suits, how she is a woman, mother and grandma, and see photos of her campaigners and supporters.
The lesson I should learn here is that Twitter is not a source for news, and I need to incorporate another site in my cyber loop so I am getting properly informed.
Today was a busy day. We are in Tahoe because Sacramento is melting, it was 108 degrees today. Tahoe is a nonstop party train for the kids, so they collapse from exhaustion at 7, and I get to... write a blog.
We started the day at the beach where George followed Kiki around, even when she'd venture off to appendage herself to neighboring beach families. They constructed a stone heart and George started stealing stones to throw in the lake. I jokingly said, "You're breaking my heart!" And Kiki followed up, "That's OK, we still love you." Then my stone heart softened a bit.

We came home for lunch. Then George took a nap and Kiki watched Peter Rabbit while I ate an entire Toblerone. After George woke up, we went back to the beach to wait in a massive line for ice cream. I didn't order myself a cone because of the Toblerone, but this only means I ate one ice cream instead of two because I always eat 90% of George's cone since he eats it like a cat, one tiny lick at a time. Before he get a teaspoon in his belly, it melts on the ground, so I am constantly coming in, saving the day, by inhaling the lopsided mess about to fall to it's demise.
After ice cream we went to the pool, and after that my sister's, where they had a small BBQ dinner. I was dying of heartburn from the moment I arrived at her house. My dad stopped by to say hello, and after greeting him I said, "This might be the last time you see me."
Now that I am recovered, I can't recall the magnitude of pain exactly, but I did think I might be dying at one point. If my brother in law wasn't there I would have taken off my bra and unbuttoned my too tight shorts.
That fucking Toblerone bar almost killed me. Tomorrow I am returning back to hell, oh wait, I mean Sacramento, where the temperature is predicted to hit 106. The kids will pout because we have to trade in mountain hikes, swimming at the pool and beach fun for air conditioning and coloring books. We don't have to stress much about the Sacramento loop because we'll be back to Tahoe for the fourth of July, where we'll do our Tahoe loop even harder, and throw in some fireworks to boot. This is 'Merica dammit, and were not going to celebrate in an armpit where the heat can kill a girl. Imagine if I ate that Toberlone in Sac? I'd be dead!
Fuck, I need to incorporate a serious news outlet into my loop.

here is your opportunity to pick up a book. Look behind you.