There’s one game we always seem to lose at — the sleep gamble.

Here’s how it works. We have an exhausting day and make a poor decision.

Let’s use Monday as an example.

E. spent Sunday night at my grandparents’ house since her school was closed Monday for Presidents Day. E., who looks for any excuse to stay up as late as possible, didn’t go to sleep until 11 p.m. Sunday night. She was up at 9, and then they spent the day at the Jacksonville Zoo.

E. fell asleep on the drive back to their house in Flagler County. We arrived at 6:30 to pick her up and she was passed out. Just dead to the world. DadJovi and I had the following conversation.

Me: I think we should wake her up.

Him: No, I think she’ll sleep the whole way home, then stay asleep when we get home. She’s had an exhausting few days.

Me: I’m not sure. I think a long nap will just give her a second wind, then she’ll be up all night.

Him: Nah, she’ll be fine. Just let her sleep.

I think you know where this story is going. The second we arrive home, E. pops her eyes open and immediately starts protesting, “I don’t want to go to bed!” Then the screaming and crying starts. I try laying down with her. It gets worse. After about 30 minutes, she starts with the cries, “But I didn’t even have dinner! My belly is hungry!” That was technically true, but my grandmother told me she ate all day, including an entire big bag of sliced apples right before she fell asleep in the car. So she wasn’t starving.

Finally, I gave up and let her get up and get something quick to eat. It was then 9 p.m. By 9:30, I had her back in bed, read her two stories, then left her room. At least she wasn’t crying anymore. But she wasn’t sleeping either — she was singing and talking to her stuffed animals. FINALLY, around 11, I heard her settle down. Around 11:45, I went in for my final check of her of the night, and guess what I discovered — she was STILL AWAKE. She was quiet but still just hanging out in her bed.

I knew there was only one chance of her getting any sleep — I brought her into our bed and made her lay there silently and go to sleep. I think it was around 12:30 when she finally fell asleep. Surprisingly, she woke up easily and happily at 7:30.

This child just does not need sleep.

The sleep gamble also includes another risky bet — the Attempting to Drive Around Until She Falls Asleep wager. At least three times in recent months we’ve gotten screwed by this. In this example, it will be another exhausting day (i.e. a day at Disney). We’ll get close to home and she’ll appear very sleepy but won’t yet be asleep. Using past experiences to guide us, we’ll know that if we take her inside before she’s asleep, she’ll just get wound up again. So we’ll try the “let’s just drive around for a few minutes more” trick until she falls asleep. Sometimes it works great. We went 2-2 during our Duke weekend.

Other times, it backfires. Big time. Not only will she not fall asleep, but we’ll have just lost a valuable hour of time, meaning bedtime starts even later.

I know that seems like a really lazy way to get your kid to bed, but please see the point I made above — this child HATES to go to sleep. She’s the only child who hasn’t napped at preschool for the past two years. Every single day, she just lays there on her naptime mat for two hours without sleeping at all. Who does that? How can she not realize how lucky she is to have a naptime every day?

By this point, I’m convinced that even when she wants to sleep she just stays awake to spite us.

Yup, the house always wins.

What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done to get your kids to sleep? And how much would you give to take a nap every day?

In recent months, Klout has taken some hits. It’s become the fun thing to make fun of on Twitter lately, with seemingly random topics assigned to people (i.e. I’m apparently influential on marathons just because my husband has run two and I’ve never run further than 6 miles. Go figure) and rapidly rising and dropping Klout scores.

But, for at least the next several days, Klout has renewed my faith in the genius of its system. How else to explain the amazing perk I got this weekend? Those fine folks must really know what they’re doing over there.

A couple weeks ago, they sent out new perk notifications to some Orlando-area Klouters, and I quickly jumped on it to try and claim it. After some technology hiccups, they quickly responded to my bitching tweets (see, whining will get you everywhere! Just ask my 4-year-old) and helped me get registered.

When the dust settled, I could not believe what they were offering — one night’s stay for our family at the gorgeous Gaylord Palms resort here in Orlando; a meet-and-greet with Shrek, Fiona and Puss in Boots; a Shrek dance party, followed by a screening of the movie under the stars; PLUS a $100 food credit to use toward dinner and breakfast vouchers (and the breakfast buffet costs $21 per person!). All for free and with no strings attached — no giveaways to host, not required blog posts, etc.

The team at Gaylord Palms so blew me away this weekend that I knew I had to blog about it anyway just to show them my appreciation for such a memorable weekend.

It started two days before we were scheduled arrive. The lovely ladies from the Celebrity Services office called me to confirm our registrations and to see what kind of room we needed (two beds, please! The last time the three of us had to share one bed at a hotel I got about 45 minutes of sleep) and to see what time we’d be arriving. They encouraged us to arrive as early as possible in the day in order to take advantage of the resort.

When we arrived on Saturday, Michelle from Celebrity Services was waiting in the driveway for us to get our car sent to valet (again, for free) and to escort us up to our rooms. I have a better understanding of how celebrities start to feel entitled — I’m now expecting the same door-to-door service during our next stay at the Holiday Inn Express. Think it’ll happen?

We got to our room and were thrilled to find it had a balcony that overlooked the HUGE atrium!

I also found a welcome packet, including a detailed itinerary for our day. We quickly headed downstairs to explore. The Gaylord Palms pays tribute to Florida with several themed areas. First, we headed to the Everglades. And wouldn’t you know it. Guess what they had?

In the words of my boyfriend Indiana Jones, why must it always be snakes? I thought celebrities were able to avoid their greatest fears? E. was in snake heaven though.

After we were finally able to pry her away from the snakes, we kept exploring. Next, we found some more reptiles.

These were some of the most active baby gators and turtles I’ve ever seen! Nearby Gatorland (one of our FAVORITE Orlando spots) supplies all the critters and takes care of them.

The gators are located on an island within the St. Augustine section. This area is designed to resemble the famous Castille de San Marcos in St. Augustine. E. loved exploring its tunnels, caves and stairways.

And then we stumbled across something familiar — Key West!

E. doesn’t seem to share my enthusiasm, huh? She was just mad that there are no snakes in Key West. Perhaps they should add some wandering roosters for a touch of authenticity. From “Mallory Square” I snapped this picture of the enormous sailboat that serves as a restaurant and bar. Very cool.

Their mojitos could use some work, but a bad mojito is better than no mojito at all (words to live by).

After we had checked everything out, DadJovi and E. hit the pool for a little bit. Horray for Florida winters!

The pool is new, and as you can see by all the construction to the right, they have big plans right now. Later this spring, they’ll be opening up The Clubhouse (or is it the Treehouse? I forget). Either way, it looks amazing. It’s going to be a huge waterpark complex with slides, pools, a huge bucket that dumps water and all sorts of fun things for kids.

DadJovi and I also found where we’ll be spending March Madness — Gaylord Palm’s new sports bar, Wreckers. Seriously, people, it’s the most gorgeous sports bar I’ve ever seen. First, there’s an outside balcony that overlooks the pool above, and there are tons of flat screens on the walls.

Inside, is the most massive screen I’ve ever seen. It’s two stories high and features two huge featured spots, as well as more than a dozen spots for other games.

And look how comfortable those seats look! When a waiter saw us walking around with our jaws hanging to the ground, he came up to introduce himself and to tell us that they really want Orlando locals to come to the bar. They have a great selection of local craft beers, great food (at least from the looks of the menu) and they’re offering free parking to anyone who spends $25 at the bar/restaurant. Yup, we’ll be back!

Then, it was time for the main event — our Shrek meet and greets!

She was all about that darn cat. Me? I love me some Fiona. She’s a princess I can really get on board with — green skin and all.

Then, we took full advantage of our $100 dining credit and headed to the Old Hickory Steakhouse, which was in the Everglades section.

Don’t let its rustic decor fool you: this is one of the highest rated steakhouses in Central Florida and it delivered. DadJovi had an amazing New York strip and I had the fish, which was served with chanterelle sauce, asparagus and asiago and white truffle mashed potatoes. Yeah, it rocked my face off.

We splurged with the dinner (meaning we had to spend more than the $100 credit!) and called it our birthday dinner. We never made it out for mine and this will count towards DadJovi’s birthday later this week. The service was fabulous, the sides were amazing (served family style) and I’m just disappointed we were too stuffed for either the cheese course or the Tupelo honey souffle. But it was definitely pricey and I’m sure we won’t be heading there too often — E’s chicken fingers were $16! That made me cry a little bit. But another glass of wine helped me forget it.

After dinner, we went to run off some dinner before the night’s festivities got started.

Before the dance party started, we ran up to our room to use the bathroom and drop off our souvenir photos with Shrek. When we came into the room, we discovered we had presents — a bucket filled with spring waters and juices and a plate of swamp fingers. E. pounced (and saved us from having to make good on our promise to get dessert somewhere outside of the restaurant).

They were disgustingly sweet, which is apparently perfect for 4-year-olds. She loved them. And I loved the note.

Then it was time to dance!

There were also arts and crafts — coloring and make-your-own swamp slime. It involved a lot of stirring. A lot.

Finally, it was time to stretch out in the astroturf for a showing of “Shrek: Ever After” under the stars.

Apparently I make an awesome pillow. Yeah, that’s totally why I’ve been holding on to that weight in my thighs. I knew it’d come in handy someday.

So, that was it. Still with me? I know this is one giant love letter to Gaylord Palms and Klout, but I’m sorry — it really was such a fun family night! The resort is really making an effort to transform itself from a primarily convention location to a family-friendly resort. Not sure what took them so long — they’re a stone’s throw from Disney!

Gaylord Palms will be having these Dreamwork themed weekends all spring long. They’re not cheap (I think packages start at $210 for these weekends), but I’d look it a little bit like a cruise — all of the fun is self contained. You could easily turn it into a staycation and never leave the resort if you were just going on a Saturday morning, for example, and staying until Sunday afternoon. Just a thought! But yeah, it’s a bit pricey.

Besides, you just might make a new, green friend.

Disclosure: In case you missed the explanation above, my family and I stayed at the Gaylord Palms Resort for free for one night thanks to a Klout perk. I was not asked to blog about my experience in return, but we just had a really good time at a place we’d never visited before, so I wanted to share our experiences with you. So, as the saying goes, all opinions about our time at Gaylord Palms are 100 percent mine. For more, please refer to my full disclosure policy.

What’s the best Klout perk you’ve ever received? Have you ever been to Gaylord Palms? I hear they have them in other cities, too. Are they anything like this? And finally, who is your favorite Shrek character?

Let me start off by saying that E. adores her father. She really does. There’s nothing she likes better than Father-Daughter night (any time I have book club, girls’ night out, etc. These are the nights where her infatuation with “Star Wars” was born).

And as I’ve documented, I think DadJovi could be the greatest dad ever.

But, from day 1, E. has always been a momma’s girl. During her first two years of life, it made sense — I was with her almost 24/7. In fact, until she was 14 months old and started daycare, the longest amount of time we spent apart was probably a 4-hour stretch — once or twice.

She’s 4 now, yet I’m still her go-to for everything. It’s a mixed blessing. Yes, it’s a big burden at times, but I also know that she’s a girl. That means someday she’ll be a teen girl. That means some day, all too soon, she’ll hate me. It’s just biology.

So I savor our BFFness and the fact that I’m the first one she runs to, cries for and wants to snuggle next to when she wakes up scared in the middle of night. But it hurts DadJovi. And I know it’s easier said than done, but no matter how many times I tell him that he can’t take her rejections personally, I know that he does.

This week, E. has scorned him in two big ways.

First, we’re battling some big bedtime issues lately. After we finish reading and turn off the lights, she comes out time and time (and sometimes time) again. “I need a drink of water.” “I’m scared of the dark.” “I just needed one more hug and kiss.” (OK, that last one always melts us. Man, she’s good).

Wednesday night, though, she really outdid herself. By 9:45 (almost two hours after we’d left her room) she came out yet again, crying that she wanted me to come lay down with her. I almost caved but I knew it was a bad precedent (wasn’t it President Harrison Ford who said we don’t negotiate with terrorists? Those are words to live by).

So she stormed back to her room, crying the whole way. DadJovi couldn’t stand it anymore, so he went back to offer to lay down with her. When she saw him approaching her room, she slammed the door shut (and I had a sneak peek into our lives in about 11 years). He knocked, and she crelled (that’s a cry/yell): “I WANT MOMMY, NOT YOU.”

I would have given up then. But her persisted. He tried to open her door and she barricaded herself in front of it. At that point, he gave up.

After about 20 minutes, the crying stopped and it got quiet. We finished watching Top Chef, then went back to check on her before we went to bed, as always. DadJovi went first and came back laughing hysterically. He said, “You’ve got to come see this.” Now, I’ve found her in a lot of weird states before — wearing a princess dress and dress-up shoes; surrounded by a dozen books; sleeping with her head on the bed and her body dangling over the side. But this may take the cake.

She was still barricaded against the door. She had curled up like a dog on the small rug in front of her door and fallen asleep. I had to use the door to push her body away from it in order to get into the room.

All because she wanted me, not Daddy, to lay down with her. Piece of work.

But at least that humiliation was private. Today, E. decided to publicly embarrass her father.

Since he was going to a concert tonight, he decided to leave work slightly earlier than usual and pick E. up from school to spend some time with her. I loved it because it would give me a chance to run to the bank and grocery store on my own first.

But then I get a call from him and all I can hear is her crying in the background and an exasperated DadJovi saying, “You’re going to have to come meet me at the school. E. is crying hysterically because I picked her up instead of you and she refuses to leave a corner.”

When she saw it was him, not me, she started crying and ran into a corner to hide behind a stereo. Yes, apparently, our daughter would rather stay at school than leave with her father. I’m beginning to think she’s a little OCD. To her, the routine is, Daddy drives her to school and Mommy picks her up. Anything that deviates from that is apparently grounds for a breakdown.

Eventually her teacher was able to help get her out of the corner and out the door with him. Thankfully, the teacher also babysits for us so she knows us well enough to know he’s not beating her or anything — she’s just throwing a tantrum for no good reason.

I feel so bad for him. He tries so hard. I mean, c’mon, he took her to the Blue Devil’s house for her birthday for crying out loud. They have a BLAST together 95 percent of the time. Sometimes, though, she’s just plain mean to him and rejects him in a way that she’s never done with me.

Any ideas? Do your kids prefer one parent over the other? Is she already conniving enough to know that these types of things would hurt him more than me, or is this just a (hopefully short-lived) phase? Or will this be the basis of future therapy sessions (for him, obviously)?

POST-POSTING UPDATE!

About an hour after I hit publish on this post, I went in to check on E. And guess how I found her:

This is clearly a good news/bad news situation. The good news is that it’s not just DadJovi — she chose to sleep like this tonight when he’s not here. There were no tears before this; it’s just how she decided to fall asleep. Of course, that’s the bad news — apparently she suddenly hates her bed and prefers a hardwood floor instead. Go figure.

When we told people that we were celebrating E’s 4th birthday in Durham, North Carolina, rather than having a party, they looked at us a bit strangely. No one quite believed us when we said E. had one wish for her birthday — to go to the Blue Devil’s house.

But that’s all she wanted. So, after some quick travel research, her father was happy to oblige and take her to his alma mater. We discovered that Allegiant now flies between Orlando (Sanford) and Greensboro, N.C. It’s only about an hour or so drive from Greensboro to Durham and the best part? We got our tickets for about $80 roundtrip each. Durham here we come!

We first spent Thursday night at my sister- and brother-in-law’s home just outside Charlotte. And not only were they fabulous hosts who took us to an amazing place (Discovery Place, which was a giant preschool play area with a kid-sized pretend grocery store, farm, race car, submarine, vet’s office, ambulance and much, much more), they also gave E. what could be the best gift ever — a big box full of Star Wars goodies.

There were pancake molds:

a Darth Vader spatula:

an apron:

and TIE fighter and Millennium Falcon sandwich cutters!

Yeah, E. was pretty psyched. On Friday, we kept the Star Wars theme going by seeing Star Wars: Episode 1 in 3D (which is awesome, by the way). Since it was her birthday, we let her get a popcorn and I didn’t monitor it as closely as I normally do. Big mistake. Toward the end of the movie, she started saying that her belly hurt. She made it through the end, but as soon as we got out in the parking lot, she threw up everywhere. Oops! Thank God she did it in the parking lot, rather than in the rental car and her car seat. What would we have done with no washing machine? Glad I didn’t have to figure that one out.

After relaxing at the hotel for a few hours, we met up with some of DadJovi’s college buddies for dinner. It was perfect — all three have girls within a year of each other and they got along great.

By the way, E. is driving me crazy with her new thing — the side-eye. She refuses to look directly into the camera. Coy? Torturing her mother? Afraid the camera will steal her soul? Who knows.

After dinner, there was a very special birthday dessert.

Yes, that is a Blue Devil cake. The brainwashing is thorough my friends. Very thorough.

Really? More side-eye? Sigh.

Friday night, the birthday girl got nearly 13 hours of sleep (and Mommy finished “Room,” my next book club selection. Intense!). On Saturday, we hit one of DadJovi’s favorite places — the Duke Gardens. We’ve been there on previous trips and this time, we couldn’t believe all the improvements they’ve made. They’ve always been great, but now, they rival the Botanical Gardens in Atlanta or any other city’s gardens. And they’re free to visit because students often cross them to get from one side of campus to the other.

You can see the top of the Duke Chapel in the distance. The gardens cover 55 acres and there are several different sections — the Asiatic gardens, native plants, and the terrace gardens. Even in the middle of winter, there were beautiful things everywhere we looked.

After a couple hours in the gardens, we headed over to campus for a quick lunch at the Washington Duke Inn (and to use its parking lot for our car), and then we walked up to the main attraction:

It’s been about five years since we’ve been to a game at Cameron, so DadJovi was excited, to say the least. Hey, here’s a fun fact for you. Did you know that he lobbied HARD to name E. Cameron Indoor. Yes, he wanted Indoor as her middle name because he says “no one cares about middle names anyway.” I actually like the name Cameron (having nothing to do with Duke) but thankfully, friends of ours had a baby a few months before us and stole DadJovi’s baby name. Problem solved.

We also took E. over to one of the spots that makes Duke Duke — KVille.

If you’re not familiar with Krzyzewkiville, it’s named for Duke’s Coach K and it’s where the students basically have to live during basketball season. It’s a complicated system involving tent checks, numbered tents, bracelets and one student needing to be present at all times. I have no idea how DadJovi did this for four years, but that’s how the Cameron Crazies get crazy! E. loved it, by the way.

While we were waiting for our appointment with the Blue Devil, we walked over to the Duke Chapel — the most recognized landmark on campus.

Then, after all the build-up, it was time for the main event of the weekend — meeting the Blue Devil! When we first decided to go, the one thing DadJovi was most worried about was how could we possibly get a photo with the Blue Devil. Clearly, he forgot who he was married to. Thanks to some fawning tweeting on my end to the official Blue Devil mascot account, I finally got the response we’d been waiting for — he sent me his email address. I quickly emailed him about E’s love for him and all the ways her father has brainswashed her (Blue Devil = Santa’s helper Tar Heel = toy stealer) and I got this response:

 That is awesome.  I would be more than happy to meet with you and your daughter at some point.  I think the best way to handle this is as we get closer to the game, send me another email and I will connect you to my handler who will make sure that I can meet up with you guys at some point.  

Always #1,

}–The Blue Devil–{   

On game day, I emailed his handler back and forth and we had a meeting time set up. But then, about an hour before we were supposed to meet, we saw The Blue Devil himself walking from the gym to Cameron. I decided there was no time like the present and pointed him out to E. Without even hesitating, she hurtled toward him:

Think she was excited?

You know we go to Disney a lot and E. is on a first-name basis with the princesses. I’m telling you, my girl was flat-out starstruck and tongue-tied. It was a pretty kick-ass moment. Otto is always No. 1 in my heart, but the Blue Devil will always have a tiny piece of my heart now for being such a good sport and making her birthday wish come true.

After we met the Blue Devil, E’s first question was, “Can the Crazies paint my face now?” We had seen some of the students painting faces earlier but I told her no face painting until after our Blue Devil meet-and-greet. We set out to find our artists.

I think they wanted to adopt her as their mascot, and I’m pretty sure she is now on about 35 kids’ Facebook pages. They were all snapping away. Oh well.

We also found E. and her father’s second favorite Duke “mascot” — the Storm Trooper who sits in the front row of every game.

E. also loved these girls.

Dear future E: If I ever see a picture of you dressing up as a Smurf by painting your body blue and only wearing a white tape dress, I will come to Durham and bring you home. Just try me. But they were sweet girls and I’m sure they were on TV a lot. They got good seats inside Cameron.

The game itself was so much fun. We got great seats, although seeing as how Cameron only seats about 9,000, there really isn’t a bad seat in the house. It’s tiny! My first time there a few years ago I couldn’t get over how small and cramped it is, especially compared to the Carrier Dome. But it’s got an atmosphere like no other place.

E. was mesmerized by the cheers, the band and of course, the Blue Devil.

And, oh yeah, there was a game, too!

DadJovi loved teaching E. all about the game and of course the Duke cheers. I heard she’s now harassing the kids playing basketball at preschool by sticking her arm out, waving her fingers and yelling in that monotone way the Crazies love to do.

And my streak of only seeing Duke losses at Cameron finally ended! I think DadJovi was about to ban me from the building.

And just in case you were wondering if all of this was necessary for a 4th birthday, allow me to tell you the very important question E. had after the game. “Daddy, when I get big, can I go to college at Duke, too?”

Hook, line, sinker.

She claims she wants to go to Syracuse for her 5th birthday but I’m afraid if I take her to Syracuse in February, she’ll never want to go back. Too bad they don’t play basketball in the summer.

How are we ever going to top this birthday?

What’s the first sporting event you remember attending? And did you adopt your parents’ favorite sports teams or did you do what I fear E. will do — choose to root for their rivals?

I have a confession to make: school events tend to make me competitive.

On Valentine’s Day, E.’s school is having a Fancy Nancy party for the 3s and pre-K classes. Last week, the room mom (who, by the way, took over my room mom duties because I apparently wasn’t on top of things enough. Actually, I was glad to let that one go) sent out an email asking for parents to volunteer for the party. It falls over lunch, so I agreed to come to school and help for about 90 minutes with the party.

I could have just said that I couldn’t swing it, but that old working mom guilt kicked in and I didn’t want E’s mom to be the one mom who wasn’t there. I know that most of them probably won’t be there, but when I went back to work (almost) full-time, I vowed that I’d try to make every event possible as long as I didn’t have another big meeting or something scheduled. So I’m going.

We were in Durham, North Carolina, this past weekend for E’s big birthday celebration (more on that later), so I hadn’t really given E’s Valentine’s for her classmates much thought. We picked up a box of kitten and puppy cards last week (random, but she picked them out) and I was going to leave it at that. But then today, as I was on my way to school to pick E. up, I suddenly remembered that last year, all the other parents (it was probably moms, but I’m an equal opportunity envier) attached little candies and goodie bags. And I didn’t. I don’t know how I forgot this crucial piece of history.

It also didn’t help that I saw people tweeting all their Valentine’s cookies and crafts today that they’d prepared for classmates and teachers. Quit making me look bad here, people!

And sure enough, when I arrived at E’s school, I saw that one of the moms had already dropped off her daughter’s Valentine’s for tomorrow. Of course, I sneaked a peek. Yup, attached to each Valentine was a cellophane bag filled with candy and mini Play-Doh containers. Crap.

What was I going to come up with in the 11th hour? I rushed E. through pick-up and raced to a local cookie store in our neighborhood. I got there 5 minutes before they closed and shocker — they were cleaned out. They had two packages of Valentine’s cookies left and I needed 9. Crap.

In the bin next to the register, I found big fat non-holiday cookies. But at least they sounded good — peanut butter chocolate chip and triple chocolate. Done and done. Thank God they were all already individually wrapped in cellophane bags with pink ribbons attached.

After dinner, it was time for the painful process of E. filling out her cards. The teacher only has us sign them, not address them, so you’d think that would make the process go faster. It didn’t.

E. is battling tiredness and a head cold. It was not the idyllic childhood experience that she’ll remember for years to come. There were tears, snot-filled tissues, and Mommy telling her to hurry up because it was getting late. Ahhh, bonding.

And the card-makers really should make toddler-friendly cards. There was no way E. was going to be able to fit her whole name in the teeny tiny space they allow for the From. So hopefully her classmates realize that she’s E.

They better know they’re from her — I want credit for those stupid cookies, dammit.

Why do I care? Seriously? She’s 4. Why do I let myself get worked up about crap like this? Is it mommy guilt? Is it just keeping up with the Jones? Am I just mental?

Someone please tell me that I’m not alone. Are you motivated by your crafty Pinteresty self? Or, like me, are you just trying to not be the slacker mom?

Cue the waterworks. How is it possible that we’ve already gone from this:

To this:

We’re in North Carolina today. The Star Wars pancakes are being made as I type by her beloved aunt and uncle, so there’s no time to wax poetic on my feelings on this day. It’s probably a good thing — I forgot to pack the waterproof mascara.

All I’ll say is she’s the best time I’ve ever had. Yes, she drives me crazy at times. But I’m so proud of her spirit, independence, enthusiasm and joy for life. I hope when she’s 8, 12, 16, etc. she never loses that passion to be HER and no one else.

Happy birthday, E. Thank you for making me a mother.

At first, I kept blaming our busy schedule. We had the holidays, which included lots of traveling, houseguests and sugar. Then, it was simply us trying to get back into our routine.

But now? Well, I’m out of excuses and starting to face an ugly truth — our daughter is turning into a brat.

OK, that’s harsh. But suddenly, our sweet, sweet girl who used to listen and was always up for anything (you know, the random three-Disney park day with her dad) is gone. And in her place is a sulking, whining, crying, dramatic and defiant almost 4-year-old. Who knew that 4 was the new 14?

Every single thing lately seems to send her into a crying fit. And if my husband and I dare to tell her no, the tantrums ensue.

This weekend, we had friends in town, which included their adorable 3-year-old. At first, E. did a really good job sharing her toys. She was even excited to have her very first sleepover.

But it didn’t last. We gave the girls about 90 minutes and they still wouldn’t calm down. If we didn’t have plans the following morning, we might have let them keep being silly as long as it took them to pass out, but we were taking our friends to Disney for their very first time. That’s a BIG day. Plus, they’d been traveling all day to get to our house. Our littlest houseguest was clearly ready to sleep. But E. kept talking and talking and talking (gee, wonder where she gets it?). And yelling and yelling and yelling. Between the four of us parents, we went in to give them warnings at least 7 times.

Finally, at about 10:30 we pulled E. Oh, the meltdown. One solid hour of her screaming and me having to lock myself in my bedroom with her ensued. It was not fun. There was hitting, slamming her body on the ground and just general hysterics.

Saturday morning wasn’t much better. Given her late-night dramatics, she was not a happy camper when we arrived bright and early at Magic Kingdom. For the first three hours or so, this was pretty much her general demeanor.

Look at how desperate poor DadJovi is as he tries to negotiate her behavior. E. is a master stonewaller already, though. (Is this your homework, Larry?)

I know it seemed worse to DadJovi and I than it did to our friends, but it was very frustrating. She’s apparently just gotten to used to having her own way, particularly at Disney. I know it’s a product of her being an only child — she’s used to going where she wants, when she wants (within reason, obviously) at Disney. The concept of allowing other kids to pick the rides is completely foreign to her, and, as we learned the hard way, infuriating for her.

By lunchtime, she started turning her attitude around and the second half of the day was much better than the first half. By dinner time, our shiny, happy girl seemed to be back.

But the damage was done. DadJovi is done with the attitude. In fact, he was ready to cancel this weekend’s birthday trip to the Blue Devil’s House, aka Duke. When E. said that’s what she wanted instead of a birthday party, that’s what her dad planned (hmmm, maybe I see where some of that spoiling is coming from). But I had to convince him that she’s not a teenager who has broken curfew over and over again — she IS still a 3-year-old trying to flex her independence muscles.

It’s been very frustrating though. This wasn’t just one weekend; it’s an ongoing, chronic problem. Every little no from us results in waterworks and fits from her. I’m terrified that this weekend is going to consist of bribes and threats for her to be good, tantrums, an angry dad and a stressed out mom stuck in the middle.

Listen, I don’t want her to be an obedient robot. I love her spirit and yes, independence. Someday those will be amazing character traits. Someday. For now, they exist simply to torture me.

Thankfully, this is the last major thing on the agenda for the coming months. Then, it’s time for Attitude Boot Camp! Is this normal? Are 4-year-olds just whiny in general? What helps you distract your kids when they act like this? Or have we just created a monster? I keep telling DadJovi the only solution is to force her to not be the center of attention by having a second child. So far, he’s not buying it. At this rate, boarding school is starting to look like a good option.

My husband and I have a long-standing tradition — we wait until we know we have houseguests coming and then we scramble to finally do all those pesky honey-dos. I swear, if no one ever visited us, our house would still look like it did when we moved in eight years ago. In other words, old and outdated.

One of my husband’s best friends (in fact, he was best man in our wedding) and his wife and 3-year-old are coming this weekend from New York. They’re expecting their second in a couple months and decided to bring their daughter to Disney while she’s still an only child (smart parents). They called last week to see when might be a good time in February and of course my husband consulted his Bible — EasyWDW.com. When we saw that the crowd rating is going to be a 9 on President’s Day weekend (that’s based on a scale of 1 to 10), we urged them to come earlier or later. It ended up being earlier, so they’re coming this weekend (and it’s a 4, according to the crowd calendar. Much better).

But that meant we only had a few days notice to get the house in order. Now, we certainly could have done nothing and everything would have been fine. But there’s been some items on our list since the holidays — plant flowers in containers, trim the hedges, print new pictures for frames, get new lamps and some new curtains. You know, nothing much.

We (insanely) hit Ikea on Sunday. Our whole family loves Ikea normally. Even E. loves the “baby jail.” Yes, even with a name like that, she loves going there. And I love the special solo shopping time. But when we went on Sunday, it was PACKED. There was about a 15-family line just waiting to sign kids up for baby jail. But she was a trooper and joined us for our mad sprint through a packed Ikea.

We came out with three new lamps, new curtains and a new curtain rod. This is our favorite of the new lamps:

I love it except for the fact that I can’t get the damn lamp shade to stay straight. Doesn’t it look like it has a slight lean to you? So annoying. And yes, that is a Halloween picture of E. from her first Halloween. I brought it out in October and it’s still there. Do you see what I’m saying people? If guests don’t come, I’d never update anything (besides my mom. Poor her. I never make any changes for her visits, but that’s what moms are for).

Speaking of Halloween, there was something else lingering around since then — our front door map. Yes, all through Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas, we had a pumpkins Happy Halloween mat out front. Seriously, what is wrong with me? I finally swapped in a generic Welcome mat.

Back inside, the lamps are all set up, but the curtains are another story. The guest room is ready and waiting for them.

Yeah, it’s high time those mini-blinds got covered up. I bought a pair of curtains at Ikea. I know that Ikea’s curtains all run long but we got a pair for E’s playroom last year (before her birthday party — see, I need motivation) and in mind, I was like, “Yeah, I remember using the iron-on hems to shorten them. No problem.” Why does my memory suck?

As soon as I got the new curtains home, I held them up to the guest room windows and realized hemming them would be a MAJOR project. The windows are 57 inches long. Look how long these curtains are:

Seriously, who the hell has 98-inch windows? Anyone?? And if they do, they sure as hell aren’t buying curtains at Ikea. Somehow Ikea curtains don’t scream McMansion Chic.

And the iron-on hem instructions are oh-so-simple to follow.

As I went into E’s playroom to figure out how I did it last time, my memory suddenly kicked in — I tried and failed to hem them last time, so I caved and took them to my seamstress.

And since I wait to do everything until the last minute, I have no time to return the curtains and go find new ones. One guess as to where the curtains are now? You got it. I begged her to finish them as quickly as she can, but that means I’ll be hanging curtain rods and curtains the night before our guests get here. Awesome.

So much for those Ikea savings.

Since I was depressed about not getting new textiles up somewhere, I decided to snag a new tablecloth when I ran to Target at lunch today for a few things.

I think it works with our dining room chairs, but man those covers need to be changed. I’m not even going to tell you how long they’ve been on there, but let’s just say they’ve made several moves and seen several roommates and parties in their day. They’ve served me well.

Other than a trip to the grocery store and liquor store, I think we’re in good shape. The fact the cleaning lady was already scheduled for one of her twice monthly visits tomorrow is just a blessing of timing. No tub scrubbing til midnight for me tonight!

How do you prepare for houseguests? What motivates you to make changes around the house?

First of all, many thanks to everyone for your kind comments in my previous post. The family gave Aunt Bobbie a send-off she would have loved. It was a day filled with funny stories and tributes to her life. So, thank you again.

I ended up taking a longer-than-planned blogging hiatus because I’ve been buried in one of the best books I’ve read in a long time.

I’ve been consumed by “The Paris Wife” by Paula McLain. Even though we all know how it ends (the description itself says it’s about Ernest Hemingway’s first wife. Spoiler alert! When something says “first,” it implies there will be more!), it’s an engrossing look at Paris in the 1920s. My obsession reached such a fever peak over the weekend that I even rented a movie that focuses on the same period.

I am now obsessed with learning more and more about the Lost Generation. All of the characters I was reading about in “The Paris Wife” — Gertrude Stein, F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, and, of course, Hemingway himself — come to life in “Midnight in Paris.” I’m not a big Owen Wilson fan but he actually works in the movie. And Michael Sheen is brilliant.

But back to “The Paris Wife,” I can’t recommend this book enough. Even if you don’t consider yourself a Hemingway fan, you’ll be drawn into this story of first loves, the struggles of marriage and the things (women, alcohol, money, success, jealousy) that tear friendships and marriages apart. Plus, it’s a pretty great history of one of the most creatively relevant times in modern history — Paris in the ’20s.

This isn’t my first foray into a Hemingway obsession. As you know, Key West is one of our favorite spots in the world and the stories and mythology surrounding Papa in the Conch Republic are numerous, to say the least. DadJovi and I are such Hemingway devotees that we even sent our bridal party copies of “To Have and Have Not” when we asked them to be in our wedding (he wrote it in Key West) and we included a reading from a Hemingway book during our wedding ceremony (which is interesting because I can’t remember what book it’s from and DadJovi is telling me as I’m writing this that he has no recollection of my brother even reading anything during the ceremony. Yup, that day is seared into our memories, huh? Do you see why I blog now? I have NO MEMORY of anything anymore. My brain is mush).

Also, years ago, on a particularly long road trip (Maine, maybe?) we listened to an audiobook of “Running With the Bulls,” written by Hemingway’s secretary and future daughter-in-law. Her husband (Hemingway’s youngest son) eventually became a transgendered woman who underwent gender reassignment surgery. Just a little fun fact for you!

Moving along. Now that I’ve finished “The Paris Wife,” I’ve taken the next logical step — spending hours on Wikipedia and other sites backing up what I read and going down the rabbit hole of the Hemingway family.

Hadley, Ernest and Bumby Hemingway, Austria, 1926. Hooray for Wikimedia Commons!

I’m also thrilled that our bookshelf includes most of Hemingway’s books. “The Paris Wife” deals extensively with Hemingway writing “The Sun Also Rises,” so I think that is next on my reading list, followed by “A Moveable Feast,” Hemingway’s autobiography about his and Hadley’s (aka the Paris wife) time in Paris.

The book is technically historical fiction, but I know the author was very careful to follow the timeline of the Hemingways’ life, including where they lived, the friends they spent time with, the highs and lows of Hemingway’s career and more. The next time you want to be transported to another time and place, check out “The Paris Wife” and “Midnight in Paris.” They really should release them as a companion set!

Do you go on streaks with your entertainment, too? Once we start watching a show or a topic that gets us excited, we tend to go on tears and consume entire series or everything related to it. And seriously, does anyone else find Owen Wilson’s nose completely distracting? It’s all I think about every time he’s on camera.

This week, we lost another member of our family to cancer.

DadJovi’s aunt Bobbie died on Monday at 82 of lung cancer. Six years ago, she was diagnosed with — and beat! — breast cancer. But a few months ago, she was diagnosed with lung cancer and she went quickly. Lung cancer doesn’t eff around. It’s brutal.

Bobbie was a fabulous woman and always made me feel so welcome in the family. I wish I had more than eight years’ worth of memories with her, but I’m incredibly grateful for them. Her daughter lives just a couple streets away from us and is the person I’m closest to in DadJovi’s family, so even when I didn’t see Aunt Bobbie, I always knew what was going on with her via her daughter.

She was also so sweet to E. This was their first meeting:

It’s so funny to look at that picture. E. in some ways looks so small but I also know how big she was — she was only about 5 weeks old in that picture. Oh, my giant baby.

Some of my best memories of Aunt Bobbie are from our wedding in Key West. She loved tooling around Duval Street in the golf cart they’d rented for the weekend.

I’m just so tired of losing loved ones to cancer. I know everyone has to die of something, but cancer not only cuts lives short, it just destroys your quality of life at the end. We recently had a doctor on our radio show, and although I’m not sure of all of his claims, I think there’s a lot of truth to his contention that the medical machine doesn’t WANT to cure cancer — it’s a multi-billion dollar industry. Why would anyone with a vested interest want to lose that? (Here’s the interview if you’re interested in hearing more)

Of course, any time someone we know dies of cancer, it can’t help but remind DadJovi and me of his mother, who died of ovarian cancer in 2007 (E is her namesake — she died when I was about 17 weeks pregnant). It was 18 months of pure hell, particularly on her body, and the type of situation that makes you question everything — our medical system, what doctors can and can’t do, and of course, your faith.

The last several years have also been particularly tough on one person very special to me — my cousin Rachel. I’ve shared some of her blog posts via Twitter before and I promise, I’ve been meaning to dedicate a whole post to her awesomeness … so it’s coming cuz! She was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer that originated in her appendix when she was just 29. Over the past 3+ years, she’s been to hell and back many times over. She has two small children and through it all, has never lost her inner light (I’m sure she’d say that some days it burns a little less brightly than usual but trust me, it’s always there).

For example, how many moms do you know who’d let their kids put a temporary tattoo on her newly bald head?

C’mon, how badass is she?

If there’s anyone I’ve ever known who has what it takes to kick cancer’s ass, it’s Rachel. Here’s another example. She grew so tired of all the inspirational BS “beat cancer” messages that are out there, that she came up with her own during a particularly rough patch. Well, it clearly deserved its own bracelet.

I think that says it nicely — fuck you cancer. Quit taking our loved ones before they’re ready to go.

I’ll be back in a few days. The whole family is in town for Aunt Bobbie’s services on Friday. It actually sounds like it’s going to be lovely. It’ll be in a beautiful park along the river in Daytona Beach and we’ve been instructed to not wear black. We’re also bringing E., so we had to have yet another talk with her about death and dying. I think she understands what’s going on but I’m anticipating a lot more questions during the actual service on Friday. Thank God there’s no casket, though — that’s something I was not ready to tackle.

We all have lost someone too soon. If this post made you think of them, perhaps you’d like to share one small memory or tribute to your loved one. Or, if you don’t want to share (which I completely get), try to remember something about them to yourself that makes you smile. It always helps me at times like this.