I am still coming down from my SITS high. It was seriously overwhelming but SO wonderful. I finished up commenting everyone that came and visited my blog (aside from those of you that I couldn't comment due to privacy or whatever - there was actually a few that wouldn't let me comment for some unknown reason).
During my hiatus I totally forgot how much I enjoy blogging, giving comment love and receiving comment love. I missed this SO much!
So many things to update...
There were a number of questions from commenters in my blog and I want to be sure that I answer them as well as I can.
First off, YES, I washed my little man in the sink at camp :) It is a total tradition. At the camp there is only a shower and A, my autistic son, does NOT do showers. While at camp, well, they get ABSOLUTELY disgusting - matter of fact, one day I gave him a pot of water to play in so his fingernails would get clean (it worked very well by the way).
I swear to all that is holy, I used Comet on the sink BEFORE I put him in (it is a "boys" camp...they don't really "clean") and AFTER. The sink was VERY clean while he was in it and even more clean AFTER he was in it :) Angels, you can gag all you want :)
My profile picture is wonderful, thank you for all that commented on it. No, I did not take it. I found it online somewhere...photobucket maybe? It is called "Praying for a Cure". If you notice, the little boy in the picture is holding the autism awareness ribbon. Personally, I am not praying for a cure, I am praying for awareness. Many of you know about A and how I think he is perfect just the way he is. In my opinion, it is the rest of the world that needs to change, not him.
Yes, I do barter - quite a bit actually. I like to barter for things that I wouldn't normally spend money on (pedicures, foils, websites). If you are interested in a barter, approach someone that offers what you want. Make an offer. What's the worst that can happen? My hairdresser wouldn't get a weekly massage without bartering and my hair would be totally gray (never mind what my heels would look like) - oh and my boys would look like Shaggy from Scooby Doo. I wouldn't have a business website either. It has been well worth my time!
YES, there are a few gents (or so I hear) that are affiliated with SITS. I have yet to see/read one...but I have been told...
We DID have an AWESOME vacation. No, we didn't get eaten by any wildlife and we did not get lost in the woods. We didn't figure out that we could have a good time as a family - just remembered. Having 3 boys and such a busy life, we tend to forget how much fun it is to just slow down. This vacation helped us remember that and so much more. I will be blogging more about the wonderfulness of our vacation in the very near future...stay tuned!
My Abstinence blog brought in a LOT of comment! I am so glad you guys got so involved! So many different opinions but when it all comes down to it we all feel strongly about one thing: we love our kids and want what is best for them. I appreciate all the opinions!
Yes, I am ALWAYS in a hornet's nest. Of course, I also believe you create drama...and I do. Granted, there is nothing I can do about ER trips due to ear infections (8 hours from home) or trips to the ER because someone sliced themselves with an umbrella (who does that you ask...Z does that...he is his father's son - also 8 hours from home). But I certainly tend to have a bit of drama queen in me :) Oh, and when I was little, we were climbing a mountain and I SAT in a red ant hill...awful!
I don't have a fear of hornets (or any other flying insect) - at least not an irrational fear. I was stung earlier this year. It hurts like hell, but I survived.
The boys burned themselves on peanut butter about 6 months ago...they like to melt peanut butter and dip popcorn in for a snack. I think Z overheated it...it was boiling when I got to it. They both burned themselves pretty badly and that also required a trip to the ER. Ugh! They are their father's sons (who I had to bring to the ER once for burning his corneas while welding WITHOUT A MASK...of course, that was just one of our MANY trips for him).
Peggy, you did not give birth to me...unless my parents lied to me all these years AND my siblings were right when they told me I was adopted....and maybe Traci is right then...and I DO have a long lost sister named Debbie...
I can't believe the mass amounts of you that have NOT received pedicures - ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I don't care how "embarrassing" your feet are...isn't that why you GET a pedicure?! I don't care if you "hate" feet...they never did anything to you but cart your butt around your whole life - TREAT THEM! Seriously, you will thank me for it!
And for those of you that suggested getting up earlier (like 5am) to get a shower in...you have GOT to be kidding me! No way, no how. I love my sleep more than I love peace and quiet in the shower. And besides all that, I have not had a full nights sleep in over 8 years. A, my youngest, doesn't sleep through the night...never has. I take every second I can get :)
Karen, I don't use 2 in 1 any more (and my hairdresser knows - actually she buys my hair products for me - she TOTALLY rules - and NO I will NOT give any of you her name...you think I want to potentially ruin this deal for myself?). Well, actually, if I am being honest...while we were at camp...well...Pert became my new friend. But I SWEAR I dumped her as soon as we got home!!
Sassy Stephanie, I tried the lock on the fridge...he figured it out. How that child doesn't weigh as much as I do is BEYOND me!
Okay, so that is it. All questions answered...and if not, comment me, I'll do my best to get to you.
Keep coming back! Lots of exciting news to come! More pictures (cause my boys are THE CUTEST)...and more fun!
Showing posts with label hornet's nest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hornet's nest. Show all posts
9/10/08
8/15/08
Please don't let the bears eat me...
As I mentioned in yesterday's post, last time we were up at camp we had a bit of an adventure in the woods.......
At the camp there is a journal. Before you leave you can write down your memories of your visit. I love it. It is a great way to see what everyone else is doing up there. It is a great way to share memories and remember things that you had once forgotten. It is also a great way to remember the neighbor's names (cause I am SO bad with names). And last year, it was a great way to discover new adventures.
In the journal someone made mention to the fact that Uncle Bruce had built a bridge somewhere on the land for Mad Max (Mad Max was one of my Uncle's creations...a cross between a bulldozer and a tractor with a plow on the front). They also mentioned that you could get to the bridge by foot following the logging path. Tom said he had been there and that he could lead us through.
So off we went on the trek to the bridge the Bruce built...
I had forgotten my sneakers so I was hiking in flip flops which wasn't a big deal until the "path" became a jungle. At first the path was nice and clear. Every few feet more brush would appear. Soon we were hiking in thick brush up to my waist. A had to be carried on Kirby's shoulders because it was taller than he was.
I was getting eaten alive. The bugs were horrendous and the brush kept ripping at my skin. After about 45 minutes I was done. Irritated, tired, hungry and hurting. I wanted to turn around. Kirby wanted to keep going. We argued (shocking, I know), I won.
There was a problem, however. We turned around and, somehow, lost the path. It could have been that the brush was taller than my children so the "path" didn't really look like a path. It could have been that in my bloodless, starving, delirious state I got confused. Whatever it was, we were lost. Badly.
I must say here that Kirby has NO sense of direction. He believes he does and for the sake of the next 10 months I would never tell him otherwise. But he doesn't. North, South, East, West do not make sense to him.
So Kirby kept telling me that the path I was choosing was wrong. "We couldn't have come from that direction" he kept telling me. "It must have been this path"...
I didn't freaking care which path we came down to begin with I just wanted OUT! We were walking by piles of bear and moose crap...the bugs were eating me...the kids were whiny...it was starting to get dark...I WAS SCARED.
Z was scared and kept blaming Tom for getting us lost...I was scared and kept blaming Kirby for not letting me turn around sooner...and I think a small part of Kirby was scared that he may not be able to get us out. And poor Tom was scared because he was the one that lead us out there to begin with...and did I mention that we kept walking by PILES OF BEAR CRAP?
This was about the time that Momma went PSYCHO. Between the lack of food, low blood levels due to mosquito bites, the dwindling sunlight...the whiny children and pissy Kirby....and the fact that I was TERRIFIED that we were going to be lost in the woods forever and get eaten by one of the bears (that I am sure were rather large judging on the size of their crap)....well, I lost it.
I don't remember what was said. It is too humiliating to look back on. I am sure that my complete meltdown did not help matters. I am sure that I only succeeded in terrifying my children more....but I couldn't help it. I lost it. Completely lost it. I am ashamed of the way I reacted in an emergency.
Then, in a moment of sanity, I regained my ability to function like the sane, rational, smart, independent woman that I am.
I stood in the forest, caught a glimpse of the sun and realized where I was. I remembered that sitting in the camp I faced the sun in that direction. I realized the way that we needed to go. And I started walking.
"This isn't the path we took to get in" Kirby kept saying.
I told him that I didn't freaking care what path we took to get in, this was the path that was going to take us out...
And it did. Because I am amazing!
This year we will be much better prepared for a hike...IF there is any hiking. I'm talking bug spray, water, sneakers, loaded pistol...whatever...
At the camp there is a journal. Before you leave you can write down your memories of your visit. I love it. It is a great way to see what everyone else is doing up there. It is a great way to share memories and remember things that you had once forgotten. It is also a great way to remember the neighbor's names (cause I am SO bad with names). And last year, it was a great way to discover new adventures.
In the journal someone made mention to the fact that Uncle Bruce had built a bridge somewhere on the land for Mad Max (Mad Max was one of my Uncle's creations...a cross between a bulldozer and a tractor with a plow on the front). They also mentioned that you could get to the bridge by foot following the logging path. Tom said he had been there and that he could lead us through.
So off we went on the trek to the bridge the Bruce built...
I had forgotten my sneakers so I was hiking in flip flops which wasn't a big deal until the "path" became a jungle. At first the path was nice and clear. Every few feet more brush would appear. Soon we were hiking in thick brush up to my waist. A had to be carried on Kirby's shoulders because it was taller than he was.
I was getting eaten alive. The bugs were horrendous and the brush kept ripping at my skin. After about 45 minutes I was done. Irritated, tired, hungry and hurting. I wanted to turn around. Kirby wanted to keep going. We argued (shocking, I know), I won.
There was a problem, however. We turned around and, somehow, lost the path. It could have been that the brush was taller than my children so the "path" didn't really look like a path. It could have been that in my bloodless, starving, delirious state I got confused. Whatever it was, we were lost. Badly.
I must say here that Kirby has NO sense of direction. He believes he does and for the sake of the next 10 months I would never tell him otherwise. But he doesn't. North, South, East, West do not make sense to him.
So Kirby kept telling me that the path I was choosing was wrong. "We couldn't have come from that direction" he kept telling me. "It must have been this path"...
I didn't freaking care which path we came down to begin with I just wanted OUT! We were walking by piles of bear and moose crap...the bugs were eating me...the kids were whiny...it was starting to get dark...I WAS SCARED.
Z was scared and kept blaming Tom for getting us lost...I was scared and kept blaming Kirby for not letting me turn around sooner...and I think a small part of Kirby was scared that he may not be able to get us out. And poor Tom was scared because he was the one that lead us out there to begin with...and did I mention that we kept walking by PILES OF BEAR CRAP?
This was about the time that Momma went PSYCHO. Between the lack of food, low blood levels due to mosquito bites, the dwindling sunlight...the whiny children and pissy Kirby....and the fact that I was TERRIFIED that we were going to be lost in the woods forever and get eaten by one of the bears (that I am sure were rather large judging on the size of their crap)....well, I lost it.
I don't remember what was said. It is too humiliating to look back on. I am sure that my complete meltdown did not help matters. I am sure that I only succeeded in terrifying my children more....but I couldn't help it. I lost it. Completely lost it. I am ashamed of the way I reacted in an emergency.
Then, in a moment of sanity, I regained my ability to function like the sane, rational, smart, independent woman that I am.
I stood in the forest, caught a glimpse of the sun and realized where I was. I remembered that sitting in the camp I faced the sun in that direction. I realized the way that we needed to go. And I started walking.
"This isn't the path we took to get in" Kirby kept saying.
I told him that I didn't freaking care what path we took to get in, this was the path that was going to take us out...
And it did. Because I am amazing!
This year we will be much better prepared for a hike...IF there is any hiking. I'm talking bug spray, water, sneakers, loaded pistol...whatever...
8/12/08
Facebook, you are killing me!
I thought having a MySpace account was enough. The small part of me that desires to be a teenager again was fulfilled with MySpace. I thought I was good.
I was wrong.
After much contemplation and much fighting, Nicki, Jessi, Josiah and Will talked me into joining Facebook. And now I am in trouble. Seriously.
The mob is after me and it's all because of Facebook.
You see, Facebook is an addiction waiting to happen. While it is much like MySpace there are many different things (like you don't get endless chain letter like bulletins and it is, a little, more grown up). Facebook also has applications (which MySpace started using recently but I never paid any attention).
One of the applications is called Mob Wars. You join a mob, place hits, do jobs, take over the city, make money, fight people, kill people...you invite more friends to join your mob and increase your ability to defend yourself against other mobs. You see, it is just like a real mob.
While I am incredibly wealthy, own a beachfront hotel, a yacht, a container yard and can fight most anyone at my level, I am in trouble.
You see, my Facebook friends were smart enough to recognize the risks of joining the mob. Now my mob is too small. I get attacked and can't defend myself. I can't do the jobs that need to be done because I don't have enough mob members. My health is dwindling, and those that I have fought and won are coming back with gusto....they have even put out hits on me!
I am scared for my life.
The mob is after me and I don't know what to do....maybe it's time to change my name and go into hiding just like the family in Goodfellas...
I was wrong.
After much contemplation and much fighting, Nicki, Jessi, Josiah and Will talked me into joining Facebook. And now I am in trouble. Seriously.
The mob is after me and it's all because of Facebook.
You see, Facebook is an addiction waiting to happen. While it is much like MySpace there are many different things (like you don't get endless chain letter like bulletins and it is, a little, more grown up). Facebook also has applications (which MySpace started using recently but I never paid any attention).
One of the applications is called Mob Wars. You join a mob, place hits, do jobs, take over the city, make money, fight people, kill people...you invite more friends to join your mob and increase your ability to defend yourself against other mobs. You see, it is just like a real mob.
While I am incredibly wealthy, own a beachfront hotel, a yacht, a container yard and can fight most anyone at my level, I am in trouble.
You see, my Facebook friends were smart enough to recognize the risks of joining the mob. Now my mob is too small. I get attacked and can't defend myself. I can't do the jobs that need to be done because I don't have enough mob members. My health is dwindling, and those that I have fought and won are coming back with gusto....they have even put out hits on me!
I am scared for my life.
The mob is after me and I don't know what to do....maybe it's time to change my name and go into hiding just like the family in Goodfellas...
8/8/08
Rediscovering my passion
I love my job. I am so blessed to be my own boss, make my own schedule and make my own choices.
Lately, however, I have started dreading going into work. I have been dreading working with my clients, listening to the same music, making the same strokes.
I couldn't figure it out. I was wishing for clients to cancel or no-show. I was hoping that I wouldn't book up for the week. I was hating my job.
This weekend, thankfully, I figured it out: I needed a change of pace. I needed to mix it up a bit. I was bored.
Recently, a good friend asked me to make a house call. I don't typically do house calls. I have an office, I pay to use that office, why would I work outside of it if I don't have to. But I agreed. I knew that he couldn't get to me and, besides all that, it has been a long time since I have seen him and wanted to visit. So I packed up my equipment (35+lb table, linens, music, lotions, etc) and made the 90 minute trek to his home.
Honestly, had one more thing gone wrong I would have turned around. I would have taken it as a sign that I was not suppose to be there.
My day was packed. I had a board meeting in the morning, the massage and dinner in the evening with a girlfriend in town from Chicago. There was no time to spare and I had to leave the house bright and early.
I got up late. I had been out the night before with another girlfriend who was visiting from NC and, honestly, I had too much to drink. I had left the van downtown (smart girl) and had to walk to get it. I realized at the moment I am suppose to leave that my linens are not dry and I don't have any clean ones. Later still. I get to my board meeting 40 minutes late (there was an accident on the way there and I had to take a completely different route). Still no time to spare.
On the way to my massage appointment I start to get nervous. Incredibly nervous (did I mention that this good friend is also an ex-boyfriend). I want to pull over and turn around. I call Kitty (she is my crisis counselor lately) and she talks me through it. I will not puke, I will make it.
On 495 it starts to downpour. I don't mean rain, I don't mean rain hard, I mean DOWNPOUR! I was doing 25 in a 65mph zone and PASSING PEOPLE! I should have pulled over but I was in the middle lane and couldn't see to safely do that. I had to put my hazards on because I knew that anyone coming up behind me would not be able to see my little Honda civic.
The rain slows down just in time for me to get off the highway and I get lost. Seriously lost. I end up heading into Boston...totally the wrong way. So lost that when I FINALLY get to his home I am over an hour late.
Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, change of pace....
I asked him if there were any time constraints, he said no, I told him we were just going to work until we were done.
Seriously, it was one of the best massages I have ever given. Nearly 2 hours later we were done. I felt so rejuvenated afterwards. It was just me, the muscles and the music. I forgot about everything else and just worked. It was exactly what I needed.
I truly believe that if you find your passion and you make a career out of it you will forever be happy (that goes for you too Ms. Martini Molly). I was losing passion for my career...that can't happen. I need to not be bored.
I left there feeling so wonderful. I found my passion again and walked into work today feeling great about being there. I made a house call yesterday and didn't feel angry about it (of course, it was nearly a $400 day). I am looking forward to my three clients tonight.
I needed to mix it up. I needed to not talk and just work. I needed to remember why I started working to being with - I love the reaction. I love to make people feel better.
Thank god I found my way back.
Lately, however, I have started dreading going into work. I have been dreading working with my clients, listening to the same music, making the same strokes.
I couldn't figure it out. I was wishing for clients to cancel or no-show. I was hoping that I wouldn't book up for the week. I was hating my job.
This weekend, thankfully, I figured it out: I needed a change of pace. I needed to mix it up a bit. I was bored.
Recently, a good friend asked me to make a house call. I don't typically do house calls. I have an office, I pay to use that office, why would I work outside of it if I don't have to. But I agreed. I knew that he couldn't get to me and, besides all that, it has been a long time since I have seen him and wanted to visit. So I packed up my equipment (35+lb table, linens, music, lotions, etc) and made the 90 minute trek to his home.
Honestly, had one more thing gone wrong I would have turned around. I would have taken it as a sign that I was not suppose to be there.
My day was packed. I had a board meeting in the morning, the massage and dinner in the evening with a girlfriend in town from Chicago. There was no time to spare and I had to leave the house bright and early.
I got up late. I had been out the night before with another girlfriend who was visiting from NC and, honestly, I had too much to drink. I had left the van downtown (smart girl) and had to walk to get it. I realized at the moment I am suppose to leave that my linens are not dry and I don't have any clean ones. Later still. I get to my board meeting 40 minutes late (there was an accident on the way there and I had to take a completely different route). Still no time to spare.
On the way to my massage appointment I start to get nervous. Incredibly nervous (did I mention that this good friend is also an ex-boyfriend). I want to pull over and turn around. I call Kitty (she is my crisis counselor lately) and she talks me through it. I will not puke, I will make it.
On 495 it starts to downpour. I don't mean rain, I don't mean rain hard, I mean DOWNPOUR! I was doing 25 in a 65mph zone and PASSING PEOPLE! I should have pulled over but I was in the middle lane and couldn't see to safely do that. I had to put my hazards on because I knew that anyone coming up behind me would not be able to see my little Honda civic.
The rain slows down just in time for me to get off the highway and I get lost. Seriously lost. I end up heading into Boston...totally the wrong way. So lost that when I FINALLY get to his home I am over an hour late.
Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, change of pace....
I asked him if there were any time constraints, he said no, I told him we were just going to work until we were done.
Seriously, it was one of the best massages I have ever given. Nearly 2 hours later we were done. I felt so rejuvenated afterwards. It was just me, the muscles and the music. I forgot about everything else and just worked. It was exactly what I needed.
I truly believe that if you find your passion and you make a career out of it you will forever be happy (that goes for you too Ms. Martini Molly). I was losing passion for my career...that can't happen. I need to not be bored.
I left there feeling so wonderful. I found my passion again and walked into work today feeling great about being there. I made a house call yesterday and didn't feel angry about it (of course, it was nearly a $400 day). I am looking forward to my three clients tonight.
I needed to mix it up. I needed to not talk and just work. I needed to remember why I started working to being with - I love the reaction. I love to make people feel better.
Thank god I found my way back.
7/15/08
Beware of the car killer.
Don't forget to tell me your "10 can't live without 'em" songs! Help me make my next ITunes purchase!
Have I told you all before that I have the ability to run ANY vehicle into the ground? I do. Honestly. Every vehicle I have owned (and I have owned MANY) has dropped dead...usually while I am driving it.
My "Bovine" (my very first car...LOTS of good memories from that car) died on the way home from work one night. I blew a head gasket. My Colt died on the way TO work one day...the engine seize. A CV joint broke on one of the mini vans we have owned while I was driving home. I drove our Escort into 3 other cars...oh, the list goes on and on and on.
Most recently this was our van...yes...our NEW van. Of course, it was only new to us and had plenty of miles on it but, honestly, we bought it in May and I have already killed it.
Driving along, taking a break from my life, all of a sudden I hear a loud bang and the van lurches. I seriously thought I had hit something. I pulled over, nothing in the road, cars moved along past me oblivious to whatever had happened to me. I look under the hood and something is POURING out. Who knows what it was...I suspect transmission fluid.
I was not too far from home and figured I would just turn around and try to get back there. Nope. Not going to happen. The entire van starts to shake and rumble...the engine is rattling so loudly I can't even hear myself. What to do? Well, I parked it and walked home. In my white t-shirt in the pouring rain (Mommy boobies, wet t-shirt...the two don't mix...matter of fact, my boobies in a wet t-shirt have NEVER mixed...but that is for another blog).
So now I am driving the "old" van (yes, the one that we ripped a hole in the oil pan that Kirby patched with some fake metal filler stuff). Except for today.
Today I drove the Civic...but that's another story.
Have I told you all before that I have the ability to run ANY vehicle into the ground? I do. Honestly. Every vehicle I have owned (and I have owned MANY) has dropped dead...usually while I am driving it.
My "Bovine" (my very first car...LOTS of good memories from that car) died on the way home from work one night. I blew a head gasket. My Colt died on the way TO work one day...the engine seize. A CV joint broke on one of the mini vans we have owned while I was driving home. I drove our Escort into 3 other cars...oh, the list goes on and on and on.
Most recently this was our van...yes...our NEW van. Of course, it was only new to us and had plenty of miles on it but, honestly, we bought it in May and I have already killed it.
Driving along, taking a break from my life, all of a sudden I hear a loud bang and the van lurches. I seriously thought I had hit something. I pulled over, nothing in the road, cars moved along past me oblivious to whatever had happened to me. I look under the hood and something is POURING out. Who knows what it was...I suspect transmission fluid.
I was not too far from home and figured I would just turn around and try to get back there. Nope. Not going to happen. The entire van starts to shake and rumble...the engine is rattling so loudly I can't even hear myself. What to do? Well, I parked it and walked home. In my white t-shirt in the pouring rain (Mommy boobies, wet t-shirt...the two don't mix...matter of fact, my boobies in a wet t-shirt have NEVER mixed...but that is for another blog).
So now I am driving the "old" van (yes, the one that we ripped a hole in the oil pan that Kirby patched with some fake metal filler stuff). Except for today.
Today I drove the Civic...but that's another story.
7/7/08
4 hours too long...
This morning I got roped into taking another kid for the day. Well, roped isn't exactly the right term...more like guilted. And, honestly, nobody guilted me except myself.
J called this morning for Zach and asked for a "playdate". I explained that Zach was at Rec until noon then we were off to the beach for swimming lessons until 1. He asked if they could get together afterwards and I said I would have Zach call him. "There's just one thing" he says "my mom says that I have to go over someone else's house since she and my dad aren't here". I told him that was fine and asked if he wanted to come to the beach with us. He did and informed me that his mother would pick him up after six when she got out of work. I asked if I could drop him off earlier and he informed me that nobody would be there...
I take a look around my house (which we have barely been in for more than an hour over the past two weeks) and see disaster (and think NO WAY am I allowing anyone to come in here). So, now I have already invited this kid. This is when the guilt starts...
Honestly, I don't mind Zachary having friends over. J and Zach usually do really well together but for only a couple of hours at a time. They are both strong willed children and they each expect to get what they want when they want it. six hours is too long.
I decided that we would spend a good long while at the beach. Nothing better on a hot day - right? WRONG!
Andrew does not do well at the beach. He has NO boundaries. He gets overwhelmed. He has no concept of water safety. Essentially, a day at the beach means a day of me chasing Andrew away from other kids, their toys, food, towels, swim trunks...He wants to chat with the lifeguards, use their megaphone, trample another kid's sandcastle...I swear, I should be thinner considering the amount of running I do with him. I start conversations with other moms and abruptly drop it mid sentence to chase my child.
We got to the beach a little after noon, put some sunblock on and the boys took off. For the next four hours they played in the water, built sandcastles, searched for clams and had a great time.
Andrew wears a life vest at the beach because he often times gets into situations in the water he doesn't know how to get out of (he forgets he can't swim, he plays with bigger kids that accidentally dunk him, he wanders out over his head). Honestly, I am never more than 2 steps away but all it takes is two seconds. Unfortunately, the beach that we were at does not allow any flotation devices (Andrew was informed after he went into the water by one of the lifeguards). This just made my day that much harder.
After two hours in the water and sun I made them reapply their sunblock. I supervised them, I even reapplied myself. So tell me, why oh why do I look like this*:
And the worst part is that my kids look pretty darn similar. I have never felt so guilty in all my life. I know how much a sunburn hurts. I know how unbearable it is to sleep at night. I know how itchy you get on the third or fourth day...Ugh!
Aloe Vera for all...lots and lots and lots...
A part of me wonders if J looks similar and if his mother will ever trust me with him for six hours again...
*Of course, that is not really what I look like - close enough, minus the smiley faces.
J called this morning for Zach and asked for a "playdate". I explained that Zach was at Rec until noon then we were off to the beach for swimming lessons until 1. He asked if they could get together afterwards and I said I would have Zach call him. "There's just one thing" he says "my mom says that I have to go over someone else's house since she and my dad aren't here". I told him that was fine and asked if he wanted to come to the beach with us. He did and informed me that his mother would pick him up after six when she got out of work. I asked if I could drop him off earlier and he informed me that nobody would be there...
I take a look around my house (which we have barely been in for more than an hour over the past two weeks) and see disaster (and think NO WAY am I allowing anyone to come in here). So, now I have already invited this kid. This is when the guilt starts...
Honestly, I don't mind Zachary having friends over. J and Zach usually do really well together but for only a couple of hours at a time. They are both strong willed children and they each expect to get what they want when they want it. six hours is too long.
I decided that we would spend a good long while at the beach. Nothing better on a hot day - right? WRONG!
Andrew does not do well at the beach. He has NO boundaries. He gets overwhelmed. He has no concept of water safety. Essentially, a day at the beach means a day of me chasing Andrew away from other kids, their toys, food, towels, swim trunks...He wants to chat with the lifeguards, use their megaphone, trample another kid's sandcastle...I swear, I should be thinner considering the amount of running I do with him. I start conversations with other moms and abruptly drop it mid sentence to chase my child.
We got to the beach a little after noon, put some sunblock on and the boys took off. For the next four hours they played in the water, built sandcastles, searched for clams and had a great time.
Andrew wears a life vest at the beach because he often times gets into situations in the water he doesn't know how to get out of (he forgets he can't swim, he plays with bigger kids that accidentally dunk him, he wanders out over his head). Honestly, I am never more than 2 steps away but all it takes is two seconds. Unfortunately, the beach that we were at does not allow any flotation devices (Andrew was informed after he went into the water by one of the lifeguards). This just made my day that much harder.
After two hours in the water and sun I made them reapply their sunblock. I supervised them, I even reapplied myself. So tell me, why oh why do I look like this*:
And the worst part is that my kids look pretty darn similar. I have never felt so guilty in all my life. I know how much a sunburn hurts. I know how unbearable it is to sleep at night. I know how itchy you get on the third or fourth day...Ugh!
Aloe Vera for all...lots and lots and lots...
A part of me wonders if J looks similar and if his mother will ever trust me with him for six hours again...
*Of course, that is not really what I look like - close enough, minus the smiley faces.
7/3/08
Bathing Suit For Sale
One beautiful yellow bathing suit for sale. Size 16. Only been worn once. Offers lots of coverage and helps slim those areas that need slimming.
It does have one minor flaw: It's see through when wet.
Yup, you read that correctly. Just what every fat girl wants: A see through bathing suit for the beach full of families to see.
Every year when my "brother" from NYC comes home for a visit we do a night at the lake. The entire family gathers.
We eat:
We laugh:
My kids get some "manly" advice:
We build sandcastles:
We do our best not to scare the wildlife:
We swim:
However, we DO NOT offer free shows to anyone on the beach. At least, not intentionally.
This year I didn't have a bathing suit. The morning of the "Annual Night at the Lake" I flew to the closest store that sold bathing suits (the discount store 15 miles away). It took me FOREVER to find one my size. I asked where the changing rooms were and was informed that they don't have any and if it didn't fit I had 30 days to return it with tags in "saleable" condition.
Excuse you? Who buys a bathing suit without trying it on? Apparently anyone that buys a swimsuit from Ocean State Job Lots does...including me.
They were inexpensive so I grabbed two that I thought may fit. One yellow, one black. They did, indeed, fit. Andrew decided that I should wear the yellow to the lake that night, and since it was my favorite as well, I did.
After swimming with the little ones out at the buoys for a while I decided it was time to come in. Kirby took one look at me, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head and he, quietly, informed me that he could see "EVERYTHING"...I QUICKLY covered up and stayed that way until I was dry.
WHY, OH WHY, would anyone EVER sell a bathing suit meant for larger ladies that was SEE THROUGH?! When I questioned Kirby on this he replied, "well, now you know why it was at Job Lots". Yes, yes I do.
Later, after swimming a bit more I came out, covered by two kick boards. Zach didn't understand why I needed two kick boards when I wasn't even swimming...until I turned around and he announced, LOUDLY, "I CAN SEE YOUR TATTOO"!
You see, I have a very small, very respectable tattoo on my upper derriere. Now everyone knows that the swimsuit is see through (only the "dark spots", though).
So, I am sure you can understand why I will not be wearing this suit again and feel the need to rid my house of it immediately...
If you are the kind of girl that doesn't mind showing her goods on the beach (no judgement) please let me know. It's inexpensive, I won't even charge you what I paid for it which was, honestly, too much considering the results.
It does have one minor flaw: It's see through when wet.
Yup, you read that correctly. Just what every fat girl wants: A see through bathing suit for the beach full of families to see.
Every year when my "brother" from NYC comes home for a visit we do a night at the lake. The entire family gathers.
We eat:
We laugh:
My kids get some "manly" advice:
We build sandcastles:
We do our best not to scare the wildlife:
We swim:
However, we DO NOT offer free shows to anyone on the beach. At least, not intentionally.
This year I didn't have a bathing suit. The morning of the "Annual Night at the Lake" I flew to the closest store that sold bathing suits (the discount store 15 miles away). It took me FOREVER to find one my size. I asked where the changing rooms were and was informed that they don't have any and if it didn't fit I had 30 days to return it with tags in "saleable" condition.
Excuse you? Who buys a bathing suit without trying it on? Apparently anyone that buys a swimsuit from Ocean State Job Lots does...including me.
They were inexpensive so I grabbed two that I thought may fit. One yellow, one black. They did, indeed, fit. Andrew decided that I should wear the yellow to the lake that night, and since it was my favorite as well, I did.
After swimming with the little ones out at the buoys for a while I decided it was time to come in. Kirby took one look at me, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head and he, quietly, informed me that he could see "EVERYTHING"...I QUICKLY covered up and stayed that way until I was dry.
WHY, OH WHY, would anyone EVER sell a bathing suit meant for larger ladies that was SEE THROUGH?! When I questioned Kirby on this he replied, "well, now you know why it was at Job Lots". Yes, yes I do.
Later, after swimming a bit more I came out, covered by two kick boards. Zach didn't understand why I needed two kick boards when I wasn't even swimming...until I turned around and he announced, LOUDLY, "I CAN SEE YOUR TATTOO"!
You see, I have a very small, very respectable tattoo on my upper derriere. Now everyone knows that the swimsuit is see through (only the "dark spots", though).
So, I am sure you can understand why I will not be wearing this suit again and feel the need to rid my house of it immediately...
If you are the kind of girl that doesn't mind showing her goods on the beach (no judgement) please let me know. It's inexpensive, I won't even charge you what I paid for it which was, honestly, too much considering the results.
6/23/08
Never got out of that hornet's nest
When I was 8 (or so) a neighbor girl came over to play. This was a relatively rare occurrence because we didn't really live in a neighborhood. We lived in the boonies and to get to our house you had to either cross through an incredibly large field or go through the woods.
When it was time for her to go home I asked my father if I could walk her. He was fine but told me not to go past the woods...I did. There was a small path that went through the woods to the field that was behind her home. Of course, on my way back I couldn't find the path and had to cross through the woods.
I started crossing through the woods and all of a sudden I was getting stung OVER AND OVER AND OVER again. My parents had always told me that if you don't bother bees they won't bother you so I stood VERY, VERY, VERY still (I remember thinking about the Statue of Liberty). I could hear Dana looking for me (she was probably 4 at the time) and I kept yelling at her to go back to the house...she was crying and wanted me to come out.
Next thing I know I am being grabbed under both arms by my father and Roger (the guy who worked for him) who started running with me back to the house as fast as they could - they had seen a SWARM of hornet's over the bushes and heard me screaming.
I had stepped on a hornet's nest. I had no idea. All I knew was that I was getting stung and I had to stand still so I didn't bother them. Of course, standing on top of their home, crushing the life out of their family...I was bothering them.
A dozen or more stings, one trip to the ER, a shot to help stop an allergic reaction, lots of vomiting, a teddy bear and a grocery store trip later and I was fine (although my mother made salmon pie that night for dinner with canned salmon - the Bumble Bee kind - I thought that was rather ironic and harsh - I will NEVER eat canned salmon again).
My father got his revenge that evening by setting the nest on fire. I guess the bushes went up in flames as well...he claims that he is lucky the neighbors didn't have to call the fire department.
Monica jokes that I stepped in a hornet's nest at age 8 and never really got out...such is my life.
I am the one in my family that will lose a child at a graduation (because he WANTED the mugs in the school store that cost $16 and I told him no). I am the one whose car will break down in Baltimore, MD on a 4 lane highway (in the middle lane) during a spur of the moment trip to DC. It is me that will make 13 trips to the ER each year with a child that burned his fingers on peanut butter or a husband that burned his corneas because he didn't wear a mask while welding... THIS IS MY LIFE.
So it shouldn't be surprising that while pet sitting two parrots the screen door somehow locks behind me, my keys hanging from the door knob, the emergency phone numbers sitting on the counter, needing to be in Rochester in 30 minutes (being over an hour away), with two kids in tow and Kirby over 90 minutes away. I shouldn't have been surprised at all...but I was.
What to do? Well, I call Kirby (not for a fix, really, but for an ear for me to scream "WTF AM I SUPPOSE TO DO HERE" type thing) - he wants to tell me all the reasons why he can't help, "It'll take me over an hour and half to get there...I don't know what to tell you..." - I hung up on him.
I have to be in Rochester for Tom's graduation party... Andrew stinks to high heaven... Zachary keeps saying, "I am SO furryous". I say, "you mean FURIOUS".."yeah, furryous"... I have checked EVERY window, EVERY door, I tried prying the screen open, screaming, kicking - nothing worked.
WTF?!
So I cut the screen. What else was I going to do? I didn't have a choice. I cut the freaking screen.
Now, the $16/visit that she is paying me is going to go right back to her...to fix that stinking screen.
I never did get out of that hornet's nest...
When it was time for her to go home I asked my father if I could walk her. He was fine but told me not to go past the woods...I did. There was a small path that went through the woods to the field that was behind her home. Of course, on my way back I couldn't find the path and had to cross through the woods.
I started crossing through the woods and all of a sudden I was getting stung OVER AND OVER AND OVER again. My parents had always told me that if you don't bother bees they won't bother you so I stood VERY, VERY, VERY still (I remember thinking about the Statue of Liberty). I could hear Dana looking for me (she was probably 4 at the time) and I kept yelling at her to go back to the house...she was crying and wanted me to come out.
Next thing I know I am being grabbed under both arms by my father and Roger (the guy who worked for him) who started running with me back to the house as fast as they could - they had seen a SWARM of hornet's over the bushes and heard me screaming.
I had stepped on a hornet's nest. I had no idea. All I knew was that I was getting stung and I had to stand still so I didn't bother them. Of course, standing on top of their home, crushing the life out of their family...I was bothering them.
A dozen or more stings, one trip to the ER, a shot to help stop an allergic reaction, lots of vomiting, a teddy bear and a grocery store trip later and I was fine (although my mother made salmon pie that night for dinner with canned salmon - the Bumble Bee kind - I thought that was rather ironic and harsh - I will NEVER eat canned salmon again).
My father got his revenge that evening by setting the nest on fire. I guess the bushes went up in flames as well...he claims that he is lucky the neighbors didn't have to call the fire department.
Monica jokes that I stepped in a hornet's nest at age 8 and never really got out...such is my life.
I am the one in my family that will lose a child at a graduation (because he WANTED the mugs in the school store that cost $16 and I told him no). I am the one whose car will break down in Baltimore, MD on a 4 lane highway (in the middle lane) during a spur of the moment trip to DC. It is me that will make 13 trips to the ER each year with a child that burned his fingers on peanut butter or a husband that burned his corneas because he didn't wear a mask while welding... THIS IS MY LIFE.
So it shouldn't be surprising that while pet sitting two parrots the screen door somehow locks behind me, my keys hanging from the door knob, the emergency phone numbers sitting on the counter, needing to be in Rochester in 30 minutes (being over an hour away), with two kids in tow and Kirby over 90 minutes away. I shouldn't have been surprised at all...but I was.
What to do? Well, I call Kirby (not for a fix, really, but for an ear for me to scream "WTF AM I SUPPOSE TO DO HERE" type thing) - he wants to tell me all the reasons why he can't help, "It'll take me over an hour and half to get there...I don't know what to tell you..." - I hung up on him.
I have to be in Rochester for Tom's graduation party... Andrew stinks to high heaven... Zachary keeps saying, "I am SO furryous". I say, "you mean FURIOUS".."yeah, furryous"... I have checked EVERY window, EVERY door, I tried prying the screen open, screaming, kicking - nothing worked.
WTF?!
So I cut the screen. What else was I going to do? I didn't have a choice. I cut the freaking screen.
Now, the $16/visit that she is paying me is going to go right back to her...to fix that stinking screen.
I never did get out of that hornet's nest...
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