Vacation - Part 1 Preparation

It is time to get ready for our family vacation. I know that I should be grateful that we can take this trip, at least that's what I keep telling myself.

We are looking at a 22hour car ride to get to our destination. I am really dreading having to fill 22 hours of time in a vehicle with my beloved family. When I think back to the few family vacations we took as children I think about laying in the back of a station wagon trying not to throw up and asking "Are we there yet?"

On one particularly long drive we borrowed another family's conversion van. We were so pumped. This was before seat belt laws so we were looking forward to playing football in the back while my parents drove. It didn't quite go as planned. Mom kept yelling to keep it down and sit still then half way to the destination the air conditioning broke. Have you ridden in the back of any van without air conditioning? You might as well be seating in the waiting area at the Dry Cleaners.

There was the time that we traveled to the top of a giant hill in South Carolina, someplace called Fontana Dam I think? We took Grandma because the only reason we were going was to visit our Uncle who moved there. The road up the mountain went around and around and around and around. We stopped three times because everyone felt so sick - but nobody was throwing up - until Grandma had the bright idea to shove Dramamine down our throats. Then we stopped about 14 times so that we could all hurl.

Coming home from Florida my brother had turned sixteen so they had the bright idea to drive all night since they could switch drivers. Myself and younger brother and sister who are twins thought this would be so cool. We made beds fell asleep at 6:30 p.m. and woke up at midnight ready to party. We drove everyone nuts until about 3:00 a.m. when we were finally 1/2 hour from home. By the way, have any of you stopped at an I-75 rest stop at 2:oo a.m.? Those places are hoppin'!

My memories may be traumatic to say the least. I have never gone near Dramamine or South Carolina again I can promise. But there are also some side splitting, pee your pants laughing stories and that's what I hope my children can walk away with after this trip. Stay tuned for Part 2!

Put those kids Away!

In the past few weeks I have found myself using a disturbing phrase. O.k. well it's not that disturbing, I have worse phrases in my vocabulary, but I digress.

I will be telling someone a story regarding the kids and I use the phrase, "put the kids away." My mom was the first to hear it and commented, "Honey did you just say you were putting the kids away? Where may I ask did you put them?"

Am I that stressed out? Is life as a stay-at-home mom finally made me snap? Instead of putting the kids to bed, now I put them away. I started to wonder though how great an option that might be....think of it!

Before you leave for vacation: Things to do - Stop the mail, buy sunscreen, put the kids away.
The husband comes home from work with free tickets to a show, can you be ready in 20 minutes? Sure, 10 minutes for hair and make-up and 5 minutes to put the kids away.
Your girlfriend calls and says that the Elementary school carnival committee would like to meet for lunch at Applebee's next Tuesday can you get a sitter for the baby? No problem, I'll just put the kid away!

Please, do not send me hate mail as I am completely joking. I love my children and care for them 24/7, which is precisely why I have this sick sense of humor.

Time to regroup

We recently got a night to ourselves, after only 6 years and two kids. My children decided at the last minute to jump in the car with my parents and stay at Nanna and Papa's for an extra day. It was totally weird.


When you hear other people say, "Oh we went downtown, spent the night in a hotel, ate a fabulous dinner, and just had a romantic evening together while the kids were at the grandparents." It sounds like something out of a movie - who really does that! Everyone but us it seems. We do not live near family and do not have any expendable friendships. This was a whole new experience for us.


So the first thing I did was go to the gym and workout. I spent 45 minutes on the elliptical - GUILT FREE. No one was wasting away in the child care center watching Sponge Bob and getting lessons from the eight year old bully on words that will get you ousted from pre-school. I also spent 30 minutes with a personal trainer, which happens to be my husband. I got a great workout - he really kicked my behind. Which we then realized was not a good idea should we decide to get frisky later.

We went to lunch together, then I went home and took a nap - uninterrupted. I took a shower that lasted 25 minutes! 25 minutes with no one screaming, fighting, or pooping in unwanted places. I felt like a new woman. I gathered my To Do List and I was ready to tackle errands that have been sitting around for over a month with the joy of a kid on the last day of school. Then my husband calls. He tells me that he can't stop thinking about me and he wants the night to be special - see you in two hours.

I am a mess. I walk out of the house in such a panic that I had to turn around twice and go back to the house to retrieve items to return. I was as flustered as a Nun in a house of ill repute - as my father would say. Racing down residential streets, honking at children on their bikes, cutting in front of old ladies in the store, I was a mad woman.

I won't give you any unnecessary details of the evening, but I will tell you this. My husband and I made it home at the same time, I still had one thing to do before I surrendered (I wanted to blog in peace!) And he stood pacing outside the room. When I finished he pounced, we still had plenty of time to make dinner, take a walk, play a round of Rumicube and still be in bed by 10:00 p.m..

The next time my neighbors brag about getting rid of the kids I can chuckle inside knowing they can't stay up past ten either.

Blonde and codeless

Numbers are not my forte'. I was OK in the beginning. Learning numbers, memorizing my telephone number and street number. I was even OK when they started to mix it up with Grandparents, cousins, Aunts and Uncles. Ask me anyone's phone number from my childhood - I still have them stored up there in the old file cabinet we call a brain.

But it all got a little tricky when I went to college. Suddenly I had a new and growing group of people to add to the telephone number list. On top of that college requires you to identify yourself by your social security number and in certain cases a random group of numbers known as your student ID. Being on your own means that you acquire a bank account with an ATM card - for convenience - which is another set of entirely random numbers. Add to that security codes to get into certain buildings on campus including the five apartments I lived in while attending said college. Don't ask me any of those numbers - don't even ask me any of those addresses, that file cabinet was lost in a tragic fire.

After college (and I realize that I am sooo dating myself with this admission) was the boom of the cell phones and consequently I not only had to remember everyone's home phone but add to that their cell phone number. Also after college came marriage which by the way requires you to memorize another group of random numbers. Your husbands social security number, a new bank account number, credit cards, insurance cards, and several new telephone, cell and street addresses before it is all through.

Then come the children. I have given up trying to remember every random set of numbers I have ever met. It haunts me and quite often bites me in the rear. Like trying to register a child for Kindergarten, check out books at the library, or buy groceries. Everyone, everywhere, everything now a days requires a "code". I am happy to say, I am blonde and codeless!!

Other people's children

I love to hear other people's stories about their children, it makes me feel less freakish. Here is oneof my favorites.

My girlfriend's son who is 7 years-old is now taking showers by himself. Recently he came out of the shower and said, "Why do I only have one ball?" My girlfriend of course launched into, "Well if you would put your things away where they belong you would be able to find them!" Her husband gently stopped her rant and explained to their son that those are called testicles. Their son explained that he was squeezing them after he got out of the shower and one popped up there and did not come back out.

After a quick examination she made a call to the Pediatrician for an appointment. With his pants down around his ankles lying on the table with two Doctors examining his groin her son looked up at her and said, "Mom, this is the weirdest thing I've ever done." She told me she wanted to reply but they were all laughing to hard. The Dr. said that there is an opening like a button hole that allows the little fellows to pop in and out. Her son's opening would have to be enlarged so that they did not get stuck again.

Consequently she started to supervise the boys showers again, just until after the surgery. One night as she was toweling him off, she said let's get your - Kibbles and bits - her husbands name for the boys privates. Her 7 year-old looked at her and said, "Mom, their just Kibbles and bit."

Sibling stories....

We spent the weekend with my parents and my mom was telling a story about my sister.  Unfortunately she started telling this as she and I were walking into Wal-Mart.  We were laughing so hard by the time we got to the first aisle people were staring and/or dodging us.  Most places, that's not a big deal because the chances of someone seeing you know are slim.  When you are in Podunkville where everyone is related it is a lot harder to be discreet.  The story was totally worth it though.

When my older sister was three and I was "on-my-way" mom took her and went to church.  She was of course behaving very typically of a three-year-old at mass and making a scene.  So our mom finally decided to ignore her.  Being three, she occupied herself with something for a whole three minutes and then started poking my mom saying look at this, look at this!  Frustrated at the lack of attention she was getting from our mother, my sister hauled off and hit her.  This not only got mom's attention but others trying to ignore the squirming child.  Mom said when she looked down, seething, ready to read her the riot act, all she saw was a bare butt.  My sister had pulled her sun dress up, her panties down, and had her bare butt sticking straight up in the air saying, "Look at this, it hurts right here!"

Needless to say, she did not get scolded nor did she have to go to church for a long time after that.  I always said that sister of mine had it all figured out.