My Brother and the Saw

I've been writing ever since I can remember. One particular story I wrote as a kid was, like most fiction, based on a real life experience. It was immediately wadded up and pitched out, probably because it scared my mom.

My brother, who couldn't have been more than ten at the time, was working on a project. He had to make something out of wood, I don't know what or why - possibly a race car and possibly for Boy Scouts. I only remember it was wood because he had to use the electric saw in my dad's "workshop" (the garage).

I didn't know anything about saws except the kind in the garage were loud - even from inside the house with all the doors shut - and they could chop off your arm. I probably knew that leaving a child alone in the garage, working on one of them, was not a good idea. I don't recall why my dad wasn't in there with him, either - he could have stepped out for a second to feed the cats or he could have gone on a fishing trip for the weekend, I really can't remember (must be that temporary loss of brain power that I've come to know so well. Apparently my parent's had it, too).

All I know is, my mom and sister and me were watching TV when we heard the most awful, earsplitting cries of agony coming from the garage. Mom jumped up and raced to the garage door; my sister and I tripped over each other to get right behind her. She shoved her tiny body through the door and stopped short. We bumped into her butt and each took a side to peek around.

He was singing.

My sister laughed. Mom cried. I wrote a story with an alternate ending. My mom didn't like it.

We all deal with anxiety and stress in our own way.

the calendar

My mom always had THE CALENDAR when we were growing up. Between three kids, dance classes, baseball practice, soccer games, piano lessons, school functions and anything else thrown into the mix, she needed it to keep her sanity. Actually, I'm still not sure it helped with that, but at least we knew who went where and when (you know, as long as she looked on the calendar and reminded us four or five times).

I never gave the calendar much thought. As I said, we barely paid attention to it, even then - it was just a landscape picture with a bunch of filled-in squares that met us at the refrigerator before we opened the door to scrounge for snacks before dinner.

Now, though, between the husband's wonky work schedule, Monsoon's baseball practice (yes, my baby started his first season this week) and new preschool hours, Dorothy's doctor appointments and visits with her kids, my every-other-week as worship teacher for Monsoon's class at church, and whatever else we throw on top....?

I've moved our calendar to the front of the fridge, and the once-blank squares just don't seem nearly big enough to accommodate all of our plans. It happened so suddenly, yet I'm quite certain this is simply the tip of the ice burg.

Softball. Again. Are you kidding me?

My husband the softball player. He hasn't played in 2 years, 4 months and 10 days. It's like an addiction from which a guy never actually recovers.

For over a decade, he missed family functions; we cut vacation trips short; I spent entire weekends on metal bleachers, eating hot dogs for three meals a day and trying to ignore the rancid smell of the only 2 port-o-pots provided for all of 582+ over-ripe men to share. And that was the normal part.

Skipping my sister's wedding? Copping out of parental duties 2 mere days after bringing Monsoon home from the hospital? Dropping me at our best friends' wedding and never coming back so that the BRIDE had to take me home? Telling me I just don't understand about loyalty? Team loyalty, that is. Those things crossed a line.

So he quit, finally, to focus on school and finding a good job (and totally not because I threatened his life). It's been blissful. I love having weekends free all spring/summer/fall. I enjoy doing things with him rather than watching him do things while my butt goes numb.

But now he has this job. It's not a great job. It's not even a good job, but it's a job and we're thankful he has it. It's a big company, though, with lots of room to grow, and quickly.

Plus... PLUS - all the big bosses play softball, and they're all thrilled that he can play on their team.

Lucky us. Now he has to play ball. Guess I'll be getting that bleacher cushion out of storage.

Two kids are funnier than one.

Things overheard from Monsoon (4) and cousin Sassy(3) since we got to our hotel yesterday evening:

Sassy: "I'm hunnnngryyy."
Me: "I'm getting dinner ready now."
Sassy: "Let's just eat crap first." (potato chips and suckers)
I thought this was much funnier before my husband explained how he told her potato chips and suckers were "crap" food. Gah, it can't be the first time she's heard the word crap. I hope.

I asked them both to brush their teeth before bed, and of course forgot to get them tooth paste until after they started. When I tried to put it on then, Sassy thought she already had tooth paste and didn't want me to put it on her tooth brush. Monsoon, apparently, has learned the fine (and annoying) art of tattling.
Monsoon, to Sassy: "Blugh, you're breaf smells hoooorible."
Monsoon, to me: "Sassy did NOT use toof-paste."

Me and the kids laid down for bedtime and apparently I was the most sleepy. I was almost out when I heard the husband shut the bathroom door and...
Sassy, whispering: "Come on, Monsoon. Let's get some chips!"
Monsoon: "We can't!" (I'm so proud)
Sassy: "Why?"
Monsoon: "Because! Only my mommy is asleep right now." (sneaky thing)

We registered for a live MagiQuest scavenger hunt game, and the lady asked me what Sassy's screen name would be. Sassy promptly replied (as if our lives depended on it to be exactly right), "Jewel. Of. Liiiife."

All this and it's only been a few hours so far. Hopefully I can sleep past 5am the rest of the week - I have a feeling I'll need the extra rest. Although, it is nice having time to write a blog post before anyone else is awake...

6WS: Cabin Fever? I don't think so.

Still loving the white fluffy stuff.

Show My Face hosts the fabulous Six Word Saturday. Check it out.

The perfect day

Vacations are a lot of fun. Holidays twinkle with excitement for weeks in advance. Birthdays explode with songs and smiles. But the days that stand out? The ones that count for something beyond ceremonious expectancies? Days that really matter. They usually require no planning, no anticipation, they give no remote indication of turning into a super day... until it's nearly over and you wish you could go back to that morning and tell yourself to put on your happy pants because it's gonna be one of those.

I suppose, if we knew in advance, it wouldn't be quite so spectacular. Part of the fun is in not knowing what the next moment will bring. No expectations. Just pure, unedited life.

Waking up early when I thought I was going to get to sleep late, and then getting an hour to myself, drinking coffee while Monsoon enjoyed time to his own self with a box of legos.

A Saturday shower with my husband.

A complete and utter meltdown because Monsoon changed his mind about which spoon he wanted with his yogurt, even though he doesn't like yogurt.

"I can't get my cries out, Mommy." We all feel that way, sometimes. Like maybe we're so full of tears and shudders that if we got in the bathtub, we wouldn't need to turn on the faucet. Sometimes, we just need to let it out, and we'll be better. Sometimes, we don't even know what we're crying about.

Telling the "Mommy saves the day" story. Monsoon taking a nap. A rare, once-every-4-months-or-so nap. On my lap, no less, while I read a good book.

"I'm a baby today, Mommy." That's fine, baby. I'll get the big blanket and show you how I used to swaddle you. You like it so much, you ask me to do it over and over again all day. "Tighter this time," you say. So maybe you can't wriggle free and I'll keep you close to me forever. You're a baby today, because you seem to think that big boys of 4 shouldn't need extra hugs from their Mommies. I don't mind if you want to pretend, but I wish you could let me love you freely.

An hour of preparation for 20 minutes in the snow. His first time sledding. Introducing him to the sledding hill - the one we went to as children. Letting him "steer" the sled. Turning around half way down and accidentally finishing the hill backwards. Twice.

"No, Honey Pot, I can't sit in your lap."

Candy Land, Sorry, Rhino Rampage, a game of War that lasted much longer than one might expect, considering we only used a quarter of the deck, the cards to which were a special gift with our family picture on the back. And the plumber game.

"Let's play that plumber game, Mommy." He means poker. Flushes and all that.

Family movie night, Monsoon's choice. My husband makes popcorn on the stove-top. The boy and I share a few Jr. Mints. He's unbelievably happy sitting on the couch, just the three of us and our snacks.

"When I lived in your belly, I held your heart." Sigh. You still do, son. You still do.

Mean wifey

Poor husband went out with his friends after Thanksgiving dinner last night. Poor, poor husband drank too much and got home sometime after 3 a.m. Rough, huh?

Thing is, before he went out, he promised he'd go shopping with me this morning. It's actually something we both have enjoyed doing for years - looking through ads and planning our Black Friday super duper deal shopping. Getting up early, rushing out to find those unbelievable bargains before someone else snatches them up. Ah, the thrill of the kill.

So this morning, when poor husband was groggy and foggy, I insisted that he keep his promise (although he wants to make sure no one thinks I tell him what to do, so for the record, he totally made his own decision. Like anyone would think I could make him do anything. Bah). He grumbled and mumbled and grouched and slouched, but Monsoon and I had tons of fun anyway. In fact, the two of us spent a good hour in ToysRUs while husband napped in the freezing car. He seemed fairly comfy.

By lunch time, he was almost awake. It only took 3 cups of coffee and a 20oz mountain dew. Looking back, I should probably not have had as much caffeine as him throughout the day. I'm wired at 10 p.m.

Big Cooking Day. It was BIG.

It's an interesting concept... cooking your meals for the month in one day. Only having to thaw and heat up dinner, no sink full of messy pots and pans each night, having everything planned out ahead of time. The best part? Once a Month Mom does the paper work and organizing, so all that is required is following directions.

Everything is set up for two people, so I forced my mom to do it with me. She has freezer space and I don't. She likes to keep busy and I don't. I like to eat and she doesn't. It worked out pretty fairly, I think.

On Thursday, I spent three hours at the grocery store. Three hours! But all that time buying bulk items and calculating costs ended up saving us about 50% off the bill, so it was worth it. Maybe.

On Friday, it took two hours to cut up all the veggies we would need for our "Big Cooking Day." All I can say is, thank goodness for Monsoon's help. Sure, he made a big mess (of course I didn't, I'm not messy), but he also made the experience -which should have been violently boring - enjoyable. In the time it took me to peel 3 pounds of carrots, Monsoon shaved two of them down to nubs:
Here is a comparison of a whole carrot with a nub of a carrot:

See how helpful he was? The 10 pounds of onions may have been getting to me, but I laughed til I cried. Oh yeah, and our entire house still smells of onion.

Saturday was the big day, starting at 9 a.m. It was an 8 hour cooking frenzy, but we did it. Each of us now have 16 dinners in the freezer, labeled and ready to eat (okay, thaw, heat, then eat).

Would I do it again? Absolutely. If you try it, though, here's a big tip: tell your sister to keep her own kids that day, and while you're at it, have her take yours as well. Three screaming children distracted my mom from doing all the work for me made it a little more stressful than it should have been.

We actually tried the first dinner last night. It was OAMM's Mom's spaghetti sauce, and let me just say, I may never go back to store-bought again. Husband and I ate an entire jar, and licked our plates. It was that good. I wish I had thawed another jar so we could eat it again tonight.

6WS: Once-a-month big cooking day

Eight hours in kitchen with mom.

Visit Show My Face for more six word fun this Saturday!

Fall photo-op

The best traditions often start out as just an ordinary thing, and become tradition because of the deep, unexpected feeling that it brings. Such is the case with our annual fall photo-op.

Monsoon was 1 the first time I showed him how to gather and toss dry, colorful leaves into the wind. I happened, as I always did then, to have my camera... and so the photo shoot at our local park began. They were some of the best pictures I'd ever taken of him. We played, we laughed, we hugged and we discovered. That first year, he was simply happy to be with me.

The second year, he was more independent. He still wanted me close, but the adventure was in discovering how far he could get before I ran after him. By then, he knew the cement lions were only statues and he wasn't afraid of climbing the gazebo steps. He hadn't yet figured out that, even if he couldn't see me, I knew where he was hiding. I can still hear the giggles emanating from behind that tree.
Last year didn't hold quite as many innocent smiles. He wasn't as excited to walk around the historic area of the park; wasn't as content to have only mommy. There were other kids playing on the playground near us, distracting him from the trees and the monuments and... well, me. At first I thought the photos didn't turn out as well as previous years, but then I realized the difference wasn't so much in my camera. He was starting to grow up, starting to look away, starting to drift...
This afternoon will be our 4th fall photo shoot. I'll be carrying tissues in my camera bag.

To participate in Wordful Wednesdays, head over to 7 Clown Circus. The theme this week is inspired by the movie MOTHERHOOD, opening this Friday.

Bad Mommy Weekly: Bad Aunt-A edition

My son isn't usually a drama queen. He rams his head into walls and spills himself down flights of stairs, usually jumping back up with a quick "I'm okay!" He isn't afraid of spiders and doesn't mind when the dog jumps on his belly or licks his face. He's even hard to discipline at times because he just doesn't care about having a toy taken away (unless I put it in the garbage) or having to sit in time out (unless I start the timer).

There are very few things that I know for sure will upset him. Every time. One of them is water. One minute drop or splash anywhere on his face, and the kid could take Kim Basinger's spot as Vicki Vale. It's ear-splitting. When he first learned to stand, he went a good six months where he refused to sit in the bath. He would only stand. He's four now and still will not lay down in the tub. Needless to say, rinsing shampoo out of his hair has always been quite the chore.

When I put my niece in the tub with him this afternoon and accidentally spilled a stream of water down her face, I froze with the anxiety of what was to come. Aaaannnnddd.... nothing. She didn't care. It was amazing. Shocking, even. So much so, that I did it again - on purpose. Still, nothing. Seriously? If I tell this girl she can't put her sucker in dog poo, she could beat out any celebrity on the planet for "best scream" if there were an academy award for such a thing, but water in her face doesn't phase her? I dumped an entire bucket of water over her head, just to see it again. Still nothing! She just... kept playing. Yes, I'm a bad Aunt-A weekly, too.

Sister, I promise, I wasn't trying to drown her. I love her!

A seasonal addiction

There's something about Autumn. The crunchy leaves, the smell of apples and burning wood, the chill in the air... Right between the suffocating heat of summer and the icy, hibernation-inducing months of winter. It's like a breath of fresh (albeit moldy at times) air. It also makes me yearn for bookstores and coffee shops.

Seriously, I can't stay away. Before Monsoon, I would stop off at Borders on my way home from work or school at least twice a week. Sometimes I'd leave the house for only the purpose of clutching a steamy cuppa joe in my fingers and browsing the book shelves for hours.

Nowadays, it's a bit different. Monsoon and I can make a bookstore/coffee trip once a week if we're lucky. I switched from pumpkin spice to sugar-free whatever, and he gets hot cocoa or sugar-free vanilla kreme Kula, depending on the time of day. We spend all our time in the children's section, skimming for catchy titles or fabulous artwork and reading out loud those stories that interest us enough to do so.

I'm trying to instill in him a love of all things literary. I hope, as he grows up, we can continue to share these beautiful Autumn days at the bookstore. I hope he learns to enjoy it as much as I do - not just for soothing paper mug in our chilly hands, but for the beauty and magic that is the world of books.

For now, I don't mind spending most of my bookstore time in his section. I love watching his eyes light up at every sip. I smile hearing him giggle at a silly story line. The best part might be the lump in my throat that presents itself anytime my son begs me to "read it again, Mommy!" with such enthusiasm.

It's an addiction, it's getting worse, and I think I'm passing it on. Hooray!

My husband threw up in front of Anthony Edwards

I woke up yesterday morning feeling a little like it was my birthday. My birthday when I was little and I knew everything would be sunshine and musicals and nothing could possibly go wrong. I was going to speak with Anthony Edwards! I was going to be part of a panel of awesome bloggers to ask questions about his life and his role in the upcoming movie, MOTHERHOOD. It was going to be a great day.

Also in the plans for the day... wine tasting and lunch at an upscale restaurant 1 1/2 hours away with the fam. We were meeting at 11:30, so I figured there'd be plenty of time to eat and drink (except I was the DD, so mostly just eating for me) and get outta there by 1:30, home by 3:00 - just in time for the conference call.

Who knew it would take 2 hours to taste only half of the wine list? By the time I needed to get on the horn, my relatives were on their 12th glass of wine and my husband had spent the last 1/2 hour in the bathroom. Not good.

I had to run to the car where it was quiet! Sitting in the car in the middle of a mall parking lot talking to Anthony Edwards and trying to remember the questions I had submitted, I felt a little like a weirdo-stalker-chick. Half way through the conference call, I was thanking God for the mute button. Here come my peeps, stumbling and laughing, to drop my husband off in the grass next to the car. If not for mute, the fabulous moms and Mr. Edwards himself might have heard my dad slurr-yell-laugh something about locking Hubs out of the back seat and maybe even a heave-ho from the grass section a few feet away. My husband threw up in front of Anthony Edwards.

It was not my birthday - it was more like that time in junior high when my mom came to school dressed as a cat.

side note: The conference call was fantastic in all other aspects - I might even be in love with Anthony Edwards after hearing all his talk of empowering women and helping children in Africa. I'm planning to review the recording of the call and post a more serious piece (with plenty of name-dropping) about the conversation, the movie, and Mr. Edwards' goals for a very special project, Shoes4Africa, in the very near future. Please stay tuned.

Profile of a Superhero

Super-name: Mommymommymommymommymommymommymommymommy. (You can just call me Mommy.)

Super powers: Child wrangling; stain removing; tantrum prevention; crayon confiscating; and of course, hiding an extra set of eyes in the back of my head. I have also recently perfected "THE LOOK" with my front eyes.

Hobbies: I enjoy running cartoon interference and playing the 'nighty-night' game.

Annoying habits: I often find myself "Sshh-ing" when no one is around. This might be annoying if anyone actually were around, but I am a superhero here, so annoying habits are off the table.

Alter-ego: Make-up wearing sophisticate who can always find clean clothes and a nice pair of heels. The original prototype for this woman was 30 pounds lighter, but has unfortunately been forced to pack on weight for a more realistic disguise. She also never EVER wears furry houseshoes outside, nor does she still secretly wear maternity underwear 4 years after giving birth. There is never spit-up on her shirts and her socks always match. She does not forget to wear a bra on occasion and always remembers to shave her legs. Her hair has zero rat nests and she doesn't even own a hair-tie.

Catch-phrase: "It's pony-tail time!" This is derived from numerous attempts at letting my hair down, only to be called back to duty by an unruly child or contaminated toilet.

Who is YOUR inner superhero?

The Bad Mommy Weekly, issue 7; Channeling my mother

I love my mom, and she was great at so many things - always signing up for field trips and throwing extravagant birthday parties. Patience, however, was not her forte. Maybe she owned that virtue once upon a time, but the woman had 3 children in 4 years. She could have been grappling with insanity and none of us would have noticed because she always put us first. I, on the other hand, am ordinarily very patient with Monsoon. It's not easy, but I can almost always keep my cool, or at the very least laugh it off (it helps that I have a better support system than she did, and that I only have one child).

Last fall, my sister and I took Monsoon and Prissy (my niece) to a festival. The husbands were busy cutting down a tree or some such business, and after they nearly dropped a limb on our neighbor's classic corvette, my nerves were burning on end. We finally scurried out of the house, kids in tow, and headed for the big ta-do a half hour away.

Twenty minutes into the drive, Monsoon has to pee. Did I mention this festival was in the middle of nowhere? I might also tell you that Monsoon has an irritating habit of waiting until the very last minute to tell me he has to go. There are no stores, no restaurants, not even a freaking McDonalds on the way to this place, and the road was too busy to pull over.

I told him he'd have to wait, and I wasn't nice about it. We made it to the line of cars outside the gate. We could smell the funnel cakes, we were so close. That's when I heard, "oops," and I should have just smothered myself in a plastic bag right then and there.

Instead, I screeched into the parking lot, growling and yelling and looking back every few words to give him the stink eye. He told me, "It's okay, Mommy." No! No it is most definitely NOT okay! "Take your deep breafs, Mommy," he sniffled. I was heartless. I threatened to go straight home and he could just keep sitting in his pee all the way back and if he had to pee again, he could just pee right there and warm himself back up again! I got out of the car and stomped around until my feet were numb, yelling and berating him some more. He cried, he was ashamed, he didn't know how to handle this mommy with no patience. I completely lost it. It. Was. Bad.

When I got back into the car, the look on my sister's face was indescribable. All she said was, "Whoooaaaa....." and I knew what she was thinking. Mom.

We ended up driving another ten minutes down the road to K-mart and picking up something for him to wear to the festival. He apologized all day, and so did I. The last time I peed my pants was in my mom's van. I was 14 years old. She was right to be pissed. I was out of line with Monsoon. Bad, bad mommy.

What's your bad mommy story? If it's a real doozy, write a post and leave your link in the comment section.

They don't call me Princess for nothin'

Standing on top of the slide, physically underlining each syllable with a stomp of my foot, "It's my birthday and I can do whatever I want!" They had to hear it sometime, my parents. What did they mean, why did I push my sister off the top of the slide? I think I was 6.

Yesterday, on my 31st birthday, my dad gave me permission to bark at anyone I want. Miss Kitty said I could be a diva anytime I needed to be. My mom relinquished her throne and title, warning me that it's not easy being Queen. My husband rubbed my feet, and Monsoon saved me a pancake with sprinkles.

Now that I'm allowed to do whatever I want, it doesn't seem quite as necessary.

Use my what!?

I always knew I was a superhero. Now I know what makes me super.

Monsoon and I went to the bounce house place the other day. I know better than to go there without a second child, but there weren't any available so I put on my big girl sports bra and prepared to sweat.

One particular bounce toy - named the spider for it's web-like climbing apparatus - is quite difficult. You can't get to the top of the really big slide if you can't climb up through the elastic webs, so I helped the boy out.

I had to stop on every level to reach down and pull him up. When I finally got to the top, I reached down to grab his hands, and noticed my boobs were most of what was keeping me from falling back through the holes. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, but I certainly didn't think anyone else would notice the stretches of web stuck underneath the weight of my chest. I kept trying to pull Monsoon up; he was grunting like it was hard even though he had stopped helping by this point and it was all on me. Think Sylvester Stallone in Cliffhanger, scene 1 (I think).

"Come on, Mommy! Use your utter power!"

So... now he knows my super secret. It's all in the utters.

Flashback Friday: What were they thinking?

I always thought of my folks as responsible, loving parents. A bit extreme about sticking to rules and curfews and nonsense, but at least they cared. There are times, however, that I look back on and wonder what they were thinking.

I remember sitting in the living room with my mom and sister watching tv or something. My dad had gone somewhere and left my brother to finish his race car for boy scouts. Oscar, maybe a tweenager, was in the garage... by himself. Using a saw. Nobody seemed bothered by this, until the awful screeching (think Little Mermaid, Arial's birdy friend Scuttle) like someone's arm was being ripped from his torso. You can imagine the speed with which my mother ran to the garage, my sister and I following in her wake.

Oh, the surprise to find him belting out lyrics to "You make me feel like a natural woman..." (Don't blame him - that song was quite catchy when you heard it every other commercial break for Lee Jeans). He was equally surprised to look up and find us staring him down.

Now I look back on it and think, What the hell, Mom and Dad? I couldn't go out with that nose-ring guy on his motorcycle at 13, but you let Oscar stay in the garage with the saw after that episode? Life is so not fair sometimes.

This post is part of Scary Mommy's Flashback Fridays, happening once a month now. If you have any memories to share or some old posts you love that need to brought back out of the shadows, hit up this meme. It's a lot of fun!

Vacation: A day-by-day account of activities and ice cream

Day #1: On the road for 7 hours, we heard a lot of "my butt hurts!!!!" and "I just want to go to the beach!" It's hard for a kid to understand about distance - why on Earth don't we just live closer to it?

Day #2: Second day on the road, also the day of the Offensive Little Comments. We arrived at our hotel on this day, and Monsoon promptly got his head stuck in our 8th floor balcony rail. We ventured out to the beach in our clothes, expecting the boy to be afraid of the ocean like last year, so of course he ran right into the giant waves with great pleasure. Had pizza for dinner and ice cream for dessert. Mint chip.

Day #3: Road our bikes down the 3-mile boardwalk and back, spent the afternoon at the beach and walked the shops. Monsoon made up an imaginary friend, she was a baby and had to come with us - he insisted on pushing her in the stroller the whole time we were out that night, until we stopped for ice cream (chocolate/vanilla swirl). That's when she started jumping into garbage cans and onto lamp posts so he had to save her while I pushed the empty stroller.

(at some point I tried to turn off the date stamp on my camera, but it went back to january of '06 instead, then kept flipping back & forth on it's own. Stupid thing)

Day #4: Ocean was too choppy for jet skis, so we rented kayaks on the inlet instead. After trying it (I was pretty nervous about flipping) I want my own kayak. I could do that every day! We stopped for ice cream (vanilla w/ cherry dip) after, and later had rich Italian dinner and tirimisu for dessert.
(my butt is now twice this size)

Day #5: Hubs and I had a romantic lunch, just the two of us. How did we accomplish this feat, you ask? Purely by accident... we left Monsoon in the hotel. Kidding. It was a late lunch (after a bike and beach morning) and he fell asleep leaning on my arm before we even got our drinks! He didn't even wake up when we polished off our apple crumble ala mode.

Barely made it to the Virginia Aquarium to pet sting rays, coo over baby lager head turtles and look at sharks up close (they're kind of scary). We stopped later for ice cream (mint/chocolate swirl). And fudge.

Day #6: Beach and playground morning, then stopped for ice cream (chocolate w/ sprinkles) before we left town. Half way home, we remembered the laptop has a dvd player and stopped to pick up some movies for poor Monsoon who's butt hurt by hour two. A West Virginian black bear came running at our car out of one of the mountains, but apparently noticed the mac truck behind us so he screeched to a stop before crossing the highway. It was pretty cool. Back in Ohio that night, still a couple hours from home, we ran into a nasty storm and Hubs had us looking out for tornadoes (he's a paranoid freak, have I mentioned?). One flash of lightening lit up the whole sky and I saw something white and cylindrical ahead of us, so I kept looking in that direction to try and see what it was when the sky lit up again. I noticed hubs looking in the exact same spot - he had seen it, too. It wasn't my imagination. We breathed a sigh of relief when we could see for another flashing second and nothing was there. Five minutes down the road, we saw paths across the road and missing tress, and we knew what we had seen. Ca-ree-peeee!

TAT: Vacation Edition

It was day 2 of vacation. We stopped about 2 hours from the beach (yes we were stiiiill on the road) for the 3rd and most whiny "I hafta potteeeeeeee" break in twenty minutes. Needless to say, the boys were getting a bit fed up with my pea-sized bladder.

When I came out of the bathroom (after a long wait), dear husband was in line for caffeine and had Monsoon in a football hold, angry thermometer face on and temp rising. Oddly, the boy seemed perfectly happy, so I took him and headed outside to stretch our legs. Before we made it to the door he pointed and said, "Look at him!" He was really really excited, but I knew right then why hubs was so red.

I, too, had noticed the little person waiting in line when we first went in, and made a mental note to work out a specific version of my "everybody is different and that's a good thing" spiel, just in case. I don't mind when Monsoon asks about people, and I try to be prepared because he does ask. A lot. Unfortunately, husband was not prepared. At all.

When they got in line behind this man, Monsoon not only asked about him but made a HUGE deal about the guy being little like him, jumping and yelling about it while my husband could only "SSSHHHHhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!" him. Monsoon was so excited about a grown-up being his size, he just couldn't stop going on about it. Really, he thought it was the coolest thing ever.

We had a discussion about it when we got to the car (which is when hubs told me what happened). Monsoon is still confused about why something so cool might embarrass someone.

If you want more awkward stories (of course you do!) or if you have some of your own awkward moments to share (of course you do!) head over to Tova Darling for her Totally Awkward Tuesdays.