During the summer after fifth grade, I went to sleep away camp for a week.    It was 1985 and one of the hit songs of the summer was “On My Own” by Patti LaBelle and Michael McDonald.  That really isn’t important to the story, but I just thought I add that little morsel of knowledge in there in case you ever need it in a trivia situation. 

Camp, to me, was fabulous!  It was my first time away from home where I wasn’t staying with family, but being cared for by responsible TEENAGERS.   I adored the cabin I shared with other squealing girls, it was like we were all grown up, living in our own house.   The smell of wood and bug spray permeated the air, as did the scent of Payday candybars (nonmelting!).  Each day was spent eating at the mess hall, complaining about the food (but secretly LOVING it), swimming, crafts with sticks and yarn, and all sorts of other camp-like activities.  It was very campy.

On the next to last day of camp, I hit a significant milestone in my physical development.  Laying upon my cot, chatting and giggling with the other girls, I remember rolling over onto my stomach to fall asleep and feeling…something.   Where my flat chest once resided, were now two knots?!  Literally overnight (or overday?) I had sprouted little boobies.   I felt so different and grown up, like a real WOMAN.

The next day, I held my head up proudly and stuck out my chest to show off my new knockers.   I was sure everyone was looking at me and thinking, “wow!  She got her boobies!”  Really, though, they were probably thinking, “Oh that poor girl.  What an awkward stage she’s in.”

Um, yeah, so I guess that’s the end of the story.  Huh?  This idea seemed better in my head.  Just wait until I tell you the story about when I started my period on the last day of 7th grade while wearing a white dress.  Now THAT is an AWESOME story.

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Carson handing the conductor his ticket.  (He’s so cute and serious!  I could cry!)

I may or may not have felt the a lump in my throat and my eyes fill with tears when I first saw Thomas. The sheer joy on Carson’s face combined with my own excitement of seeing a real, live Thomas, made it very difficult not to well up and openly bawl in front of thousands of strangers.  Of course I didn’t actually cry, but I might have felt like it.  Maybe.  (Why do I always feel teary at things like this?  What is WRONG with me?)

The day was mostly meltdown and tantrum free.  I say mostly because there is NEVER a day that goes by with a one-year-old and two-year-old that is tantrum-free.  There were lots of age-appropriate activities and carny food and overpriced Thomas collectibles.  But the arm and a leg that we spent on the tickets, souvenirs, and food was worth every penny.

Even Ella had fun.  “Look Mommy!  I’m going to put all these little pieces of germ covered Thomas paraphernalia in my mouth and work on building my immunity.”

The only thorn in my side about our Day Out With Thomas experience was that I was not in charge of taking pictures and therefore I don’t have a decent picture of Carson with Thomas.   In case you were wondering, the “photographer” in charge was the only other adult in my immediate family. *HUFF*

Why didn’t the ”photographer” get THOMAS in the freaking picture WITH Carson??? Isn’t that the POINT of having your picture made WITH Thomas??? Who would take such a DUMB picture! *HUFF!!!*

Next year, when we go back, I’ll try not to tear up AND I’ll be the photographer (hopefully with my new camera.)  (Camera details coming tomorrow…I hope.)

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Fantasies of this
day have invaded my thoughts
since I learned of it

Priviledge of riding
Thomas, only cost my soul
Carson MUST love it

***

I have such high hopes, hopes that I pray won’t be dashed about our big day of riding a REAL, LIVE Thomas tomorrow when we go to A Day Out With Thomas.  My imagination has conjured up images of Carson’s jubilant response when he gets to see and ride on Thomas.  For years to come, he’ll thank me for enriching his life by taking him to ride on Thomas.  At his wedding, he’ll mention that this ONE day, Day Out With Thomas, helped make him the man that he is and it’s all because his mommy loved him enough to take him. 

Maybe my hopes for the day are a little bit overblown.  A little.  I guess I am sort of worried since everyone I know or have read about has reported less than stellar responses from their Thomas loving tot, whether it be a freak-out session or bored apathy.

But surely that won’t happen to Carson!  He LOVES Thomas, and really any train, truck, tractor, or automobile.  He couldn’t possibly freak out!

Except that he IS a volatile two-and-a-half-year-old who may or may not occasionally exhibit multiple personality disorder unexpectedly.

Hold me.

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Tags: Little Monkeys, Mommydom, Pictures, Quirky Me, haiku friday by Jennifer
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After my post last week where we all fessed up to our serious Internet addictions, I’ve decided to help you in your effort to GET OFF THE COMPUTER and spend more time with your children.  

I know my children would benefit from the attention. *ahem*

Enjoying some dirt while mommy checks her email for the 20 billionth time.

First of all in order for you to actually DO any of the things on the list you’ll need to prepare.  You’ll want to get one last fix so start by looking at your email ONE more time, checking your stats ONE more time, reading those last few twitters and then *gasp* SHUTTING DOWN the computer.  Simply putting it in sleep mode or shutting the laptop isn’t going to cut it…you already KNOW that you will peek and get sucked right.back.in.  Now.  Once it’s turned off, put the power cord in a really hard to reach place, like in that ridiculous cabinet over your refrigerator or have a trusted neighbor babysit it. 

The power cord suggestion may seem a little much, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“So what am I supposed to DO without Internet access?”  you moan.  Here are a few ideas!

1.  Bake!  Cookies, brownies, whatever.  No, this doesn’t help with losing any extra pounds, but is sitting on your ass twittering really helping?  I didn’t think so.

2.  Water Balloons!  Sure the throwing of water balloons between siblings will cause World War III, but think of it this way…all that arguing is killing time.   Be sure to do this OUTSIDE.  That’s the place on the other side of the door where the sun shines and it’s hot.

3.  McDonalds Playplace/ Chick Fil-A Play area!  The great thing about this suggestion is that it’s really a two-for-one outing because within a week after letting your kids play at a place like this, you’ll be leaving the house again to take them to the pediatrician when they come down with some terrible malady.

4.  Library!  This place is so awesome!  They let you borrow books for –get this–FREE.  That’s right!  FREE!  (Also they have time-limited Internet access there.)  (Yes, I’m an enabler in your attempt to break your addicion.)

5.  Crafts!  You’ll be cleaning up glitter and wiping crayon marks off the walls and cutting glue out of your carpets for MONTHS to come.  Think of all the time you WON’T be stumbling and commenting!

6.  Clean the house as a family!  See above.  (Vacuuming also drowns out crying.)

7.  Use your navigation system to go on adventures!  This suggestion will sadly use entirely too much gas because you are certain to get lost, but think of the adventure!  For extra educational value, have your navigation system speak in a foreign language, I especially enjoy British English.  VERY foreign.

8.  Play Hide and Seek!  You hide in the bathroom (door locked) with some ice cream, OKAY, WINE and have the kids try and find you.  (iPods can drown out the crying in this scenario.)

9.  Take lots of pictures and video!  Let your kids ham it up!  What a great way for YOU to come up with even more fodder for the ol’ blog.  (Me=Enabler)

10.  Go take a walk to get your power cord back from your neighbor!   You’ve earned it with all this “family enrichment” crap.    You can even make it a FAMILY activity to go retrieve your power cord.  Win-win situation!

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Carson woke up around 11:30 last night coughing uncontrollably and crying.  Luckily he was crying for his Daddy  (I knew there were pros to his Daddy favoritism!), so Tate went up to console him.  I could tell by listening over the monitor that Carson was refusing to go back to bed, as he wailed every half hour when Tate would attempt to put him in his crib.

I felt desperate for sleep and hearing Carson carrying on made me feel panicked.

“Tomorrow is going to be a HORRIBLE day!  I won’t be able to do it alone!  How will I ever manage to prepare meals and care for TWO children, one of which is DESPERATELY sick???!!!  I’ll be so exhausted, I won’t even be able to get out of bed.  Oh PLEASE just let me sleep!”

At 3 AM, I felt bad for Tate because (PANIC!) he had to WORK tomorrow and he’d hardly gotten any sleep.  I went upstairs to relieve him of his duties.  He didn’t hesitate to let me take over (DAMMIT!), and quickly left me with the coughing, barrel rolling child in our spare bed.

“I’m NEVER going to get any sleeeeeeep!  Woe is me!”  My mind raced with the thoughts of the terrible day that awaited.

Carson thrashed and kicked and coughed and tossed and turned for what seemed like HOURS.  FINALLY I fell into a oft interrupted sleep as I was repeatedly awakened by jabs to my ribs and back.  The desperate feelings and panic also kept me awake as laid there worrying.

The morning light invaded it’s way through the blinds too early this morning, but found a bright and cheerful Carson.

“Get UP, Mommy!  Carson doesn’t feel shit!” 

I assumed he meant he didn’t feel SICK.

All that panic and worry was for nothing.  Sure I’m a little tired this morning, but really?  Getting all worked up about the unbearable day that awaited?  Slight overkill.

(I think Carson just has a cold, not Ella’s “cock sucky” or “hoof and mouth disease.”)

Oh and one more thing…I’m, uh, expecting a Canon 450D (Rebel XSi) in the mail any day now.  REALLY.  Moral to the story:  Begging works!  Details later.

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I fully admit to being sassy, self-centered, bossy, opinionated, and quirky.

Go ahead and add superstitious to the list of adjectives and you have a fairly complete picture of me on any given day.

I’m one of those people who whenever I hear of another’s tragedy, I think to myself, “That could be me.”   I feel like if I can imagine myself in the tragedy, then it WON’T happen to me.   It seems like whenever you hear about something awful happening, the victim says “I never thought something like this would happen to me,”  so by thinking it COULD happen to me is like some sort of bubble barrier against the big, bad, scary world. 

I knock on wood.  A LOT.

On our wedding day, I refused to let Tate see me before the wedding.  I know lots of couples have pictures taken before the wedding for convenience or because they have to vacate the church/synagogue/hall right after the wedding.  I would have MOVED the location of my wedding if I would have had to see Tate before the wedding.

We got married at 4:30 in the afternoon on the UPswing of the clock.  I didn’t want to start our life together on the DOWNswing of the clock’s hands.

It occurs to me when I’m walking on a sidewalk that I should avoid the cracks.  I mean, I don’t want a broken back since I’m a MOTHER now you know.

I would never purposely open an umbrella in a house, nor would I ever walk under a ladder.  That’s just ASKING for trouble.

If I see a penny?  I pick it up!!  And all day long?  I have good luck!

There are superstitions that to me are just plain silly (unlike those above because THOSE!, those are NECESSARY.)  I don’t eat black-eyed peas for luck on New Year’s Eve because, EWWWW!  I don’t believe that not sending chain letters or those RIDICULOUS chain emails will bring me bad luck.  Friday the 13th doesn’t scare me, neither do black cats.

What are you superstitious about?

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We spent this past weekend attending a family reunion in Missouri.  There were lots of lowlights from the trip including (but not limited to), Ella’s diarrhea, Ella’s vomiting, cockroaches in the bathroom of our cabin, and a verrrrrry cranky and sleep deprived Carson.

Despite the lowlights, though, there were also many highlights.  One of these highlights was the acquisition of some homemade apple butter.

I LOVE apple butter!  LOVE!

Imagine my disappointment when we got home and discovered that the lid of the jar of my beloved apple butter had “popped.”  (You know those home canning jars with the ring and the lid…well, it wasn’t sucked down, it was popped.)

Trying to head off certain botulism poisoning, I sadly decided the apple butter would have to be tossed in the trash.

Tate WHOLEHEARTEDLY disagreed.  “NO, no, no, no, no.  We are NOT throwing it away.  Let’s smell it,”  he said, trying to convince me that this not-properly-sealed apple butter was fine for human consumption.

I have NO IDEA if botulism or any other death-inducing food disease even has an odor, so smelling it wasn’t going to change my mind.  I stood firmly behind my decision to throw out the apple butter.

Tate STILL disagreed.  “See?  It tastes fine!”  he said after dipping his finger in the diseased apple butter.  “I bet it was made just a few days ago, we’re keeping it!”

“Fine, Tate.  Keep it.  I don’t care if it was made this morning, I won’t eat it!  And!  I don’t want the kids to eat it either, because it will make them SICK.”

Very often, Tate and I disagree about food safety issues.  He has no problem (barely) reheating food that has been in the fridge for DAYS.  I won’t touch leftovers after about two or three days.  If food has been sitting out for too long, I won’t eat it, but Tate would probably eat potato salad that had been sunbathing for three hours.  He regularly gets annoyed by my “overzealous” and “ridiculous” attempts to keep my family free of food-borne diseases.

What do you think?   Should we keep the apple butter or throw it away?

(PS, I’m merely curious as to what you think.  Unless you have a Ph.D in Food Safety, you probably aren’t going to change my mind.)

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