Are We Having Fun Yet?

Yes, yes we are having fun.

After spending more time than expected at the County Fair, we finally got on the road for Mayberry. The trip included the usual stops along the way; Starbucks for frappuccinos, McDonald’s for lunch, random roadside areas at which The Girl threw up. Yes, my poor baby suffered another bout of car-sickness, it sucked.

She was fine and dandy again by the time we rolled into my parent’s drive-way, however and was off and running with her cousin in record time.

The first thing I did upon arriving was to run over my mother’s foot with my giant suitcase, ruining her pedicure and causing, what I’m certain, was at least a little bit of pain, making me the world’s worst houseguest.

My sister, The Barbie, was already here when we arrived and we wasted no time in making ourselves comfortable, claiming the guest room for ourselves (at least until her husband arrives tonight and evicts me from the bed) and spreading our belongings all over the bathroom, just like when we were teenagers.

Our assorted offspring immediately set about playing with the assorted toys that my mom has collected for her grandchildren over the years and, in no time at all, the house was thoroughly trashed.

I’m starting to think my parents deserve sainthood just for allowing us to visit their home.

Yesterday, Barbie and I ventured to the neighboring town for a bit of shopping and for lunch. By the time we returned, it was almost time to drive out to my older sister’s house for an early dinner. Older Sister was entertaining a houseful of guests of her own; three or four families with whom they rodeo. The grand total of people came to, I believe, 22 and my sister most certainly deserves sainthood when you factor in the following:

-Her visitors have been there since Sunday.
-And aren’t planning to leave until tomorrow.
-And, my brother-in-law (God bless him) was the one who invited them all to come and stay.
-Several months ago.
-Which he forgot to mention it to my sister who was completely unprepared for the caravan of trucks and horse trailers that pulled into her drive last Sunday.

My brother-in-law (God bless him) is still alive and kicking although, I’m guessing, it required great restraint on my sister’s part not to kill him in his sleep. That, or she was just too damn tired to kill him; entertaining an army of people for days on end will drain you of your will to kill.

Or so I’ve heard.

For the record, were I in a similar situation, I would kill Hugh in his sleep no matter how tired I was.

Following dinner at Casa de My Brother-I-Law is the Luckiest Sumbitch on the Planet, I met up with my college roommates and we spent a couple of hours catching up. I got my baby fix for the year, cuddling and cooing at the most adorable baby on Planet Earth. I briefly debated smuggling him out of the house so that I could keep him but, Phoebe is nursing and I am unequipped to deal with that particular scenario so; I let her keep him.

Yes, I contemplated stealing my girlfriend's baby.

I am the world’s worst houseguest. But, at least she knew I was coming.

It's Finally That Tuesday

We just finished loading the car for our trip to Mayberry. The Girl’s suitcase, which has been packed since roughly three decades ago, was the first item in the car which should come as a surprise to no one.

At the other end of the spectrum was the Man-Cub who attempted to get by with a baseball glove, his Nintendo DS, a skateboard, a change of (I think) clean underwear and a bag of sunflower seeds. Nine years of experience as his mother has taught me to expect just such an attempt so, I took the liberty of packing a suitcase for him; I hope he doesn’t mind wearing girl’s panties and a feather boa for a week.

I’m kidding. Although, that would teach him to properly pack his own damn bag.

Speaking of which, my suitcase is chock-full. I packed more clothing than a single woman has any business owning let alone packing for a week-long vacation. But! I’ll be prepared for any situation. In addition to my suitcase, I threw in a bag of shoes (any situation!), a bag of toiletries and cosmetics and my camera bag. Hugh looked a bit concerned upon viewing the massive pile of luggage; he may have imagined that I was scheming to leaving him. Of course, we all know that would never happen, after all; who else would put up with my insane Diet Pepsi addiction or with my obsessive need to own every new shade of OPI nail polish?

Just in case I was plotting my escape, however, he held out the promise of a grassy backyard upon my return. He held that promise out like a juicy carrot right in front of my nose and, because I love him, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt (six years without grass, people! I’ve heard it all before!); I trust that I will, indeed discover grass upon my return.

(Of course, merely typing that sentence practically begs fate to royally fuck me. Hey, Fate, you know I was just joking, right? I know there will still be a barren wasteland of a backyard behind my house when I come back next week, please-oh-please-oh-please don’t screw with me, m’kay? Thank you, in advance, for your cooperation).

Anyhoo…, we are off to the County Fair so that I can judge the photo contest. Then, following a quick trip to the Starbucks drive-thru for strawberry crème frappuccinos, we will queue up the iPod and hit the road, excessive luggage, bad yard karma and all.

Mayberry, here we come.

Yes, I Have Heard of Child Labor Laws. Why Do You Ask?

Hugh broke out the trencher Saturday morning and started the first step in a long and arduous process; installing our sprinkler system. Once he had the rows trenched for the pipe, he recruited the children to manually shovel out the dirt that fell back into the trenches. It was a physically demanding chore, for certain.

Which is why I wisely scheduled a full day of errand-running for myself, including a trip to Neighboring City to purchase yet more clothing for our Barbados trip; I’m no dummy.

I was just getting into my car and almost home free when The Girl accosted me in the driveway.

The Girl: Where are you going?

Chelle: I, um, I’m going to run some very important errands.

The Girl: Why don’t you have to stay and help with the yard like the Man-Cub and I do?

Chelle: Well, Girl, I don’t have to stay and help with the yard because I have Very Important Errands to run.

The Girl (rolling her yes): Whatever.

Chelle: Well, I better get going.

The Girl (tears welling up in her big brown eyes): It’s not faaaair. We have to do all the dirty work. And, it’s hot (which, in her defense, holy hell, yes, it was hot).

Chelle: Well, honey, drink lots of water and wear a big hat, gotta go!

The Girl (stamping her foot and sighing in disgust): Fine! You better hope we don’t get heat stroke or something!

Chelle: Ok, I’ll do that.

The Girl (muttering something intelligible and, most likely, very nasty, under her breath followed by): I’m going to remember this!

Chelle: Of course you will, dear; you’ll have blisters, a sunburn and a splitting headache to remind you. Buh-bye.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel at all guilty as I drove away from the house.

I would also be lying if I said it took me longer than a nanosecond to get over it.

Chelle: Quality parenting since 1996.

We'll Always Have Porch Night

While I realize that nothing is going to make the rest of this week go by any faster, Porch Night certainly makes the wait more bearable.

The most recent installment took place following Hugh’s softball game last night. Jana, the kids and I accompanied the men to the game and, while they lost by one run, it was an entertaining show. Hugh managed to stay injury-free while Chris pulled a hamstring and had to resort to limping around the bases, dragging one leg behind him like Igor. Another teammate took a ball right in the face and yet another tripped over his own feet while crossing first base, tumbling in a most awesome fashion.

For the record, both Chris and Hugh have arrived at the conclusion that they are getting “too old for this shit” and will hang up their cleats at the end of the season. Jana and I discussed it at length and arrived at the conclusion that, while they intend to retire, they will, in all actuality, come back with a vengeance next season following a winter of recuperation not because they are just that fabulous, athletically speaking but, because their pea-sized brains will have completely forgotten that they are, indeed “too old for this shit”.

We fully intend to reinstitute Porch Night when that happens. In the meanwhile, we have possibly another month or two in which to indulge in this pastime and we plan to take full advantage of every minute we have left. The kids start back to school on August 20th, which is, in my opinion, waaayyy too early; I remember when school didn’t start until after Labor Day and ended right before Memorial Day. Of course, back then (when dinosaurs roamed the Earth), we didn’t get out of school for Martin Luther King Day or for President’s Day. Nor did we have Teacher’s In-service days or early release every Wednesday (don’t get me started on the early release bullshit let’s just say, it’s no wonder I am forking over my hard-earned cash for the Man-Cub to attend tutoring sessions this summer; he’s never in school to learn anything).

In addition to our schedules changing dramatically once school begins, the weather can only hold out for so long and, even if we have a nice autumn, Porch Night is probably best savored in the summer. With that in mind, Jana and I have decreed that every Thursday night from now until whenever, we will have Porch Night. We’ll miss next Thursday, of course, since I will be living large in Mayberry but, otherwise, every Thursday night. Then, during the long winter months, we will think back fondly on the evenings we spent boozing it up on the porch, eating way too much French bread and cheese while our children ran like hooligans throughout the neighborhood.

Good times.

Is It Friday Yet?

Better still, could it just be next Tuesday, already? I mean, Friday is great and all but, next Tuesday I will be on my way to Mayberry for a week of fun, relaxation and lazy-parenting without guilt. Friday sort of pales in comparison.

I’m also looking forward to being in Mayberry because I get to reconnect with two of my college roommates whom I don’t see often enough and we fully intend to knock the dust off our party shoes (Hear that, Phoebe? We're coming for you!). Plus, I never fail to get good pictures when I’m home for Stampede weekend and I could use them; my portfolio for the annual Fall Photo Show and Contest is looking quite slim this year.

Speaking of photo shows and next Tuesday (subjects that actually connect, people! What’s next? Cats and dogs doing the wild thing?); I have been asked to judge the photo show at the County Fair this year. I consider it an honor and, since the judging is scheduled for early Tuesday morning, I could see no reason to decline the invitation. Plus, I’ll get paid for my services; about $100 if memory serves. The last time I judged the show was three or four years ago and I remember it taking all of about thirty minutes of my time so, we’ll still be on the road for Mayberry by 9:30, arriving there around noon. Just in time for my mother to start spoiling us all and for the lazy-parenting to begin in earnest.

And, without guilt.

Speaking of my kids (ok, that segue was a bit bumpy, we were, in actuality discussing my intention to abandon all semblance of quality parenting, not the children whom I actually parent, but! The subjects are related which makes it a better segue than some I have pulled out of the crapper so; work with me, here), both The Girl and the Man-Cub are excited to get to Mayberry, as well. How excited are they? Well, as I mentioned a while back, The Girl has already packed her suitcase and, if the Man-Cub asks “how many more days until we go?” one more time; I might have to snap him in half which would really disappoint my father since it would effectively remove golf from the list of possible grandparent/grandson activities.

Also, I think having his cousin appear on the doorstep in two pieces would completely scar my nephew and I can’t have that so; rather than snapping the child in half, I may simply resort to duct-taping his mouth for the next four days or so.

And, getting back to the subject at hand, I would say they are super-excited to go.

Speaking of which, is it Tuesday yet?

The List

Because Jana insisted that I make one, here, in no particular order, are my top 10 Hot Men.

You’re welcome.

1. Paul Walker, yummy.

2. Chris Evans, who is handsome whether he is rocking blond hair or darker hair but, I prefer him blond.

3. Jensen Ackles, and yes, Jana; this one probably is young enough to be my son.

4. Josh Holloway, I would get Lost with him, any day.

5. Jamie Bamber, and if you don’t know who he is then you are not watching the Best Show on Television, otherwise known as Battlestar Galactica. And I feel sorry for you.

6. Orlando Bloom, only the sexiest pirate ever to don tights. Oh, wait, the tights were on while he played an elf, either way, mrrowwrr!

7. Hugh Jackman, beautiful and he has a sexy accent, can’t beat that.

8. Ryan Reynolds, chocolate brown eyes and biceps to die for.

9. Anderson Cooper, so what if he may, or may not, be gay, he’s still pretty to look at and smart to boot.

10. Tom Welling, Superman, indeed.

I Need a Weekend to Recover From My Weekend

I am exhausted. The entire weekend was jam-packed with places to go, people to see and things to do. Friday night, after I picked the Cub up from Scout Camp, we journeyed to a neighboring town for the first game of the All-Star tournament where we got our butts handed to us on a platter. The final score was 14-4 and I was feeling relatively confident that we would not make a come-back at the game the following day.

However, the score in Saturday’s game was much closer, so close in fact that it actually looked like we might win, thus taking second place in the league and securing a trip to the State tournament which takes place next weekend. When the Cub brought in a run, tying the game, I mentally screamed noooo!!!! Please don’t let us actually win this thing! (I only thought it, it’s not like I said it out loud, Dad).

Luckily, however, our rally was short-lived and we lost the game by four runs. And, while that might make me sound like a really poor excuse for a Sports Mom….well, yeah, I am a poor excuse for a Sports Mom but! After seeing some of those moms in action; I’m pretty damn happy with my own brand of parenting, thankyouverymuch.

Besides, the boys have been playing baseball since March; let them have a little bit of a summer break.

After the game, we headed home and relaxed for approximately an hour and a half before loading up the car and running to the drive-in to see Hancock and You Don’t Mess With the Zohan. For the record, Hancock was ok. The Zohan movie was a waste of time and good movie candy.

Yesterday, I was fully prepared to spend the day doing chores around the house but, Jana called and asked if we wanted to join her and Chris on their boat and, it was really hot and the kids were really excited about the idea so, we went.

The lake was not nearly as busy as we had expected it to be, given how hot it was, and we were able to pull the kids on the large tube as well as knee-boarding and wake boarding for a few hours before it was time to head back home where we grilled chicken legs and pork chops and watched The Spiderwick Chronicles with the children before seeing Chris and Jana off at the door.

Then I fell into a drooling coma and Hugh almost had to carry my sorry ass up the stairs.

Today, I am one sore SOB, courtesy of this:

I can’t complain, though because it was a lot of fun and, now Jana and I can boast that, no matter how hard her husband tried to knock us off the tube; he failed.

Ok, except for that one time when he sent us both skipping across the lake like stones. Thankfully, we weren’t hurt, our pride being the only casualty. Well, that and my bikini bottoms which got sucked down to my knees during the crash. Otherwise, no harm, no foul and, turns out I am remarkably fast at pulling my undies up underwater.

Who knew?