Home Again

I’m home from vacation. Back to the grind. (Sniff.) In a mad rush of adrenaline yesterday, after pulling into our driveway after a 2-day trek from Hilton Head, Super Hubs and I unloaded, unpacked, did 3 loads of laundry, straightened the house, planned meals for the week, and grocery shopped. Whew!! So I treated myself to a spa pedicure this morning. But before you call me a Princess, let me tell you that this pedicure comes on the heels of a horrific weekend back from vacation, reminding us of our horrific weekend to vacation.

Saturday: Unfortunately, I was awakened at 2am by Rock Star who said he was sick to his stomach. I settled his cold, clammy, pale self onto the villa’s living room couch, with a damp rag and nearby wastebasket. He was awake for the next few hours, frequently running into the bathroom. And, being the kind and nurturing mother that I am, I was up with him.
Fortunately, by the time we left in the morning for our journey back to Chicago, Rock Star was feeling better. We had a full 10 hours drive until we got to our hotel in Lexington that evening. Because the women in the family had a yen for chicken ‘n dumplings, we headed to a Cracker Barrel for a late dinner. Unfortunately, midway through the meal, a strangely quiet Little Squirt with no apparent appetite suddenly jumped up and said, “I fink I’m going to frow up.” Super Hubs raced him off to the men’s room, where my poor baby barfed his guts out. Many times. I then took him into the minivan and changed his clothes while the family finished dinner. He continued to be sick to his stomach several more times in the van and then back in the hotel. I must comment on Little Squirt’s incredible tidiness while vomiting in the van. It was not nearly the carnage it could have been. We resourcefully used:
A.) An empty McDonald’s sweet tea cup.
B.) An empty McDonald’s diet coke cup.
C.) A garbage bag when the above two were filled.

Sunday: Unfortunately, Little Squirt was up at 5am vomiting some more. The kind hotel clerk allowed us to “borrow” the room’s garbage can for our car trip, which became his Nearest and Dearest Friend of the Moment, as he continued vomiting all through the state of Kentucky. This was his Action Plan for four hours:
Gaze out window at boring scenery- vomit- gaze out window at boring scenery -vomit.
He developed pettechiae on his face from retching so hard. But by noon he felt better, asked for some sprite, then gobbled down a personal pan pizza at our lunch stop. He’s been fine ever since. Weird.
Fortunately, we arrived home fairly early in the day.
Unfortunately, we entered the house to find that our black cat had pulled out much of his fur and trailed it all over our home during the past 16 days of our absence. Stress, maybe?? Was he was painting on his external world the cry of his internal world, “I miss the warmth of my family”?? Like “cutting” for cats! Or maybe he was just trying out a new ‘do? I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll figure it out when I become a Pet Psychic.
Unfortunately, when I got out the vacuum to clean up the cat fur, I found that the vacuum was broken. Done. Dead. Finished with this world. It had come to the end of its shelf life, in horrendous timing. So I assigned Butterfly the task of picking up all the fur by hand. Imagine, if you will, the joyful way she embraced that task after a full day of sitting next to a vomiting brother.
Unfortunately, we discovered that Little Squirt’s second story bedroom window had been smashed by a rock. Vandalism. Weird again. So we had to file a police report with the same officer that came a’calling back in March. He’s getting to know us a little too well.

So that was our past 48 hours. I’m kinda feeling the need for another vacation already….

Last Day

Well, it's been fabulous. We've played, relaxed, wined and dined. I have no complaints, other than the raccoon tan I am sporting due to big sunglasses. I am sad to leave here tomorrow, as I always am. Hilton Head is a second home to me. I've been coming here to vacation almost every summer since I was nine and my grandparents bought a place on the island. Maybe someday my family will move down here permanently (if we can figure out a way to make a living...pet psychic??)or buy a vacation home (if I write a best-seller or something). But for now, I am content to bring my family here most summers.

Tomorrow we begin our 2-day trek back home. With the air conditioning in the van fixed. Wohoo!! Thanks for allowing me to share our trip!

Is it Thursday Again? In Hilton Head

Another perfect day in Paradise....
........if you don't count the revolting dead jelly fish I almost stepped on.....

Tomorrow is our last day here. (Big sigh.)

Is it Wed. Again? In Hilton Head

Same....same....same.... More of the same glorious vacationing. If I could repeat a day over and over again, today would be the day....

Awake before the golfers, I take my morning coffee out onto the porch, watch the wildlife cavorting around the lagoon, and pray. Four baby squirrels play tag around a tree. Two woodpeckers drill holes. A blue jay lands near my feet. I feel like Snow White.
I head to the beach with Super Hubs and Little Squirt, enjoying 5 hours of R&R in the sunshine. I finish a yummy book and begin another. Rock Star joins us for lunch and eats a billion dollar cheeseburger. Beach food is phenomenally pricey, but, hey, it's by the beach.
We head home. My husband and kids go for a dip in the pool while I shower and play with my Facebook.
After feeding The Turtle Family (and one curious alligator) their dinner, we head out for Japanese food. We crowd around the table, enjoying Little Squirt's big eyes as the chef juggles knives.
Later, I put Little Squirt to bed and chill in the condo, enjoying the peace. The rest of the fam takes a bike ride to the horse stables, and then strolls to Harbour Town to drink virgin pina coladas while watching the sunset.

I could get used to living like this forever.

Is it Tuesday Again? In HIlton Head

There is something magical about the ocean. I sit in my little chair in the sunshine (and refuse to feel guilty, no matter how many melanoma pamphlets you show me), stare out to sea, and breathe deeply of the salt air. I watch babies toddle in the sand, hear children screech in the waves. It is soul-healing, I swear. I can literally feel the stress just ooze out of my bones. I feel closer to God, somehow. I receive new strength, greater clarity, broader vision. The waves crash onto the shore. The waves roll back into the sea. Crash. Roll. Crash. Roll. I hand my concerns up to God and observe the supernatural phenomenon that occurs. Discernment comes crashing in, and worries roll away. Crash. Roll. "How deep, how long, how wide is my love for you, Kelly?" I bury my toes in the wet sand and feel my spirit flooded with peace.

Is it Monday Again? In Hilton Head

Is it Sunday Again? In Hilton Head

I made a Dessert Pact with myself several years ago. I vowed that I would order creme brulee whenever it appeared on a restaurant's menu, for the rest of my life. I signed this treaty with Super Hubs as my witness, and have no intentions of betraying this possibly legally binding agreement with myself. And why should I? And creme brulee is quite honestly the yummiest dessert I have ever encountered; the creamy, custardy luscious goodness served in a too-cute ramekin- OMG I love it! So imagine my thrill I mean chagrin this evening when the adorable waiter from Slovakia handed me the dessert menu after I had just finished a light-meal-by-choice of shrimp cocktail and Caesar salad. I was all, "Dang! There it is; creme brulee. I was not going to have dessert, what with the vacation pounds I've put on. But now I must order creme brulee, as my pact clearly states. Jeez my life sucks!"

I have no such pact about key lime pie or tiramisu or chocolate mousse. Or cherry cobbler or Red Velvet cake. It's only creme brulee that I'm wild about, ever since I was given a taste at a dinner party hosted by a friend. It became my favorite gourmet dessert, and I vowed that I would never learn to make it. That would entirely diminish its pizazz. Its fabulous glamour. The romance of it all.

So now, because of my pact, I've been forced to eat creme brulee in New York City, Disney World and Rome. I've tasted it in several fine establishments in Chicago, and now in Hilton Head Island. I'm having a torrid little affair with burnt cream and I feel so naughty!

But a pact is a pact, and I am nothing if not an honorable woman. So I relished creme brulee tonight, while overlooking the Harbour Town Golf Course. And Super Hubs enjoyed key lime pie. It was entirely lovely.

Saturday in Hilton Head

We took Mom back to the Savannah airport today. We are so sad to see her go! It's been a wonderful four days visiting with her. We've shared our favorite beach spots, favorite restaurants, and favorite jelly-bellies. We even did a Girls Night Out with Butterfly, and went to see "Sex and the City." She's only been gone a few hours, and Little Squirt already says he misses her.

It's so unbelievable that we've been here now one week! Leaving on the heels of tornado weather, and then the car trouble we experienced en route, it took Super Hubs and me about two days to not be spazy. And two more days to begin to unwind. And then three days to actually become unwound. Which brings us to today, right in the eye of our complete un-wound-ed-ness. And now we have another whole week to embrace the joy!

And then The Teens needed a bit of an attitude adjustment. They were all, "Blah blah blah bored" and "Blah blah blah miss my friends." And so I was all, "Blah blah blah you're spoiled rotten" and "Blah blah blah take away your cell phones" which miraculously spun them around 180 degrees, and now they are all sweetness and light. They are engaged, helpful and (wonder of all wonders) having fun.

We have enjoyed beautiful weather with just two teensy weensy late afternoon storms thrown in for variety. We've "beached" almost every day, rode bikes on the gorgeous trails, and eaten out at places so fabulous they deserve (and will get) a post of their own. Tonight we ate outside at The Beach Club overlooking the ocean. (I must find a way to move to the ocean....or move the ocean to us. Either way.)

I am trying with all my might and main to live in the moment and relish all the blessings God has for us here, which are many. Very many.

Friday in Hilton Head

Sitting on beach chairs all around us are people with intriguing stories....
-The buff couple next to us? They are from Gary, Indiana. She was once a hefty 360lbs, but after a bad case of Yellow Fever (contracted on a Find-My-Inner-Goddess Trip to Brazil) she lost massive amounts of weight and loved her new physique. Vowing to help others' attain their ideal poundage through healthy exercise, she became a Personal Trainer, where she met him, another Personal Trainer, when they flirted from across the elliptical machines, and began an affair in the whirlpool. Both were in miserable marriages; subsequently they divorced and are now married to each other, happily, for the most part, except for the faux Vietnam flashbacks she has on occasion due to brain damage caused by the Yellow Fever...

-The distinguished-looking gentleman up ahead? He's a well-loved former Obstetrician, forced to retire when his liability insurance soared after the unfortunate botched delivery of conjoined quadruplets. The skinny dude next to him? That is his son-in-law who recently took over the practice. All seems well, except for a bit of tension due to the fact that Doc #2 has yet to achieve the popularity and notoriety of his father-in-law. I believe it has something to do with that fact that he's on the list of Registered Sex Offenders.....

-The prim-looking woman wearing the skirted brown-and-white polka dot bathing suit and perpetual frown? She's a librarian-turned-stripper from Vegas who works down at the Spearmint Rhino. Her stage name is "Dusty Primrose" and she's apparently quite popular with the locals.....

-The nervous-looking fellow, hiding behind the Tom Clancy novel? If I told you his real name, I'd have to kill you, because he's part of the Witness Protection Program. He's racked with anxiety, poor guy, and sucking down xanax like they're jelly bellies.....

I actually do not know any of these things for sure. I just speculate on the stories of the people around me; partly to tempt Super Hubs away from his Bernard Cornwell book so he'll pay me attention, but mostly for my own personal amusement. Hmmmmmm. I wonder what kinds of things people speculate about me.....

Thursday in Hilton Head

I think it's the pelicans that amuse me the most. They dive bomb from 50 feet in the sky straight into the ocean, catching fish with their beaks or whatever they are doing. Mining for diamonds? Channeling kamikaze pilots?? IDK but they are just the shizz. I giggle every time I watch them. They rank up there with the playful dolphins who frolic just off shore. And I adore the sweet but aggressive turtle family that gorge on crumbs of bread Little Squirt throws into their pond. Who knew reptiles loved to carbo-load?

I could do without the sting rays who have made several appearances, swimming around our legs as they migrate up the coast. And the jelly fish. Don't care for them at all. Or the 'gators. We have three that live in the lagoon outside our back porch. I never quite trust that they will stay in the water, which motivates me to keep our sliding glass door shut at all times...just in case.

Hilton Head wildlife is endlessly fascinating to me.

Wednesday in Hilton Head

Let me talk about hair. Specifically mine. No matter how many frizz-proof, anti-humidity, sleek-making, straight-enhancing hair products I use, it looks nothing less than dreadfully dready dreadful in this climate. Picture a blond Rosanne Rosanna Danna. And then add 10X worse. That is my hair at present. So I either tie it into a pony tail or admit defeat and pretend I enjoy sporting a retro bad eighties perm. Which is why I won't appear in many of the vacation pictures. I'm afraid I will be mocked.

Tuesday in Hilton Head

I nearly went from this tropical paradise to The Ultimate Paradise this morning when an overzealous tourist nearly backed over me near our villa. Super Hubs shrieked, "Look out!" and yanked me out of the way. The driver slammed on his brakes an inch away from sending me into oblivion.
Yikes! Very close call. Dang is my guardian angel good!

We picked up Super Hubs' mother from the Savannah airport (in our rental with air-Hallelujah!). It is great to welcome Mom to our favorite vacation spot and show her the sights. She'll be staying with us for the rest of the week. We took her to the South Beach Marina in the afternoon, and then had drinks at the Beach Club at sunset. Watching the waves peacefully foam along the shore under the full moon was simply.... paradise. I have no other words.

Monday in Hilton Head

Do The Teens look like they are having fun?? It's hard to tell, what with their ears stapled to their iPods and their fingers glued to their cell phones and all. And no eye contact. It seems to be an epidemic on this island; every teen I see is texting and zoning. While we waited for a table outside a Caribbean restaurant this evening, they virtually ignored me when Super Hubs went inside to the bar to get us drinks. But Little Squirt, who embraces all of life with the joy of the uninhibited, tried some public Hip Hop moves on the dance floor to Bob Marley.

But the real fun began after we were seated inside the restaurant. And it was fun at my expense. At my humiliation.... Here's what happened: As I was explaining to the 20-Something Surfer Dude Waiter that I wanted the steamed clams and side salad as my entree, Little Squirt interrupted my order by saying: "Mom, do you want to marry him (the waiter)??" I paused in confusion, and then, attempting to repeat my order, was again interrupted by Little Squirt's more persistent: "Mom, I said, do you want to marry him?!!"

The waiter, clearly uncomfortable, scuttled away as The Teens burst into laughter. I was mortified, as was Super Hubs. "Little Squirt, I am already married to your father! Why would you say that??" I asked, puzzled. Possibly on the heels of watching too much Reality TV with his older siblings, Little Squirt whispered, "I think he wants to date you!"

OMG. I was thoroughly embarrassed by my 6-year-old! The waiter would not look at me the rest of the evening, and even sent over another waiter a few times to serve us. He was clearly avoiding me. The Teens giggled throughout the meal and made "Mrs. Robinson" jokes.

For the record: I AM SO NOT INTERESTED!! Happily married for 19 years, thank you very much. SO not the "Mrs. Robinson" type. Ewwwwww. And I gave Little Squirt a stern talking-to in the car about the inappropriateness of his comment. To which he replied, "I know. I was just kidding."

Sunday in Hilton Head

Oh, how I absolutely looove beaching! (And bitching, especially about how our minivan a/c continues to be broken...but I digress.) Super Hubs and I have a Beach Prep Ritual that we've stuck to for many years. It mostly involves me in front of a full-length mirror in my beach wear. I try on a bathing suit, preen this way and that, and try to determine which angles and poses are the most flattering and make me appear (the key word being appear) the most toned. Then I cover every inch of exposed skin with Coppertone #30 and put on a coordinating and trendy cover-up. My hair is swept into a "beach up-do" for that no-fuss look that actually requires about 10 minutes of fuss. (Shhh. It'll be our little secret.) I allow a few tendrils to escape, just for effect. Then a touch of light makeup, with a hint of pink lip gloss. Finally, just as I am reassuring myself that I won't be the most unattractive person at the Beach Club, Super Hubs yells, "What in Sam Hill is taking you so long?? Let's go!" (The Beach Nazi!) We pile into the hot minivan and drive off. And that's the ritual we've assumed for years. It wouldn't be a vacation without it.

Little Squirt, Lover of All Creation, is in his glory. He's seen two "croc-a-gators" in the lagoon in front of our villa, a couple of dead jelly fish, and a baby shark caught and subsequently freed by a fisherman. And, while I was safely reading my Marian Keyes novel from my beach chair, he and Super Hubs were surrounded by a school of a dozen errant yet hospitable sting rays. Oi!! Little Squirt now wants a baby shark for a pet.

The Teens actually woke up at 7am and ran a couple miles together, as Rock Star is in training for Freshman football. Then they went back to sleep until 10am, took a dip in the pool, and showed up on the beach in time to sponge money off us for lunch. They will most likely not show up in many of my blog pix because:
A.) They hate it when I take their pictures.
B.) They really hate it when I take their pictures and post them on my blog.
C.) We don't see them much on vacation. They have their own agenda, which involves lots of eating and sleeping.

As it is Father's Day, I gave Super Hubs first choice of dinner options:
A.) I cook dinner and we eat with the kids in the villa.
B.) We eat dinner out as a family.
C.) I cook dinner for the kids, and we go out alone to dine somewhere fantabulous.
He chose #C. (As I was praying he would! Thank you, Lord!!)

So it's been a wonderful first day in Paradise, even with my sunburned left shoulder. And we found a dude that will supposedly fix our van a/c this week. There are no hurricanes approaching (that we've heard of). And no calamitous natural disasters on the horizon (at least for now). No signs of the Tribulation beginning (yet). Things are definitely looking up :-)

Vaca-y Not So Much

Live blogging from Hilton Head. Thankfully we have Internet access (for as long as it lasts) which is a bright moment in an otherwise horrific 48 hours. Oh, where shall I begin....??

To say the past two days have been Hell would be an understatement. Hell is not a strong enough word. I don't know what is.

Friday: We were awakened at 1am on Friday morning to the sound of the tornado sirens. The Teens came running out of their bedrooms, and I grabbed the sleeping Little Squirt in my arms (Happy Birthday, Baby!). The five of us huddled under the basement stairs, hearing the rain and wind blasting outside our home. "Will our house spin in the air like Dorothy's??" Little Squirt wanted to know. "Oh, dear God, I hope not," Super Hubs said, visions of his recent paint job botched into oblivion. The sirens silenced after 30 minutes or so, and we headed back to bed. Yet I was awake the rest of the night, adrenaline racing through my veins, my ears fine-tuned to every night sound. My Mama Bear Protective Instincts were powered up. I was ready to battle a twister with all my might if necessary to save my babies.

We arose a few hours later, packed up the car and headed to our long drive south. It was Monotony in its most Monotonous Form, broken up by a few pit stops and by allowing The Now 6-Year-Old Little Squirt to open a birthday present at the '06 of every hour. Then ferocious storms began in Kentucky; giving me the willies since last night's tornado scare, and worrying that we might end up vacationing in Oz. Right outside of Lexington, our car came to a screeching halt in gridlocked traffic. It took 2 hours to drive 5 miles!! That is the God Honest truth. Just ask God if you think I'm lying. We lost 2 hours of driving time by the idiotic non-planning of the Department of Transportation bozos who decided to institute a lane merger for some unreasonable reason. (If you are an employee of the Department of Transportation, I hope I did not offend you. But please, talk to your people! This was dumb!!) We finally arrived at our hotel in Knoxville at 10:30pm, and fell into comas.

Saturday: The day began wonderfully enough; A refreshed family, a delicious breakfast, beautifully scenic mountains. We left our hotel, and headed souther. But our day took a turn for the worse at about 10am, when the air conditioning in our van gave a big last hiss and then apparently died without so much as a "fare-thee-well." At first I was in denial: "The air still feels...coolish....kind of. It's just a little hot." But then I had to accept the inevitable: We had 600 miles and two more southern states to drive through without a/c. And if you can imagine our chagrin, just try to picture how well The Teens took the news.....

The good news is that we each lost 30 pounds of water weight. And we arrived in Hilton Head by 4pm without killing each other. And now we are happily ensconced in our beautiful rental, refreshed from a pizza dinner and dip in the pool. So thank you for allowing me to whine. And wine. Both feel lovely at the moment.

South Or Bust

Wohoo!! It’s been an incredibly freeing week for me!
1.)I drop-kicked some relational baggage across the state with a big, “Lata Gata!” and it felt dang good.
2.)I got a pedicure while sitting a Shiatsu chair that massaged my muscles to jelly.
3.) I had my fingernails painted a bright bubblegum pink instead of my traditional French; and I am so completely secure in my middle-aged married-ness that I can wear “Hooker” nails and have no anxiety that I’ll be mistaken for one.
4.)I got my teeth cleaned by the nice hygienist (as opposed to the mean hygienist who attacks my gums with the zest of a bloody-thirsty Ax Murderer and then criticizes me for brushing too hard) and I had no cavities!

Yes, the week’s been incredible as far as weeks go. And it will get even better tomorrow because………WE ARE GOING ON VACATION!! (Doing a Victory Dance)

Tomorrow we leave at dawn for an island in the south of this country where we will relax for …..(drum roll please)…..TWO WEEKS! And it’s because I have the most wonderful husband in the world who bought me an extra week’s vacation as a “Graduating From Teaching Homeschool Forever” present.

We are driving the 18 hour trip in two days. Little Squirt will celebrate his 6th Birthday tomorrow, stuck in the backseat of the minivan, poor baby. But we have a birthday gift an hour to present to him, which will make the drive more celebratory.

The Teens are sulking. You’d think I’d just signed them up for Boot Camp from the way they have been whining about being gone for two weeks! To a tropical island. With beautiful beaches. And did I mention the pools at our villa? And tennis courts. And luscious dining. I don’t get it! What’s not to be ecstatic about?? I, too, have friends that I will miss, but, much as I love them, I will not forfeit a vacation! I will just write them a witty postcard from the beach while drinking a mai tai. And sporting a drop-dead tan.

Oh vacation! I love you!!

I will attempt to blog on location, if I we have internet access from our villa. (And if I’m not too exhausted from my daily napping on the beach. And dolphin-watching. And reading one of the 11 library books I’ve packed.) So hopefully, if the stars align in the sky as they should, I will blog again soon from The Tropics! And if I cannot, please visit me again in two weeks. I will miss you. (Sniff.)

Bon Voyaging now. Peace out!

Van Gogh-ing

As most parents will attest as being typical, our children have had a favorite parent at different stages of their development. Butterfly loved her father more than me at the beginning of her life, with her first smile given to him. I became the outstanding favorite by age 6 months, which lasted until preschool, when she again had eyes only for Super Hubs. Now she plays us back and forth like a fiddle, depending upon who has likeliest propensity to fund her wardrobe wants.

Rock Star showed no favoritism until age one, when he preferred his daddy until age two. Then he became partial to me, which lasted…forever. Butterfly still calls him a “Mama’s Boy,” which I don’t see as a bad thing. I rather like it, for as long as it lasts. I suspect that one of these days he’ll push me away into the Motherhood Abyss, where I’ll hang with the other moms of adolescent boys. But for now, I’m content being in his good graces.

Little Squirt, however, has had a favorite parent since Day One. It’s his daddy. To Little Squirt, his father is his Hero. His Knight in Shining Armor. The Sun around which he orbits. If I were to disappear, Little Squirt, standing in the glow of his father’s wonderfulness, probably wouldn’t notice for a couple of days.

Today Little Squirt designed a work of art, using markers in all colors of the rainbow. I recognized his typical idyllic scene of a house on a lawn of flowers and green grass (clearly neatly mowed and well hydrated). A yellow sun reigned over blue sky, with birds flying in abundance. It was a setting in which dreams were made; Disney-like in its appearance. I could almost hear Snow White whistling. And looking through the windows of the house were two stick figures.

He proudly showed me his masterpiece of art. In answer to my question, he said the two people in the picture were himself and his father. “And where are the mommy and the brother and the sister?” I asked. He paused for a second in thought, then responded, “They’re dead.”

Ouch. I’ve been erased off the planet by the whimsy of a 5-year-old’s wistful fantasy! Even after I just purchased that pair of blue Crocs he’d been wanting.

Showing Hospitality

I’ve been quiet on Blogosphere over the past few days because I’ve been busy fraternizing. And being a Social Butterfly takes up time. I've been flitting all about looking for the next party, and if I cannot find one, I make my own.

Summer Break does that to me. It brings out my inner extrovert. (Not that it needs much coaxing. Or is even inner, for that matter. My extrovert is pretty much always out there and sayin’, “Let’s partee!”) But (continuing the Butterfly Metaphor) the winter months make me cocoon a bit. I stay home more, read books, and sit by the fire. I cozy up. And when the weather breaks, I am ready to stretch my wings and fly to the nearest BBQ. Or invite the neighbors for cocktails on our back deck. Or flag down strangers at the intersection if I have nobody else to play with. I make The Introverted Super Hubs crazy.

Saturday night we drove up to Wisconsin have dinner with my BFFs and their husbands. Much Merry-Making was had by all. And yesterday, we had some Chicago friends visit; spending a few hours at the beach in town, and then sharing dinner. One of their girls will likely be my future daughter-in-law from the way she and Little Squirt were making eyes on each other. They even watched a movie on the couch, completely entwined. Today, Little Squirt is all, “Can I go visit Maggie at her house??” He doesn’t quite care that it would take a big expressway and the better part of an hour to get there.

Tonight we are entertaining more friends again. So I must go now! I have to make a drink run. And prepare some Sausage Penne. Oooooh I absolutely LOVE having company! The menu-planning, table-setting, the conversations. It's all such fun! So, that being said, don’t be shy! Give me a call and we’ll plan an evening to get together this summer. I still have a few empty dates on our calendar that Super Hubs believes are fine left blank but I don’t concur. They must be filled with friends. Or I'll be forced to flag down strangers. I'm tellin' you....

Head-thumping

Although I am becoming phenomenally proficient at Animal Clairvoyance in preparation for my new-found career as a Pet Psychic, I have discovered that I am extremely deficient in getting inside my children’s heads.
Two cases in point:

1.) Butterfly was aghast that I wouldn't let her drive the Toyota to her social event tonight. Super Hubs and I preferred to take the Toyota on our Date (It’s newer, better on gas mileage, and, let’s face it, way hotter), but offered the mini-van to Buttefly. She refused it. So, thinking I was being generously flexible, I volunteered to chauffeur her to her friend’s home. She gave me a look not unlike the horror-filled countenance she wore when she discovered, at age 7, how babies were conceived. “OMG! Are you kidding me?? No seniors ever get driven by their parents!! What do you think I am; a Freshman??” (Said with scorn.)
So, given her choices were,
A.) Stay home,
B.) Drive the minivan,
C.) Find a ride;
she promptly found a ride.
Just yesterday, Butterfly thought I was cool enough to exist while stuffing her wallet with allowance money. Tonight she fancies herself an orphan, needing to sponge rides off unsuspecting friends. Who knew??

2.) Little Squirt joined us at Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner this evening. He spent the night staring googly-eyed at the blonde preschooler sitting at the neighboring table, his mini-corn dogs and smiley-face fries going cold on his plate. At one point, he turned to me and whispered, “Mommy, I can’t get that girl off my mind.” Then, thinking I didn’t take his statement seriously enough, he whispered, more ferociously, “I mean it, Momma! I can’t get her off my mind!” So either he’s a budding pop songwriter, or my little boy thinks she’s The Bomb.
Just yesterday Little Squirt discovered that there are two genders in humankind. And tonight, he’s in love. Who knew again??

I am finding the mind of a Rottweiler much less complex. I think it's a wise career choice, veritably.

Pet Smart

After several days of brainstorming future career possibilities, I have come to a decision on what I would like to do with the rest of my life. I am going to be a Pet Psychic. Now hear me out.

Super Hubs and I had dinner with my Drama Team last night, and one of the actors had us in hysterics over this story. A few months ago, he had given his hyper, out-of-control Golden Retriever, Gracie, to another family that has a large property and a Labrador. And my friend had recently called to check on the Golden, see how she was adjusting to her new home, and asked if he could come and visit. And the new owner told him that she had taken Gracie to a “Pet Communicator” who said that Gracie said she was not yet ready for a visit with her old family, because it was too confusing for her during this transitional season. And to begin her life afresh, she had chosen to change her name to Daisy May. (You read that right.) The dog changed her own name. To Daisy May. According to this Pet Communicator. (I am not making this up.)

Oooookaaaay. (At the risk of offending all the Pet Psychics who read my blog) WHAT A SCAM!! But, good for these opportunists who capitalize on the innocence of people who simply long for insight into the relentless barking of Fido. Or who want to better understand why Fluffy has been peeing on their Manolo Blahniks. Or better yet…….how Spot is faring since he’s “crossed over.” Yes, these Pet Psychics even claim to communicate with dead mammals! WHAT a racket!!

So I will wear a large purple caftan with a big crystal around my neck, and call myself “Sister Moonbeam, Animal Communicator.” And then I’ll charge $100 per 30 minute phone consultation. More if the pet is alive and well and on my premises. And much more if I have to decode a message from The Great Beyond. And, in no time at all, I’ll be flush. Perhaps I can buy that yacht I’ve been longing for.

I don’t believe it will be difficult to feign I mean telepathically understand what a pet is trying to communicate. In fact, I’ll start right now! I’ll read my cat, Peppermint, through Thought Transference. Hark- I can hear his very cognition! He’s saying, “Get out of my face with that damn camera, and let me continue my career of slothing.” See how easy that was for me??

I believe I will have a very lucrative business! Please remember to refer me to the Easily Exploitable.
Sister Moonbeam, A.C.

"Retirement" Day One

MORNING: Slept in. Didn’t get my @$$$ out of bed until 6:12am, which was far later than Little Squirt’s usual 5:52am wakeup call. (He was clearly respectful of my first day of Retirement.) Checked email (spam), and then enjoyed a leisurely cup of coffee with the daily paper. Checked my email again (more spam), and then sent a few text messages to my friends with crucially important questions, such as, “Waz up?” Did a 30-minute power walk and made nice with a new neighbor that I think was frightened by my power walking ensemble and lack of makeup. Took a luxurious shower with some new gel. It was all too exciting! Shaved……never mind. (Too much info.)

AFTERNOON: Checked my email again. (More spam.) Sent a few more texts. Attempted to weed my front-walk garden….lasted for 12 minutes until I was bored with ……the weeds. And the dirt. And freaked by the bugs. (I hate bugs.) Checked my email. (Nothing but Flylady reminders. Good Lord, where are all my friends??) Checked my cell phone- no messages. (Sigh.) Finished a book and began a new book. Accidentally dozed on the couch for 42 minutes which is technically not a nap because I did not intend to nap. Checked my email again. (2 from friends! Wahoo!) Watched Dr.Phil and cringed for the clueless toxic family portrayed. (What do people NOT GET about, “This will be shown on National TV??”)

EVENING: Made ziti with Bolognese. Cast a Drama and made phone calls to Drama Cast. Ate dinner with family. Hung with Butterfly and girlfriend, until Butterfly politely asked me to scram. Received 2 text messages. (Yipee!) Checked email. (More Flylady and spam. Sigh.) Blogged.

You still reading ?? Ho hum. Clearly I must seek employment!

Final Chapter

Tomorrow I begin retirement, of sorts. I have homeschooled my children for 7 years, and I am now officially finished. In a blink of an eye, it’s done. Kaput. Finito.

So I will put the school bell away on the shelf, take off my spectacles and turn out the light in the classroom for the last time. (I don’t actually use a bell. Or spectacles for my 20/20 vision. Or a classroom, for that matter. I was just speaking metaphorically.) It’s the end of an era in our home.

Rock Star will be entering high school in the fall with Butterfly; his first year and her fourth. And Little Squirt will start kindergarten in an excellent public school system. And it’ll be good for his extroverted, outgoing nature. He needs more socially than what I provide for him at home. I am not the Energizer Bunny, for Pete’s sake! Super Hubs and I have processed-schmocessed this at length and know it’s the right thing to do. So why do I feel like he’s just enlisted?? (Sniff.)

My emotions are running the bi-polar gamete from sorrow to joy. In boxing up a ton of curriculum, I can reclaim my bookshelf space, get rid of some clutter and organize the basement. And I’ll gain about 4 hours in personal time that I can utilize for some humanitarian good. Or maybe for napping.

Good-bye, Math. I will not miss you a bit. You've frustrated us to no end.
Au Revoir, Literature. I have thoroughly enjoyed our adventures!
Science, we’ve had a rocky romance. I’ll remember you with…fickleness.
And to the other subjects- Thanks for the memories. They are rich.

Now I can regress back to dumbness. I don’t have to have all the answers and all the responsibilities of educating my children.
Wohoo!!