Back in the Saddle

Ok, ok, I've been officially back from vacation since Monday morning (4:30 AM to be exact) - I just couldn't bring myself to really start writing again. I had good intentions, I promise, I just couldn't decide on which story to start out with.

Do I tell my loyal readers about the Baja jeep adventure where we literally did see the most beautiful place on the earth (and where Jenny ate it on a coral reef thereby exposing the fact that she's not so very graceful after all)?

Or do I tell them about getting unknowingly snookered into a 90 minute timeshare presentation at Sammy Hagar's beachside villa?

Or should I mention the guy at our own resort who insisted on strutting his "stuff" in nothing but an electric blue speedo and a matching Nacho Libre Mexican wrestling mask?

Hmmm...so many choices. I think I'll have to sleep on it. Suffice it to say, we're back and we had a great time.

Hasta Luego, mis amigos.

Rice a Roni....(just try and not finish the jingle - I dare you)

Let me just say...for the record...San Francisco is one of the coolest towns I've ever been to. Literally.
We just spent four days there (in JULY you might note) and never once did I take off my sweater. In fact, I came this close to buying one of those $9.99 fleece jackets they sell on the street to stupid tourists like me but my pride held me back. I became one of those annoying people who no matter how cold it is and no matter how blue their lips are, won't admit that they are chilly.
As a team, ScreamFree worked at and attended the Smart Marriages Conference. It was four days of learning and networking - a great chance to see and be seen. I loved it, but I am warning everyone around me - I don't want to hear the words "needs" "intimacy" "connection" or "communication" for at least a month. I just don't think I can take any more cardigan talk (see "therapist jargon").
We got to meet some of the biggest names in the industry like Pat Love who wrote Hot Monogamy (yes, her name really is Love and yes, she sees the connection) and Gary Chapman author of The Five Languages of Love. You wouldn't recognize them on the street - or even in a bookstore - but at this conference, they were like rock stars. Seriously - everywhere they went, a buzz followed and swarms of grinning cardigans fell all over themselves to shake their hands.
I only stepped on one old lady to meet Pat Love. Oh, get over it - she was fine - her cane broke her fall.
This week, Hal and I are on vacation - a real honest to goodness vacation without kids OR LAPTOPS!!!!!! We are celebrating 15 years of marriage and we have three rules this week. We are not allowed to talk about:
1. ScreamFree
2. Our Kids
3. ScreamFree
Pray for us - there might be a whole lot of silence that first day. :)

Borrow my Baby...Please

Has anyone out there heard of the newest reality tv show? It's called Baby Borrowers. It takes real teenage couples and has them live together and attempt to care for an infant one week, a toddler the next, then an adolescent, a teen, and then an elderly person.

Here are a few questions I have for the producers of this show:

1. Who are these parents who are going to allow their babies to live with teens for a week? Have these parents ever been around teens? Don't get me wrong, I think teenagers are great...as kids...as people. But as "play parents" to a helpless little infant? Hell no.

2. How did you choose the old person? Did you go to a nursing home and look for the most crotchety guy in the room? Did he want to go live with teens or did his family send him? Do they have to change his diapers?

3. Do they need two more kids? I happen to know a couple who are available - I could use a week off.



I haven't made up my mind about this yet - part of me wonders why these teens are interested in doing this at all. Why aren't they enjoying their friends? Visiting colleges? Lifeguarding at the pool? What teen couple is so serious that they wonder, "Hmmm... could we raise a family together?"

Then I am reminded that I was married before my 21st birthday. Come to think of it, maybe that's why I want to grab these teens and tell them to run for the hills. No reality show could do the whole marriage and kids thing justice. Don't get me wrong. I love my life and I don't regret a single choice I made - it just wasn't the easiest thing ever. Then again, easy isn't always better.

A Day at the Beach

I went to Decatur's Beach on the Block Party last Friday with my good friend Brandy and our kids. It sounded like a really good idea. Sand on the square, live music, inflatables, corn dogs. The kids and I were super excited about it all. But once we got there, I remembered something about myself that I all too often forget. I hate people.

Don't get me wrong. Individuals, I like. Small groups, that's cool. No, I'm talking about mass humanity and all the things that come along with that. When we turned the corner to Decatur square, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. The "beach" on the square was probably the size of my living room and it was ... and I am not exaggerating... so thick with people that you couldn't see the sand. It was the most ridiculous sight I have ever seen. Except maybe for this thing I stumbled across this morning on one of my favorite blogs: http://www.pregnancystore.com/zaky.htm

After losing two hours of my life, $60 of my money, and almost all of my sanity, we finally went home. Mental note: Festivals suck, no matter what any of you say. And sand just makes them that much worse.

A Proud Mom Moment

My family is not obsessed with Indiana Jones...ok maybe just a little obsessed. But we're not completely gone. I mean, it's not like we still have Hal's old school Raiders of the Lost Ark sleeping bag, or the new Indiana Jones Life game, or incriminating photos of Hal dressed as his hero for Halloween. No, that would be taking things too far.

What's been funny to watch is that Brandon is about the same age now as Hal was when the first movie came out. And if any child ever looked like a carbon copy of his father, that would be my son. I promise, I did have some small part in the process of his DNA strand forming, but to look at him, you can't tell.

Anyway, point of this post? I'm getting there! Geesh, you people can be so impatient.
The point of this post is this...We are creating a monster. Apparently one who worships Satan.

My son recently discovered the second movie in the series, The Temple of Doom. (sidenote - save yourself the trouble of emailing me how this movie is too dark for a 9 year old - he had no problem with The Shining and The Exorcist, so this is a piece of cake) (second sidenote - if you didn't detect the sarcasm in the first sidenote and took me seriously, I feel really sorry for your kids when they become teenagers - irony....learn about it).

So, he's watching the movie - with his headphones on because mom is a little anal and likes her quiet every now and again - and from the other room I hear his little scratchy voice call out with passion, "Om nah shiva! Om nah shiva! Om nah shiva!"

I almost fell out of my chair because:
1. I didn't even know he was in the next room
and
2. He was chanting what the poor soul who is sacrificed in a pit of fire chants as he prays to his own devil god.

Good Parenting Lesson 101: Expose your children early and often to devil worship and you too could have sweet looking spawn who will repeat phrases like this in the most inoportune places, such as church or when on the phone to grandma.

Indiana Jones and The Last Garage Door

If any of you know my husband, you know that he loves (and when I say loves, read "has a tremendous man crush on") Indiana Jones. There are so many stories I could tell that testify to his devotion, but there are some things better left unsaid.

What I will tell you about is his little adventure yesterday which was inspired by Indy and which left Hannah and I laughing so hard that I really do think I pulled something.

On the way to Hannah's orientation, my cell phone rings. It's Hal, who is supposed to be following us in his own car. I answer and he says dryly, "Can you please turn around and come home now?" To which I of course ask, "Why?" His response? A cryptic, "You'll see."

So, I make the required U-Turn and head home expecting that maybe the Beast (our 1996 Honda Odyssey) has a flat tire or won't start...again. What I didn't expect to see was my husband with his nose pressed flat against the closed garage door and his foot trapped under it. The look on his face was at once priceless and pathetic as he just arched his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. He was so adorable and so absolutely helpless that I almost left him there just because I could. But, I believe in karma and I think I owe him one for the pantyhose incident of 1997, so I hit the garage remote and turn him loose.

After Hannah and I stopped hysterically heaving from laughter, he explained how he ended up in a lip lock with the garage. He tried to be all Harrison Ford and sneak out from under the closing door after hitting the button, but alas, he is not quite so suave as his 66 year old mentor. As he was no doubt hearing the John Williams music fill his ears, his keys fell out of his pocket. I wish I could have been there when he attempted to reach in with his foot to retreive said keys - I guess he didn't have his whip with him and he was trying to make do. Indy would be so proud.

Today is the Big Day

Well folks, it has finally arrived...Hannah's 6th grade orientation. Today, she will venture over into the "big side" of campus where she won't have to walk in lines between classes and ... big thrill...she can sit with whoever she wants to at lunch!

I'm cool with all of that. I think she's ready. It's me I'm not so sure about. I'm simply not old enough to have a daughter in, gulp...junior high. I REMEMBER junior high for Pete's sake! I had a fully formed internal life by that point and my parents knew nothing!

I had crushes, I loved music, I had drama with my friends, I had teachers who were out to get me, I knew things that my parents could only hope that I didn't. How did Father Time let things get this far this fast? Seriously, my 6th grade orientation was only a few years ago, right?

Time to face the music. I'm getting older. The wrinkles are marching forward just as steadily as the mortgage payments. The thing I can't get over is that I still feel like a kid myself on most days. Is that normal or do I have some sort of Peter Pan syndrome? Who knows. The one thing I'm sure of is that I have to attend this thing today. I'll go, but I won't like it. I at least hope that the session for parents is helpful. Hey, maybe they'll talk about what to do when your 11 year old is posessed by demons or how to not laugh when she gets her eyes literally hurt from rolling them so much.