I have loads of pictures and stories to tell, but the internet here is SLOOOOOW and is exacerbated by the fact that my puny little laptop stinks. I'm buying a MacBookPro as soon as I can.
So I'm making the executive decision to close my Dell laptop until I get back to the mainland. No blogging. No Facebook. No email. Thank goodness I still have Diet Coke or I might go mad.
Just know that we're all sunburned and loving it. Today I went snorkeling in Trunk Bay and saw oodles of sea coral, angel fish, and a gorgeous multi-colored parrotfish.
On Monday I knocked a coconut down from a palm tree using the pool sweeper. I then got all Survivor and spent an hour pounding the thing against a rock until we were able to remove enough of the husk to reach the brown shell, which Kevin then whacked open for me. The kids each got a sip of fresh coconut milk and I got to gnaw on the white interior. Mmmm.
Tonight we grilled on the deck, drank cocktails, and watched my tipsy mother-in-law and her sisters line dance out by the pool. I kept waiting for someone to fall into the water but they managed to stay dry.
And last night we talked in the dark for an hour during a power outage, which apparently are quite common on the island. We lit oil lamps and made smores on the gas stove and watched lightning flash across the sky every few seconds.
But now I must retire to my rock-hard mattress and let the rustling palm trees lull me to sleep. I need my rest, you know, but all the sand-castle-building I'll be doing tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Caribbean Adventure - Day 1
Travel Day, which consisted of...
4:45 a.m. Wake up and finish last-minute packing of food since American Airlines now charges for every little morsel of food on planes. They don't even give away free peanuts anymore!
5:40 a.m. Wake up the kids. Kendra rolled over and said, "Is today really the day we're going on the trip?" Yes, sweetie, now get up and move fast.
6:30 a.m. We've driven to the airport, parked in long-term parking, and are on board the shuttle to the airport. The kids are surprisingly chipper.
10 a.m. We've already made it to Dallas, RAN to the connecting flight, and jumped on a 4+ hour flight to San Juan, Puerto Rico.
Kendra and I got seated in front of two cute but bouncy boys who were probably 6 and 9 years old. The 7-year-old discovered that he could stick his feet in between the seat cushion and chair back, and as a result I kept getting goosed by his tiny toes. I would then tickle his toes and he'd retreat, but soon after his toes would reappear to give my tushie a tickle. I was unusually entertained by this scenario and never told his mom about it. I really just wanted to see if the boy would figure out why his toes kept getting grabbed. I don't think he did.
4:05 p.m. Puerto Rico. Not sure what to say about this place except I've never been so afraid to get on a plane before in my life. It was a two-propeller puddle jumper plane. The service aspect of the flight consisted of grabbing a water bottle from a cooler while we were about to climb the stairs. My family thought it was great...
I think I've been watching too many episodes of "Lost" because I did nothing but envision our watery demise the entire flight.
5-something p.m. We've made it to St. Thomas, turned down a free shot of rum, and went to the Budget counter to retrieve our rental car. Without so much as an apology, Budget informs us that they are OUT OF CARS. She offers no explanations, no remedies, no nothing. Hey Budget, you stink. Try honoring the reservation process next time. I debated going back for the free rum but we needed to hurry.
5:15 p.m. We jump an overpriced shuttle and hightail it to Red Hook Bay for the ferry to St. John. It's hilly and our driver has no fear of sharp turns or oncoming traffic, apparently. While we were driving my father-in-law called our cell phone every 5 minutes (literally!) to see how far away from the ferry we were. Ring ring! Where are you? Um, we're about to skid off the cliff into the ocean. Ring ring! Where are you now? I don't know, we just passed a bar called Rumtastic. Ring ring! Where are you now? [Beats head with cell phone.] We're here! At the ferry! Now stop calling us!
6:30 p.m. Arrive at St. John. We have one rental car for 9 people, so some of us wait near the dock while the others shuttle up to the house. I was in the waiting group. My 20-minute wait consisted of trying to avoid all eye contact with the extremely drunk men who were ogling everyone who walked by. And seeing a man with blood splattered all over his shirt while holding a dirty rag to his bloody head. And watching inebriated people stumble around while an ear-busting reggae band sang about sexy bodies nearby. Good times.
7:30 p.m. We're at the house, which is stinking gorgeous. But now I've got to listen to my oldest daughter verbally process how terrified she was of all the drunk, bloody people at the dock. Are we safe, she asks? Can the bad people find us here? Can I sleep with you? Frankly, I understand her fears. But in order to get to the house you have to drive up STEEP switchbacks and hills. I think we're OK up here. But I lock the doors anyway.
9 p.m. The kids are finally asleep and I can enjoy a rum and Coke. Vacation is good.
4:45 a.m. Wake up and finish last-minute packing of food since American Airlines now charges for every little morsel of food on planes. They don't even give away free peanuts anymore!
5:40 a.m. Wake up the kids. Kendra rolled over and said, "Is today really the day we're going on the trip?" Yes, sweetie, now get up and move fast.
6:30 a.m. We've driven to the airport, parked in long-term parking, and are on board the shuttle to the airport. The kids are surprisingly chipper.
10 a.m. We've already made it to Dallas, RAN to the connecting flight, and jumped on a 4+ hour flight to San Juan, Puerto Rico.Kendra and I got seated in front of two cute but bouncy boys who were probably 6 and 9 years old. The 7-year-old discovered that he could stick his feet in between the seat cushion and chair back, and as a result I kept getting goosed by his tiny toes. I would then tickle his toes and he'd retreat, but soon after his toes would reappear to give my tushie a tickle. I was unusually entertained by this scenario and never told his mom about it. I really just wanted to see if the boy would figure out why his toes kept getting grabbed. I don't think he did.
4:05 p.m. Puerto Rico. Not sure what to say about this place except I've never been so afraid to get on a plane before in my life. It was a two-propeller puddle jumper plane. The service aspect of the flight consisted of grabbing a water bottle from a cooler while we were about to climb the stairs. My family thought it was great...
I think I've been watching too many episodes of "Lost" because I did nothing but envision our watery demise the entire flight. 5-something p.m. We've made it to St. Thomas, turned down a free shot of rum, and went to the Budget counter to retrieve our rental car. Without so much as an apology, Budget informs us that they are OUT OF CARS. She offers no explanations, no remedies, no nothing. Hey Budget, you stink. Try honoring the reservation process next time. I debated going back for the free rum but we needed to hurry.
5:15 p.m. We jump an overpriced shuttle and hightail it to Red Hook Bay for the ferry to St. John. It's hilly and our driver has no fear of sharp turns or oncoming traffic, apparently. While we were driving my father-in-law called our cell phone every 5 minutes (literally!) to see how far away from the ferry we were. Ring ring! Where are you? Um, we're about to skid off the cliff into the ocean. Ring ring! Where are you now? I don't know, we just passed a bar called Rumtastic. Ring ring! Where are you now? [Beats head with cell phone.] We're here! At the ferry! Now stop calling us!
6:30 p.m. Arrive at St. John. We have one rental car for 9 people, so some of us wait near the dock while the others shuttle up to the house. I was in the waiting group. My 20-minute wait consisted of trying to avoid all eye contact with the extremely drunk men who were ogling everyone who walked by. And seeing a man with blood splattered all over his shirt while holding a dirty rag to his bloody head. And watching inebriated people stumble around while an ear-busting reggae band sang about sexy bodies nearby. Good times.
7:30 p.m. We're at the house, which is stinking gorgeous. But now I've got to listen to my oldest daughter verbally process how terrified she was of all the drunk, bloody people at the dock. Are we safe, she asks? Can the bad people find us here? Can I sleep with you? Frankly, I understand her fears. But in order to get to the house you have to drive up STEEP switchbacks and hills. I think we're OK up here. But I lock the doors anyway.
9 p.m. The kids are finally asleep and I can enjoy a rum and Coke. Vacation is good.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Reason #233 Why Guys Have It Easier
We are leaving tomorrow for a Caribbean adventure, so today I'm attempting to pack everything five people might need for seven days, six flights and two ferry rides.
All while trying to keep it under American Airlines' absurdly bogus weight regulations for both checked luggage and carry-ons.
Here's the thing about being a girl... we can't just wear the same shoes every day. Each outfit has a particular pair of shoes that looks best. And while I'm trying to pack logically according to color, I can't whittle down my shoe selection beyond this:
And that doesn't even include the pair of running shoes I'll be wearing on the plane tomorrow. My footsies get cold on planes, don't ya know. And apparently we'll be doing some hiking so I really do need those sneakers.
This is a wedding trip, so I need fancy shoes for the wedding, fancy shoes for the rehearsal, flip flops in tan, brown and black, and throwaway pair of cheap red flip flops for the beach. Just in case a shark eats them or something.
Seven pairs of shoes for a seven-day trip. Sometimes it's so hard being a girl.
All while trying to keep it under American Airlines' absurdly bogus weight regulations for both checked luggage and carry-ons.
Here's the thing about being a girl... we can't just wear the same shoes every day. Each outfit has a particular pair of shoes that looks best. And while I'm trying to pack logically according to color, I can't whittle down my shoe selection beyond this:
And that doesn't even include the pair of running shoes I'll be wearing on the plane tomorrow. My footsies get cold on planes, don't ya know. And apparently we'll be doing some hiking so I really do need those sneakers.
This is a wedding trip, so I need fancy shoes for the wedding, fancy shoes for the rehearsal, flip flops in tan, brown and black, and throwaway pair of cheap red flip flops for the beach. Just in case a shark eats them or something.
Seven pairs of shoes for a seven-day trip. Sometimes it's so hard being a girl.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Hello, World (and by World I mean my six friends who actually read this blog)
I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am about this blog design. I've been blogging over at craftycassie for a couple years now, and I've always been annoyed by the blahness of the blahg design. Not that the nice folks at Blogger don't have decent templates, but I wanted COLOR! FUN! THREE COLUMNS!
Problem was that my HTML skills are nonexistent. I don't even know what HTML stands for. Let's just say that my computer skills peaked in 1993. When PageMaker was still the hottest program in desktop publishing. And digital cameras were crazy expensive and the good ones had 4.0 megapixels.
Oh, have times have changed. I, however, have not. Technology and I are not good friends.
So when Beth announced that she had started up a new business for blog design, I jumped on the half-price sale. Beth farmed me out to Christy, her partner in bloggity crime. I'm sure Beth did it becauseshe thinks I'm a stalker Christy is a fellow Texas gal who lives down the road and understands my love for the word y'all.
By the way, in Texas "down the road" means within 200 miles. Because Texas is roughly the size of western Europe but with a whole lot more deodorant. Did I mention that is was 102 degrees here today? And yet I still chose to eat lunch on the non-air-conditioned outdoor patio at Beto's where the only breeze came from the rapidly buzzing wings of flies who wanted to swim in my Diet Coke?
But, I digress.
It took a couple weeks to finalize everything, but Christy gave me this gorgeous blog design. I love it. Really, really love it. It's COLORFUL! It's FUN! It has THREE COLUMNS! Best yet, it embodies the two things that most define my life: flip flops and craziness.
I don't remember when I first started using the phrase "half step from crazy," but there is no better expression to define my life. Once in college I was having an internal meltdown while trying to keep up the facade of being emotionally stable. At one point I confided in my good friend Christi that I was afraid to share my feelings because I didn't want everyone to think I was crazy. Christi looked at me and said, in her wonderful deadpan way, "Chels, everyone already KNOWS you're crazy."
That one-liner gave me such release. If everyone already KNOWS I'm crazy, why not embrace it? Why not share my bizarre sense of humor with people? Why not admit that I DON"T have it all together?
That's one thing I love about the blogosphere... we're all just a half step from crazy. I've encountered so many hilarious, quirky, and dry-witted souls who inspire me, make me laugh, and make me feel a little less crazy because of their own stories. Most of them are strangers, but a few are real-life friends. I love reading about your stories, and I hope you'll enjoy reading mine.
Problem was that my HTML skills are nonexistent. I don't even know what HTML stands for. Let's just say that my computer skills peaked in 1993. When PageMaker was still the hottest program in desktop publishing. And digital cameras were crazy expensive and the good ones had 4.0 megapixels.
Oh, have times have changed. I, however, have not. Technology and I are not good friends.
So when Beth announced that she had started up a new business for blog design, I jumped on the half-price sale. Beth farmed me out to Christy, her partner in bloggity crime. I'm sure Beth did it because
By the way, in Texas "down the road" means within 200 miles. Because Texas is roughly the size of western Europe but with a whole lot more deodorant. Did I mention that is was 102 degrees here today? And yet I still chose to eat lunch on the non-air-conditioned outdoor patio at Beto's where the only breeze came from the rapidly buzzing wings of flies who wanted to swim in my Diet Coke?
But, I digress.
It took a couple weeks to finalize everything, but Christy gave me this gorgeous blog design. I love it. Really, really love it. It's COLORFUL! It's FUN! It has THREE COLUMNS! Best yet, it embodies the two things that most define my life: flip flops and craziness.
I don't remember when I first started using the phrase "half step from crazy," but there is no better expression to define my life. Once in college I was having an internal meltdown while trying to keep up the facade of being emotionally stable. At one point I confided in my good friend Christi that I was afraid to share my feelings because I didn't want everyone to think I was crazy. Christi looked at me and said, in her wonderful deadpan way, "Chels, everyone already KNOWS you're crazy."
That one-liner gave me such release. If everyone already KNOWS I'm crazy, why not embrace it? Why not share my bizarre sense of humor with people? Why not admit that I DON"T have it all together?
That's one thing I love about the blogosphere... we're all just a half step from crazy. I've encountered so many hilarious, quirky, and dry-witted souls who inspire me, make me laugh, and make me feel a little less crazy because of their own stories. Most of them are strangers, but a few are real-life friends. I love reading about your stories, and I hope you'll enjoy reading mine.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
You Asked, I Answer: Part Two
A while back I volunteered to answer any question asked of me. I've officially run out of material so I'm returning to the questions...
Dear friend Stephanie asked, "So Chels...what would you love to see going on in your family and your life 10 years from now?"
What would I love to see going on in 10 years? The simple answer is that I want us to all be healthy and happy, a strong family unit whose love for Christ and each other is evident to everyone we meet.
That's the easy answer, but since this is my fantasy...
Kevin and I will be planning our 25th anniversary trip to Italy in 2019. We're going to explore Rome where I can translate all the Latin sayings for my uncultured but interested husband. We'll rent a car and drive to Tuscany and Florence and maybe Venice, although I've heard that city is overrated. We'll stop by the town of Caivano outside Naples and take a couple pictures of the signs as a memoir of his family's heritage. He'll present me with a fabulous pair of diamond earrings at some point during the trip.
I'd love to see Kendra heading off to college on a full scholarship, either for academics or softball. (She'd prefer softball, I'm sure.) Currently I think Baylor is a good choice, but we'll entertain offers from other Texas schools with solid reputations, strong Christian organizations, and a small-enough environment that Kendra won't feel overwhelmed or lost.
I'd love for Caelyn to be happily getting ready for her senior year at SACS. She'll have a gaggle of boys interested in her, I'm sure, but she'll prefer to hang out with her family and a sweet group of girlfriends. And by that time she'll be proficient enough in the kitchen that she'll be volunteering to cook dinner at least once a week. At this point she'll be debating whether to attend a four-year college or culinary school. She'll also go on a missionary trip this summer and I'll get to be one of the group's chaperones.
David will be getting ready to enter high school. He'll be playing junior varsity baseball or basketball. He'll still love his mommy best and will spontaneously give me hugs and "big juicies" on the cheek. He'll be handling the change from boy to man with grace and confidence.
Kevin will still be working somewhere -- either USAA or another firm -- as a tax accountant. He'll be happy and have hard-working coworkers who do their fair share of the workload and will appreciate Kevin's quiet management style.
Oh, and since this is my fantasy, I'll be all caught up on scrapbooking and will have a bookshelf full of wonderfully designed photo albums celebrating our family's highs and lows. And I'll be a size 8 with skinny ankles.
And we'll have a pool with a waterfall feature.
It's my fantasy, right?
Dear friend Stephanie asked, "So Chels...what would you love to see going on in your family and your life 10 years from now?"
What would I love to see going on in 10 years? The simple answer is that I want us to all be healthy and happy, a strong family unit whose love for Christ and each other is evident to everyone we meet.
That's the easy answer, but since this is my fantasy...
Kevin and I will be planning our 25th anniversary trip to Italy in 2019. We're going to explore Rome where I can translate all the Latin sayings for my uncultured but interested husband. We'll rent a car and drive to Tuscany and Florence and maybe Venice, although I've heard that city is overrated. We'll stop by the town of Caivano outside Naples and take a couple pictures of the signs as a memoir of his family's heritage. He'll present me with a fabulous pair of diamond earrings at some point during the trip.I'd love to see Kendra heading off to college on a full scholarship, either for academics or softball. (She'd prefer softball, I'm sure.) Currently I think Baylor is a good choice, but we'll entertain offers from other Texas schools with solid reputations, strong Christian organizations, and a small-enough environment that Kendra won't feel overwhelmed or lost.
I'd love for Caelyn to be happily getting ready for her senior year at SACS. She'll have a gaggle of boys interested in her, I'm sure, but she'll prefer to hang out with her family and a sweet group of girlfriends. And by that time she'll be proficient enough in the kitchen that she'll be volunteering to cook dinner at least once a week. At this point she'll be debating whether to attend a four-year college or culinary school. She'll also go on a missionary trip this summer and I'll get to be one of the group's chaperones.
David will be getting ready to enter high school. He'll be playing junior varsity baseball or basketball. He'll still love his mommy best and will spontaneously give me hugs and "big juicies" on the cheek. He'll be handling the change from boy to man with grace and confidence.
Kevin will still be working somewhere -- either USAA or another firm -- as a tax accountant. He'll be happy and have hard-working coworkers who do their fair share of the workload and will appreciate Kevin's quiet management style.
Oh, and since this is my fantasy, I'll be all caught up on scrapbooking and will have a bookshelf full of wonderfully designed photo albums celebrating our family's highs and lows. And I'll be a size 8 with skinny ankles.
And we'll have a pool with a waterfall feature.It's my fantasy, right?
Friday, June 13, 2008
Deep Thoughts With Crazy Lady
1. Have you ever noticed that pharmaceutical companies have an unusual fondness for the letters V, X, Y, and Z? Viagra. Vioxx. Valium. Xanax. Yaz. Prozac. Vicodin. Zyrtec. Zantac. Zoloft.
Did the companies feel sorry for those lonely letters at the end of the alphabet? Do those particular letters subliminally convey trustworthiness or health? Marketing fascinates me.
2. Here's a tip: Taking three young children to lunch at Luby's without another adult to help you is an extremely bad idea. The kids were overwhelmed by the cafeteria-style ordering. They had trouble choosing what they wanted and slowed up the line. The geriatric crowd behind us was most displeased with my family, especially when my kids realized they forgot to get their Jello cups and I had to go back in line, grab three overflowing cups of cherry Jello, inevitably spill a little on the floor, and then fight my way back to the front of the line to help my kids with their trays. A very kind employee helped me carry the kids' trays to the table, where I then realized that I HAD FORGOTTEN TO GET MYSELF ANY FOOD. I went back and grabbed a salad with a side of Valium.
3. I had a mystery shop today at a certain coffee chain that I don't particularly enjoy because they overroast their beans and their ridiculously priced coffee represents everything I abhor about American consumerism. But hey, it was a job. So is it bad that I let my four- and seven-year-old drink most of my oversweetened, overcaffeinated, overpriced drink? I mean, why not feed their addictions early?
4. Lastly, does anyone out there actually own a Sleep Number bed? Do you like it? Is it worth the money? My back is killing me and I'm in the market for a new bed that will make both Kevin and me happy. Kevin likes to sleep on the floor, so he prefers a rock-hard mattress. I can't stand a mattress that sags, but I also want some cushyness to cradle my spine. I'm thinking a Sleep Number will solve many problems, but I'm concerned it's just a glorified, marked-up Aerobed.
Did the companies feel sorry for those lonely letters at the end of the alphabet? Do those particular letters subliminally convey trustworthiness or health? Marketing fascinates me.
2. Here's a tip: Taking three young children to lunch at Luby's without another adult to help you is an extremely bad idea. The kids were overwhelmed by the cafeteria-style ordering. They had trouble choosing what they wanted and slowed up the line. The geriatric crowd behind us was most displeased with my family, especially when my kids realized they forgot to get their Jello cups and I had to go back in line, grab three overflowing cups of cherry Jello, inevitably spill a little on the floor, and then fight my way back to the front of the line to help my kids with their trays. A very kind employee helped me carry the kids' trays to the table, where I then realized that I HAD FORGOTTEN TO GET MYSELF ANY FOOD. I went back and grabbed a salad with a side of Valium.
3. I had a mystery shop today at a certain coffee chain that I don't particularly enjoy because they overroast their beans and their ridiculously priced coffee represents everything I abhor about American consumerism. But hey, it was a job. So is it bad that I let my four- and seven-year-old drink most of my oversweetened, overcaffeinated, overpriced drink? I mean, why not feed their addictions early?
4. Lastly, does anyone out there actually own a Sleep Number bed? Do you like it? Is it worth the money? My back is killing me and I'm in the market for a new bed that will make both Kevin and me happy. Kevin likes to sleep on the floor, so he prefers a rock-hard mattress. I can't stand a mattress that sags, but I also want some cushyness to cradle my spine. I'm thinking a Sleep Number will solve many problems, but I'm concerned it's just a glorified, marked-up Aerobed.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Kids + Strep = TV
A couple days ago I was going to lay down the law and keep my kids from the TV in an attempt to foster their creativity.
It was a grand idea with an even grander demise.
We spent Friday morning at the pediatrician's office confirming my suspicions that Kendra has strep throat. Here were my clues: Kendra told me multiple times that her throat was ON FIRE. And she had a fever. And she had a monster headache that wouldn't go away. And she TOOK A NAP on Thursday afternoon. I don't think that child has napped since 2001.
Kendra felt somewhat better upon hearing the diagnosis, because at least she knew her non-merciful mother was actually trying to take care of her. And she felt remarkably better after popping a few horse-sized doses of Amoxicillin.
So Mommy showed mercy by letting her watch Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses.
Now it's Sunday morning and Caelyn is feeling poorly, too. No fever, but she woke us up in the middle of the night and said her throat hurt. I'm debating whether I should take her to the extremely kid-friendly weekend pediatric clinic that hands out popsicles or whether I should just wait until tomorrow and try to get into our regular doctor for the strep test. I'm fairly certain Caelyn will have strep, too, considering she and Kendra shared a drink on Thursday.
Caelyn and I stayed home from church and she's lying in a pathetic heap on the couch watching Fetch with Ruff Ruffman. Apparently my TV experiment was doomed from the start. I'll try again when everyone's healthy.
It was a grand idea with an even grander demise.
We spent Friday morning at the pediatrician's office confirming my suspicions that Kendra has strep throat. Here were my clues: Kendra told me multiple times that her throat was ON FIRE. And she had a fever. And she had a monster headache that wouldn't go away. And she TOOK A NAP on Thursday afternoon. I don't think that child has napped since 2001.
Kendra felt somewhat better upon hearing the diagnosis, because at least she knew her non-merciful mother was actually trying to take care of her. And she felt remarkably better after popping a few horse-sized doses of Amoxicillin.
So Mommy showed mercy by letting her watch Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses.
Now it's Sunday morning and Caelyn is feeling poorly, too. No fever, but she woke us up in the middle of the night and said her throat hurt. I'm debating whether I should take her to the extremely kid-friendly weekend pediatric clinic that hands out popsicles or whether I should just wait until tomorrow and try to get into our regular doctor for the strep test. I'm fairly certain Caelyn will have strep, too, considering she and Kendra shared a drink on Thursday.
Caelyn and I stayed home from church and she's lying in a pathetic heap on the couch watching Fetch with Ruff Ruffman. Apparently my TV experiment was doomed from the start. I'll try again when everyone's healthy.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Is Summer Over Yet?
The kids have been home from school for a grand total of six days, not including the weekend since I kind of expect them to be around on those days anyway. Six days of non-stop chatter, attention-begging, "Mama-can-you-play-go-fish-with-me?" behavior. Your typical kid stuff.
I've also been the nice mom and let them watch more than their fair share of TV. They inaugurated the first day of vacation by watching "High School Musical 2." (Incidentally, whenever someone asks me what time it is, I automatically break out into the song from HSM2. I just can't help it.)
They've watched endless hours of Tom & Jerry, Handy Manny, Safety Patrol, and Fetch with Ruff Ruffman. OK, I've watched that show too. I love that show. It's the modern-day version of Zoom.
No more. Mean Mom is back in town and today the TV is staying off. Today they will read, darn it. Today they will be forced to interact with each other in a way that doesn't involve fighting over the Tivo remote. Today they will prance joyfully in our backyard with rainbows and hummingbirds. Wait, that last part might not happen.
At the very least, today I'm going to force them to DEAL WITH THEIR BOREDOM. I've decided not to play camp counselor and schedule every moment of their day. I'm not going to say, "Hey, let's stamp cards!" or bow down to their demands to play Mousetrap for the b'jillionth time.
Today I'm going to force them to get creative.
It's an experiment, if you will. We'll see if anyone survives. If I don't post again soon, you'll know I've been overcome by two pint-sized kiddos and their lanky older sister. Or else I'm hiding in MY room watching Fetch with Ruff Ruffman while ignoring the antics of my kids. Not like that's ever happened before.
Like I said, it's an experiment. Let's see who can last longer -- mom or the kids.
I've also been the nice mom and let them watch more than their fair share of TV. They inaugurated the first day of vacation by watching "High School Musical 2." (Incidentally, whenever someone asks me what time it is, I automatically break out into the song from HSM2. I just can't help it.)
They've watched endless hours of Tom & Jerry, Handy Manny, Safety Patrol, and Fetch with Ruff Ruffman. OK, I've watched that show too. I love that show. It's the modern-day version of Zoom.
No more. Mean Mom is back in town and today the TV is staying off. Today they will read, darn it. Today they will be forced to interact with each other in a way that doesn't involve fighting over the Tivo remote. Today they will prance joyfully in our backyard with rainbows and hummingbirds. Wait, that last part might not happen.
At the very least, today I'm going to force them to DEAL WITH THEIR BOREDOM. I've decided not to play camp counselor and schedule every moment of their day. I'm not going to say, "Hey, let's stamp cards!" or bow down to their demands to play Mousetrap for the b'jillionth time.
Today I'm going to force them to get creative.
It's an experiment, if you will. We'll see if anyone survives. If I don't post again soon, you'll know I've been overcome by two pint-sized kiddos and their lanky older sister. Or else I'm hiding in MY room watching Fetch with Ruff Ruffman while ignoring the antics of my kids. Not like that's ever happened before.
Like I said, it's an experiment. Let's see who can last longer -- mom or the kids.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Wow Hits Giveaway
I've spent the last two days attempting to figure out my kids' new MP3 players. (Kudos to Aunt Jamie for finally sending the Christmas gifts. In May. I love that.)
Here's what I've learned about me and technology: We're not compatible. Unless it comes with step-by-step instructions complete with actual photos of idiots like me trying to navigate the websites, I can't figure out modern technology. Incidentally, if somebody wants to have mercy on my girls and explain to me how I can load music onto their Zen MP3 players, they'd be most grateful.
But that's not my point here. My point is that I'm completely happy listening to CDs on my Discman or Bose stereo (but not in my car, because the CD player broke). Like all things, I'm a decade behind the rest of the world. I like the CD. It's easy. It's comfortable. It comes with lyrics.
So I was pretty excited when Shannon over at Rocks in my Dryer announced yet another giveaway. She's going to share 20 copies of the Wow Hits 1 CD. Just as I'm a fan of the CD, I'm also a fan of Wow Hits. We have several of the yearly compilations plus the Wow Worship CD. (My 7-year-old is reading over my shoulder and just said, "Oh, I love Wow Worship. Can I turn it on?" How's that for an endorsement?) Oh, and Shannon's also throwing in a box set of SEVENTEEN other CDs, including Casting Crown's The Altar and the Door, which is one of the best albums in history.
Here's hoping I'm one of the lucky ones on the Random Number Generator!
Here's what I've learned about me and technology: We're not compatible. Unless it comes with step-by-step instructions complete with actual photos of idiots like me trying to navigate the websites, I can't figure out modern technology. Incidentally, if somebody wants to have mercy on my girls and explain to me how I can load music onto their Zen MP3 players, they'd be most grateful.
But that's not my point here. My point is that I'm completely happy listening to CDs on my Discman or Bose stereo (but not in my car, because the CD player broke). Like all things, I'm a decade behind the rest of the world. I like the CD. It's easy. It's comfortable. It comes with lyrics.
So I was pretty excited when Shannon over at Rocks in my Dryer announced yet another giveaway. She's going to share 20 copies of the Wow Hits 1 CD. Just as I'm a fan of the CD, I'm also a fan of Wow Hits. We have several of the yearly compilations plus the Wow Worship CD. (My 7-year-old is reading over my shoulder and just said, "Oh, I love Wow Worship. Can I turn it on?" How's that for an endorsement?) Oh, and Shannon's also throwing in a box set of SEVENTEEN other CDs, including Casting Crown's The Altar and the Door, which is one of the best albums in history.
Here's hoping I'm one of the lucky ones on the Random Number Generator!
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