Alter Ego

When you are on a vacation like this,











you may forget yourself.











You may do things you never thought you would do.















You may become a completely different person.









You might discover a part of you that you never knew existed.
















Or you might remember who you were before the static white noise of life got in the way.

Other People's Photos

Virginia is the Captain of the boat. You have to do everything she says. A the end of the trip she presented each of us with a number of gifts, including a personal photo album of our trip. I really like and admire her a lot.

Another thing she does is borrow everyone's cameras at different points and download everyone's photographs. At the end of the trip she will place all of the photographs on a flash drive, so everyone ends up with 850 photographs of the vacation. Many people, such as Terry, refuse to do this because 850 photographs are too many to look at. She has a point. It makes selecting which photos to share or include in albums almost impossible. This is why each of these vacations posts have eleven images.

I promised Virginia that I would take my flash drive and share it with my parents, because they do not understand how these things work. One of the first things I did was go to my mother's computer and plug in the flash drive. Then I opened up iPhoto. And there were photos of the boat.

I was confused. I hadn't transfered the photos, yet I recognized this picture of me from behind... It took a moment, but it finally dawned on me that this was not a photograph of me. It was actually a photograph of Linda.

On the boat.

Linda didn't go on the boat this year, she went last year.

I was looking at last year's photographs.

Which were the last photographs added to Mom's iPhoto account.

Because she doesn't open it. Ever.



One of the best things about getting to have other people's photographs, though, is that sometimes, or most of the time, other people turn out to be better photographers than you do. Or than I do. Also, I now actually have photographs from a vacation I took and I am in some of the pictures!

Nothing To Do

 It is so absolutely BOring on the boat, there is ABsolutely NOthing to do!

Getting There Is Half The Fun

I never think getting there is half the fun. In fact, with my track record, getting there is usually The Absolute Torture One Must Endure In Order To Have The Fun. And then you have to do it again on the way back.



I don't usually like travelling with my parents. Mom, Dad, I love you, but I prefer to have a printed itinerary in my hand the day before departure, and to know which country I am flying to before leaving for the airport. When I would bring these things up in conversation with my parents before the trip, I was assured that there was, actually, an itinerary printed out somewhere, and that we'd figure it out before we got there.




So I kind of did this thing where I unhinged my brain from the rest of my body and went into follow mode.




So the last thing I expected was the be flying business class to Barbados.






Please understand me when I say I will never be able to fly anywhere ever again. I have been totally and completely spoiled. The leg room! The ability to recline the seat ALL the way back! The personal TV's with tons of movie and television choices! The food with real silverware! The flight attendants that smile and don't look at you like you've been smuggling explosives in the diaper bag.




Of course, then we got to Barbados and began filling out what seemed to be an endless supply of forms. We had to go through customs, see? So Each time we arrived we had to tell there where we came from, and why, and how long we were staying and when we were leaving, and then two minutes later we had to provide everyone with exactly the same information on a different form. At our last airport we were led to an empty room with a CUSTOMS sign swinging in the breeze, and people actually came out of the back room to make us walk through immigration one at a time, and we watched as a guy unloaded our carry-ons onto a conveyor belt that would have easily fit inside my kitchen.



But the best part was the second flight.













Leaving Barbados we got on a charter plane. It was so small. It had spinning propellors. I sat next to my dad, and we both had a window seat!










  Here was my view:

 I could see the shadow of the plane on the ground, and then on the ocean. It took 30 minutes, and I thought we would drop out of the sky at any moment. But we didn't. And then when we got there it was so worth it!

The Land Of Expectations

I didn't know what to expect on this trip I just took. I was nervous about leaving my family for so long. I was apprehensive about being on a boat for days. What if I didn't have enough to do?

Before I left I reminded myself that, even if I hated every moment, I could sleep as much as I wanted to, and I didn't have to make my bed, or cook dinner. Also, it would be warm. 

The boat was the best boat I have ever been on. Now, we have a boat, but our boat and this boat are simply not in the same category. This vacation boat was huge, and fancy. Not only did it have several bedrooms, but actual showers in each one. And bathrooms with toilets and sinks.  Not to mention a fabulous location. And fabulous views.

Return From Vacation

I'm back from vacation, but I need a few days to recover. Even though Steve did  wonderful job taking care of things at home, not to mention our children, it's hard to jump right back in. Tonight we had Chinese, and I was still frazzled trying to figure out how things were stacked in the fridge, and where the cat dishes were (on the fridge). At bedtime I had to change a lightbulb and some sheets that had been peed in but not changed. All of this, mind you, while the world is still bobbing around, insisting I am still on the boat. Also,  I'm still not used to wearing pants again.

I'll try to get some photos up by Saturday.

All The World

I love Marla Frazee's books. Every single one makes me laugh and then tear up and cry.

Why haven't you heard of her, you ask?

Well, how often do you read children's books?

I happen to believe that children's books can be read and appreciated by adults. In fact, the best ones are. Oh, not the ones that regurgitate the plots of films, or that talk down to kids. But there are others that are beautiful and touching. All The World is one of these.

All of Marla Frazee's books make me smile, actually.

Dream Vacation

It might seem a little odd to be posting about DisneyWorld and them immediately posting about another really exciting and rare vacation.

But I am.

I am going to the Caribbean on a boat with my parents and a cast of characters. The trip will last over a week. Almost two weeks, when I pad a day on each side for travelling to and from New York, the official point of departure. The cast of characters will NOT include some major players. Such as my husband. Or my children.

As the trip is approaching, I am feeling more and more nervous. I have packed and re-packed my suitcase. This wasn't hard - I need bathing suits and something to throw on over. Everything fits in one tiny bag. I'm not sure why I keep sifting through this stuff.

One thing I do know, though. I am nervous about leaving my kids. I've left them with Steve before. I mean, he is the other parent. One would think he would be capable of taking care of his own kids. But still. I have never been away for so long before.

I'm making Steve a survival guide, a list of things that need to be done each day - like which days the boys have karate, and when the trash goes out. I know he's not going to even glance at this, and the boys will miss all activities and the trash won't even fit in all the barrels. But I feel better knowing that he won't be sitting around, wondering what the schedule is, or misjudging how much insulin to inject the cat with.

Don't get me wrong. I'm looking forward to this vacation. I deserve a vacation. I am really looking forward to not having to pick up after people, or do laundry, and to have someone else make the meals. I;m looking forward to needing sunscreen and tropical drinks, and some grown up conversation. And while I'm away I shall take photographs and make everyone jealous. I will return with funny or awkward stories, further tales of air travel, and a renewed appreciation for my family.

I'm just going to miss them all so much.

Disney

I may have mentioned that I am planning a trip to DisneyWorld in the fall.

This is a Very Big Deal. I love Disney World, and if I could live there with my kids I would. We could withdraw from society and live in the underground tunnels. We would focus on riding as many of the rides as possible every day, and eat only Mickey shaped ice-creams and churros. 

 See how happy I was the last time we went? And that was before we arrived. we were STILL ON THE BUS! But we had just spent hours on a plane, and Nick was only a little older than Andy is now.

I can't wait to go again.I am really looking forward to this trip.

Happy Birthday Emily

Happy Birthday to A Super Cool Aunt, my sister Emily! I love you and miss you.

Also, you have nice hair and you're a snappy dresser.

Tennessee 2008

This is from one of our first driving trips to Tennessee. I am still amazed at how much the boys have grown. I never notice it until I see how they acted as babies.

Storyland 2008

I've been digging through old photos and videos.

Keep Calm and All That...

Each morning I tell myself that this day will e different. I will be calm. I will be a good parent and I will not let the stresses of getting ready in the morning and sending everyone of to respective schools turn me into a screeching banchee.

And then, as if to spite me, we have the following exchange.

Me: Guys, I just gave the cat his shot and he is soaking wet! Does anyone know...

Andy: Oh, yeah! I accidentally peed on him.

Banchee enter stage right.

It all comes back to this

Andy has developed a love of photography.

We know this. Over Thanksgiving he took pictures with my camera for over two hours. This prompted my parents to give him a camera for christmas - a V-tech deal that takes actual digital photos and takes video. Did you ever think you'd live to see the day? Well, he doesn't really end up taking too many pictures with it because it also plays games.

Recently he has been focused on taking pictures with my computer. The Photo Booth application will take shots of whoever is sitting in front of the screen. Andrew asks to sit infront of the computer whenever he can, and will manipulate the style and background to see what he can create.

Which is why I found the following saved on my desktop:

Of course, when I see Andy taking all of these pictures, I immediately have my own version of the "Maybe One Day He'll Be President" daydream. Only instead of becoming a politician,  I imagine Andy doing something like this.

But boys will be boys, I guess. I can have whatever dreams I want, but when it comes down it it, he's going to do what he's going to do.

Still, I have to admit I was shocked and surprised when he ran into the bathroom, where I was cleaning the bathtub. His eyes were shining and bright. "Mom!" he said. "You have to come and see! I pulled down my pants and took pictures of my bum!"

Oh, the craziness.

Say It In Writing

Proof I'm Crazy

Remember Ice-Cream for Breakfast Day?

Boy In A Tree

I don't know if I should let Nate Climb trees. If I do I feel I'm letting him be reckless and endangering his welfare. If I don't I feel I'm being an overprotective ninny of a parent.

Gumball Machine

This is the story of a Gumball machine.

For christmas one year, Jamie got a gumball machine. I think Winston gave it to him, but I could be wrong. I remember being a little impressed with the gumball machine. It looked cool. But I didn't really think about it that much.

I must have been in the 10th grade the year of the Gumball Machine Fiasco. This fiasco involves other people, and I apologize to them because this is their story, too. Please think of me more as a historian, making a notation of facts for future generations.

Anyway, our school used to give students a couple of days before exams to study. And the year I was in the 10th grade, both my brother and sister were also home "studying" with  me.

Of course, we didn't just study. We spent a fair amount of time goofing off.

I forget what exactly happened. I think Winston and Anne-E were fooling around in her room. She was on the floor and Winston was bouncing something on the ground which hit her in the face. Nothing serious, but she was hurt and angry. Being the busybody older sibling that I was, I had to get in there and start telling people off.  I might have been the one to yell at Winston, or it might have been Anne-E. Whichever one, Winston was upset, and he dashed off into the bathroom that connected Anne-E's room to Jamie's. 

Anne-E was just telling me what happened when we heard a crash. My sister and I locked eyes shook our heads. "NOW what did you do?" we called out.  There was no answer, so we peeked our heads in.

The bathroom was covered in blood. The mirror was not broken. Winston had dashed across into Jamie's room, and in his frustration had punched the gumball machine.

Now, I don't know what guys punch things. Personally, I get frustrated and then scream and yell and screech until I cry, and then I eat a lot of chocolate. It works for me. But some guys just need to punch innocent objects, and this time it was the gumball machine, which had fought back.

The story goes on. We were alone in the house, and didn't know how to deal with a serious cut. In a panic, I called my best friend Larissa, and asked to speak with her mother, who came to our rescue and whisked Winston away to the hospital where they refused to give him stitches anyway because he needed a parent to consent.

Flash Forward.

For christmas this year, the boys got a gumball machine. I think Jamie gave it to them, but I could be wrong. So far, the boys have done nothing violent to the machine. They pour quarters into it and get sticky gumballs in return. But I can't help but remember when Jamie was the one with the coins and the gum. 

Forgetful or insane

My forgetfulness is starting to concern me.

I keep forgetting my parents phone number.

Now, I know people program numbers into cell phones and so never get to know the info. But I am not one of those people. I mean, yes I have a cell phone, and numbers are in there, but I usually use my land line. I actually dial that number once or twice a week for most of the months of the year. In fact, I dialed that number in the morning with no issues, but that afternoon I was convinced it was something else. I checked the emergency phone list I keep by the phone for the pet-care folks. But the number I had there was the number I had been dialing. Meaning the wrong one.

And this is not the first time that it has happened. If I have to ask Jamie what our parent's phone number is one more time, He might have me committed. Or I might die of embarrassment.

Does everyone have these concerns about themselves? Does everyone start to wonder, at some point, if being forgetful or absurdly absent minded is normal, or the signs of some more serious brain disorder?

Running Again

I am running again.

I feel great.

I'm not talking about my ankle, which feels fine. Sometimes I think it might be hurting me, but I have determined I'm ghosting it. I'm thinking about it and making it up. Because during the day it doesn't hurt, and there has been no swelling at all.

I'm taking it easy. Very easy, when I think about what I used to do. Just 20 minutes, hardly any incline, and not too fast. I plan on increasing it very, very slowly. I plan on not wearing shoes at all in my own house, and being very careful about when I choose to wear anything with heels at all.  I make it a  point to stretch before I run. I promise to try and do yoga at least once a week, so I havent given it up completely!

What feels great is me. I am happier and more energetic when I run. I am more confident. I sleep better.

Volume and Passive Agressiveness

One of the things that drives me crazy about this technology age we're living in is the volume.

Yes, people talking on the phone is annoying. When I'm sitting in this quiet coffee shop and suddenly the guy at the next table starts having a conversation into his headset, speaking as though he were addressing someone sitting across a board room table (not quietly) I find it horribly rude. It's disruptive. Even if someone were sitting at his table, latte in hand, they would be using regular, non shouting voices.

But that's not the worst of it.

Because even though the world is full of cell-phone loud-mouth yappers, I live in a world populated mostly by children. Mostly by boys. And boys play video games.

Video games, in case you didn't know, make noise. They make noise when they shoot, or walk or bump into walls. There is sound effects, background theme music, and general beeping.  And no one likes to listen to this stuff unless they are the ones playing.

We always make our kids turn the volume off. Not DOWN, mind you, but OFF. All the way. In the car, in the coffee shop, and even at home. They are welcome to go elsewhere if they wish, like to a bedroom or a playroom. For Christmas, Santa left each of them a pair of children's headphones, the "old fashioned" kind that sit outside the ear instead of in it. They can use those.

Our kids, however, are not the problem.

Right now I am sitting in the coffee shop. I am on the computer. Another parent is at another table at a computer. And someone I think is a grandfather is at another table with his nook. He has two children with him playing a game on an iPad. With the volume all the way up. It is so irritating.

Every once and awhile, after a particularly loud "Bling" the other computer parent will look up and look at the kids before turning back to his work. I have looked up at them several times. The grandfather hasn't moved his eyes from his electronic page. I wonder if he's deaf?

I have found myself here with Andy, and made a point of saying, rather loudly "Andy, make sure the volume is off, no one wants to hear your game." Either they didn't pick up on my rather obvious hint, or they think a little computer game noise blends well in the coffee shop atmosphere.

I just don't want to actually SAY anything. That might, you know, be uncomfortable.

The 4 tenets of leading a productive life

I don’t like to get religious here. This is not a religious blog. Not only do I not intend to challenge anyone’s faith, but I do not wish to defend my own. Not here. 

But when my minister gave this particular sermon in our church a few weeks ago, I just knew I had to share it.  I found this talk to be meaningful, and it has absolutely nothing at all to do with God or even religion, unless you consider daily practice or life philosophy to be religious, as some of us do.

It was about the 4 tenets of leading a productive life.  

A tenet is, according to Merriam-Webster: A principle or belief, esp. one of the main principles of a religion or philosophy. 

Our minister did not come up with these four tenets. In fact, over 20 years ago he was in Boston for a Red Sox game, and decided he was there he thought he would “visit two sacred spots in one trip” so to speak (haha, Yankees fans!)  and stopped by one of the churches in his faith as well. He forgot the name of the minister who spoke. He even forgot the score of the ball game. But he remembered those four tenets.

They made an impression on me, too. So I thought I'd share. You can apply them (or not) however you'd like. 

1 – Show Up.

2 – Tell The Truth.

3 - Do What You Do With Intensity.

4 - Don't Worry Too Much About The Outcome.

No Bite

Two of my kids are nail biters.

That would be Nick and Andy. They both bite their nails down to the quick, and then they nibble on their cuticles. The skin around their nail beds becomes red and inflamed. Sometimes they bleed. It drives me crazy.

It mostly drives me crazy because I can't even put cream on their fingers. It stings and hurts them. But they still manage to bite their nails.

So I went to CVS in search of a magic potion. Something to keep little fingers out of mouths. I was actually looking for something called No Bite, but apparently they don't sell that in stores, only online.  So I settled for something called Bite It (with a red line through it) instead.

I painted Nick's nails with it. I painted Andy's nails with it, and he whimpered a little because it stung his sore fingers. But I reasoned that it might be worth it if I could get him to stop biting his nails.

And, almost as an afterthought, I painted my own nails. I no longer bite my nails off completely, but I nibble. I'm a nibbler.

Let me tell you, that stuff is horrible. It tastes so bad I can't stand it. There is no mindless nibbling any more.

I am also surprised at how often I eat or taste things with my fingers. I can no longer lick my fingers. I won't taste pancake batter, I'll taste the nail stuff. It's terrible. On the bright side, my fingernails haven't been this long in years.

Nick's fingernails have also gotten long enough for me to actually cut.

But Andy seems to be immune. I paint his little nails and he bites them anyway.  What does one do?

Behind The Scenes

I didn't change the template to this blog.

What this means is, when you look at this blog, when you bring it up on your screen, it looks the same as before. I mean, I changed it after New Year's, but since then it's been the same.

I think.

See, one morning I logged into Blogger and saw this little tab that said something like "Get our new interface!"

The way these things work is that, at first, they give you a choice. "They" are the people behind the scenes, the people in charge of Blogger, Facebook, Google, Yahoo, whatever. "They" are the ones that make the changes. After a few weeks, when enough people have made the change of their own free will, "They" go ahead and make the change mandatory. Like it or not, all users will be switched over to the new Facebook. Or Blogger. Or whatever.

So this time I just went ahead and upgraded on my own. That way I could pretend to be the one in control.

The trouble is, now when I compose a post, everything looks different. The font is different. The photos go up differently. I have to snoop around to find what it is I'm looking for, and I have no idea what the final post will look like.

So if things have been looking a little odd lately, please just stick with me.

Fashion Statement

I let my kids dress themselves. Sometimes I put my foot down and make them change. I have standards. I don't let them wear pants with holes in the knees to school or to church. No sweatpants to church, either. When we travel I pack their clothes. And sometimes when we go someplace with many kids, like a zoo or an amusement park, I insist on coordinating outfits to make them easier to spot in a crowd. (all three wear bright red T-shirts, etc.) 

My mother purchased these pants for Christmas. A family friend calls the "Jackass Pants." If you ask me, if anyone calls pants "jackass pants" then you might want to avoid wearing them. 

Now, I'm not the kind of person that thinks pants make someone a jackass. I respect different tastes. But these pants... they are tough to find something to wear with them.  And Nick has no sense of... matching.  He's kind of like me that way.  Note the hat and the boots.

St. Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day means Projects. School projects. It means digging up shoe boxes and the red and white paints. It means searching for the right heart stickers and the right design for the cards you give your school friends. It means writing your name twenty times. It means searching the stores for heart shaped boxes of chocolate they put out the day after Christmas, but that seems to all but have disappeared five days before the actual holiday in favor of chocolate eggs. It means buying all the white and red icing for the sugar cookies you have to bring to the Kindergarten party, and going to three different supermarkets to find the right brand of strawberry ice cream requested for the allergy-prone first grade class.

But mostly it's just telling people you love them.