Destination Destin (Part Four)

We arrived about two hours later than we had planned due to traffic, stops, etc. The on-site “owner’s representative” was expecting us closer to 3 or 4. I called her when we got there and she was rather crabby saying she got tired of waiting and went on to do some errands. Oh, really—tired of waiting?!? Lady, I just rode in a car for 8 hours with three children ages seven and under. Whatever. She said she would stop by the next day to pick up the check.

We went to the store and loaded up on food. One reason when we travel renting a house is the best option for us is the kitchen. Our kids never eat a restaurants and it is almost always a guaranteed way to flush $50 down the drain. We need a kitchen to be able to cook—it ensures everyone actually eats and saves us a ton of money, and stress. Did I mention how terrible our kids are in restaurants? No doubt the result of never taking them to restaurants, so the blame is on us. At any rate, we went to the store and vacation freedom was in full force—they could get whatever they wanted, but even with that, I was so pleased with their choices. Phillip brought several things to me and asked for help reading the label and on a few, once I read it, he put it back—even though he had the freedom to get it. Back to the house to put the groceries up, unpack, eat dinner (which consisted of everyone's favorite item they just bought at the grocery store--lots of cereal for dinner that night) and get to bed.

The days that followed were relatively calm. The weather was cool and very windy. But, the sun was out in full force almost every day. The cool temperatures didn’t really bother me, I was just glad to see the sun. After four-plus months of no more than a few hours of sunshine, it does the soul good to see blue skies day after day after day. Ideally it would have been warmer so we could enjoy the beach more, sit on the porch in the evenings, etc. But, it was too chilly. In fact, each morning we would turn the heat on in the house because it had gotten so cold over night; it was dropping to the high 30s low 40s each night.

There was a beautiful pool and hot tub in the complex where we spent most of our time in the sun. The kids played and we relaxed, reading magazines. Andrew spent the first few days watching from the sidelines, but by the last day was being so brave in the water he was making me nervous. There were other kids there and they made friends, playing for hours on end with the toys I brought for the pool or beach, but figured mostly pool.

We went to the beach several times, but often it was too cold or windy to really enjoy it. The kids did still get in the ocean some, but it was freezing and even they shied away from it (except a few brave attempts). But, we did build sand castles, play football, take walks, put our feet in the sand and relax. Phillip loves the ocean, always has. Sam I think, despite how brave and fearless he is, senses the enormity of it and approaches it with a bit of caution. The last day, we were able to spend a good several hours at the beach in the sun—and were warm enough to just be in our bathing suites.

Our first full day there--Easter Sunday--we stopped by the beach in the morning. The gulf was calm, water was clear and the beach was empty. It was cool, but the boys couldn't resist playing in the sand and water.

The mornings were naturally the coldest part of the day, we would usually have a very slow start to the day, lounging around home. Then, we would do something other than the beach/pool, saving that for the warmer part of the day. We really couldn’t handle much more than a few hours of total sun exposure a day, so it worked out nice. No matter how much sunscreen I put on Phillip and what level, he still gets too much sun. I applied 40 three times in a period of about five hours and he still got burned. I moved to the 50 for the kids and it seemed to do the trick. Phillip has Jeff’s skin tones and Sam definitely has mine—Andrew is somewhere in between.





Every day we went to the beach, the flag warnings were the same. Purple was for sea life alert. There were many dead jellyfish washed up on the shore to prove the warning was necessary.





Andrew played delivery man for hours. He would load the wagon with all the beach toys and then take a little walk on the beach. He would return by announcing, "Delivery man" and ask what each of us needed. I might say a blue shovel, he would hand it to me and move on to the next person. Then, come and collect what he delivered and start all over again.

I dug a big hole in the sand and the boys jumped in. While standing, we burried their legs and then they would pop out. I used to LOVE being burried in the sand when I was little.

Sam was practicing writing his name in teh sand over and over--S-A-M he would tell me and then we would watch it wash away.

Destination: Destin (Part 3)

I have a little morning ritual, which I think I have now realized I inherited from my mother, where I have to drink my coffee alone in the morning, at least the first few cups. At home, I work or read blogs in the still of the early morning or sometimes on the weekends, I indulge in morning news shows. When we travel, I get up before everyone else and head down to the lobby to find some coffee and relax reading the local paper or magazines until everyone else is up. So, in Nashville, I headed down to the restaurant in the morning and read some magazines and drank coffee. Everyone else joined me later for breakfast.

As a side note, vacations for our family represent a period of extreme freedom. We loosen up on what the kids can eat, when they can eat it, where they can eat it, what they can watch on television (usually only PBS Kids and Disney are allowed in our house, but vacation means Cartoon Network and the beloved Nickelodeon), when they go to bed, we tend to buy them more stuff—it is just usually a general “yes-fest.” Sort of like how we do birthday days at our house.

So they selected cinnamon rolls and sugared cereal from the breakfast buffet. After breakfast, we went back to our room to pack up and hit the road again. The excitement was obvious--it was going to be a long car ride for sure.

We decided to visit a great toy store just down the road before heading the rest of the way to Destin. I got them some more surprises for the car and Andrew and Phillip picked out these big guns they wanted, like old wooden shot guns. Again, vacation in our family is about stepping outside the rules and having fun—they got the guns, which never would have flown at home. Sam picked two stuffed animals because the 3,449 other ones he has just are not enough.

We hit the road around 9:30AM. Traffic continued to be bad—the whole way. We drove and drove and drove. We stopped for lunch in Montgomery, Alabama. Once we were on the other side of Montgomery, we got on 331—a back roads state highway. Wow. Now there was a look at life I have never really seen, except for maybe driving the hills of Tennessee.

We listened to Radio Disney, watched movies (oh, and the wireless headphones were not working, so we all got to listen to the movies), talked, Sam and Andy fought and Phillip pretty much kept his head down and played his GameBoy the whole time. Pretty much every five minutes, Andrew would ask when are we getting to Florida—even when we were in Florida. Oh, and the pee stops---geeze, the pee stops.

After Montgomery, Alabaman, we left the big highway and hit a smaller state highway that was most of the time two lanes (331). It cut right through the "back country" and provided interesting sites as we drove. Literally shantys and mobile homes so dilapidated I would start to think about the stories of the place--what happened there, why did they leave, where did they go--and then, half of the time, all of the sudden I would realize there were people still living there. Life had clearly passed most of these small towns by.

In one of those small towns with nothing but empty store fronts in its once glorious downtown, we got stopped in a small town in Alabama. Being pulled over with Jeff in the car is interesting. "Put your hazards on," I said. "No, you don't put your hazards on," he said. "Yes you do," I said. "No, you don't," he said. Fine. Whatever. "Just don't say anything," he said. The police officer walked up to the car and asked a few questions. I so wanted to talk. I could hear in Jeff's voice he was slightly nervous. He knew this would be a big ticket if we got one.

They chatted back and forth for a few minutes. The guy was like 100 and giving Jeff a mini-lecture. All of the sudden, I realize his badge says Chief. "Your the CHIEF of police? We got pulled over by the Chief?," I asked. "Yes ma'am," was his response. "Wow," I said, "That's kinda neat."

Within a second, I knew Jeff didn't appreciate my editorial comment. Finally, the lecture was over and he let us go. He was kind enough to extend a professional courtesy and not give Jeff a ticket. I put a tally mark on my mental Jeff's Got Pulled Over sheet (he needed some, as I had pulled ahead with a strong lead after construction on I-70 last year). Finally, we got to the Florida house.

The kids piled out of the van and the second part of the adventure began. There was a great extra lot next to the house (awaiting at least another two houses) with sand instead of dirt. The boys immediately ran there and started playing. We explored the house in amazement. (Andy showing off his gun that he picked out at the toy store. Sigh. Certainly there are worse things in life than boys who like guns, right?

Now, I must say that we had seen the pictures of the house on the internet and knew it looked nice, plus it is pretty new, so we have fairly high expectations, but…our neighbor who owns it is a man of great means but even greater modesty, a bit of a saver if you will. We thought there would be limits to the interior.

But, we were wrong. The house was amazing—huge and everything inside was beautiful. Great appliances, televisions, huge bathrooms, lots of natural light, it was fabulous. There were two full bed and baths we didn’t even use. It was more than enough space in a beautiful neighborhood with an incredible view.

Destination: Destin Part 2

We have never been to Destin, but it is a popular spot with Hoosiers, I think mostly because it is a 12-hour straight shot. Our neighbors and friends own a house there and are crazy about the place. And, so are several other people I know. So, we booked the house and planned to spend our first week on spring break with kids.

Because I don’t like traveling, I tried not to think about the trip until it was inevitable. The week before, I started my ritual list making routine and making piles of things to pack. I made runs to Target, my favorite local toy store and Costco for DVDs. I got in the attic to get out shorts and t-shirts—only to find we really had none.

I think I remember last year when I packed up the summer clothes getting rid of most of them thinking I wanted new ones for the boys. I was so sick of the things Phillip wore and passing them down to Sam and then Andrew. They were dingy and dirty, stained and just tired looking. So when I went to pack, they had nothing but a few pairs of shorts and some t-shirts, all of which I cannot figure out why I kept—they are horrible! So, I also made about three runs to Gap to outfit the boys with summer clothes (check out one of Sam's picks). I got new beach and pool toys and kept them hidden in anticipation of the trip. I made up travel back packs for each child with activities. Jeff cleaned the van out, got the house ready in anticipation of us being away and was in charge of the bikes.

I told some clients I would be away and others I just sort of told I was unavailable for meetings and still others, I said nothing to about it. I don’t know why, but I hate saying I am going on vacation and truthfully, the expectation from most of our clients is that we don’t go on vacation (only they do). I packed up the work I needed to take, my laptop, phone charger and tons and tons of magazines and catalogs I had been saving to read on the beach.

We were scheduled to leave on Saturday, March 22, but really we didn’t have anything going on Friday night so we thought we might as well leave Friday late afternoon. I got on Priceline and got a great hotel room in Nashville very cheap. Usually, I don’t like Priceline (another control issue ahead) because I am so particular about the hotels I stay at, I want to be able to be sure it is the right hotel and they don’t tell you what it is until after they accept your offer. But, based on the description, I knew which hotel it was and I have seen that hotel and knew it was nice (the Marriott near Vanderbilt). I love that area of Nashville and trusted the site—this once.

Jeff got off work at 2 and I had a morning meeting or two, but then was pretty much done. We packed up and headed out shortly after 3PM. Traffic was bad, which it usually is in our area until about 50 miles outside of Indianapolis. But, it never really thinned out much and then, in Seymour (really, not the most exciting place to be stuck), it came to a dead stop on the highway. We had been in the car for literally a little over an hour and the kids were already complaining they were hungry. We had planned on stopping for dinner later on or even when we got to Nashville as the area we were staying has lots of great little restaurants but the traffic was at a total standstill—it was a parking lot, so we got off in Seymour.

We ate at Cracker Barrel and the kids each got a new Webkinz (which brought the Cracker Barrel experience to around $75, there is just something wrong with that). We ask the locals for a short cut to avoid the interstate and headed off again. The rest of the world took the short cut too, so it was another hour or so to get back on the highway. While we were in that traffic, we saw the medivac helicopter come in and land—good thing we got off the highway, it wasn’t good. Back on the road, headed for Nashville.

We rolled in at about 7:30PM. The room was great, but we only had one—which meant two double beds and only one television. Jeff and Phillip ran out to get us all some ice cream and I got the other boys ready for bed. We all ate ice cream in bed and eventually the boys fell asleep. I probably permanently scarred them because I was dying to watch the 20/20 special about prostitution—again, that one television thing was a problem. Really I don’t feel I should have to watch Hannah Montana after 8PM, 9PM at the latest. Tomorrow, we drive the rest of the way to the Florida panhandle. We are driving through Alabama and I am excited! I have never been to Alabama...I have big expectations.

Destination: Destin (Part I)

The last time we traveled during a spring break was 11 years ago on our honeymoon. We were both in college (on the 10-year plan) when we got married and planned our honeymoon around our spring break. But, we did it this year—we were spring breakers.

When we got Phillip’s school calendar this year, Jeff said he wanted to go away for spring break, he wanted to go some place warm and get away. If you know me, you know I am not a good traveler. This was not always the case. In fact, I blame the nomadic nature of my childhood on my distaste for travel as an adult. We were always traveling when I was growing up.

Now, I see how fortunate I was and am grateful for my parents dragging us here, there and everywhere. And, I want my kids to have that experience too. But for now, I think they are too young to really get anything meaningful out of such trips and it stresses me out too much to even think about making one on the scale we used to make.

We always went to visit my grandparents who wintered in Naples. We went skiing once a year—first in Michigan and later in Colorado. We went to the Caribbean several times. We went to California, more trips to Colorado, New York City, I went to England, Arizona, Texas, Louisiana, and usually Michigan in the summer to escape the Indiana heat and humidity. We went to Chicago at least three times, maybe four or five times a year. We were always going by plane, train and automobile; but mostly by plane.

Now, I hate planes. I all but refuse to fly. I haven’t been on an airplane since Phillip was one and I cannot see myself getting on one anytime soon, at least not without being medicated. My growing fear of flying is multi-dimensional and based on a mix of fact and fiction—and I fully admit the fiction part is completely irrational, but none the less—it’s there.

So, for now, when we travel, we drive. And, truly with three little kids, I think it is the easiest way for us to travel right now. I need to have that level of control provided by driving. I need to be able to take what I want to take and stop when we want or need to stop. We need a car where ever we go that can hold three car seats (oh, and our stuff). And so it goes. We set out for spring break last week—destination: Destin, Florida.

11 Years and Still Love'em

Yesterday was our 11th wedding anniversary. And, this year our anniversary was even on a Saturday--just like when we got married. I still love that guy. I of course had no idea where life would take us and it has taken us much further than I could have ever imagined. I love the surprises around each corner, never really being able to even dream of where we are headed. I love the kids we made and the memories we share. He still, most importantly, can make me laugh when I need it most. He reminds me how silly my anxieties really are and reassures me when I lack confidence.

I used to love go watch his hockey games. He looked so cute in his uniform, all sweaty and strong. He still plays even after all these years. He complains about the young guys playing too rough and I remember when he complained about the old guys being babies. Times have changed, but he still looks so cute playing hockey.

And, we made a mini-him who is a great hockey player too. Today was Samuel's last day of the season and we are so proud of him. The second his skates hit the ice, he goes and goes and goes and never stops until its over. He never gives up, he always wants more. He is a natural athlete (see more pictures in the web album).

That is something I have never been--an athlete. I try to explain that in tennis, although it always sounds like I am making excuses. I have never played (for more than a few minutes or beyond a family game in the yard) ball sports. I always wanted to be good at sports--agile and brave, strong and conditioned. It's not me and fortunately my parents never made me feel bad for it.

As different as they all are, we will help each of our kids find something they care enough about to try and try again until they get it right. We will help them all find something that inspires and engages, something that makes them strong in mind, body and spirit. They will be athletes of one kind or another and we will celebrate every step along the way.

My Hero

Yes, it is a new entry. No smart comments please and I am not going to make any false promises I cannot keep. Sort of like the time I quit smoking when I was in my early 20s. I kept a package of cigarettes in my freezer for probably five year--just in case. I never swore it off, I never said I was quitting because I feared I couldn't keep the promise. I think now I can admit I quit, with pride.

Anyway...back to life today.

Now, he isn't only a hero at work...he is also a Guitar Hero...



















Two weekends ago, he stood in line for us for over an hour (despite the fact he swore he never would) so we could finally get a Wii. We love it, it is so much fun. I made a New Year's resolution to boycott China and we have been trying hard not to buy anything from China (we have done amazingly well--even found Nike shoes not made in China!). But, the Wii was a huge exception.

So everyone in the family has a favorite Wii game. Samuel and Phillip played Lego Star Wars for over an hour together the other day--laughing and really having fun together (rare these days as they are sort of in two totally different places in their lives right now, Sam more buddies around with Andrew). I love tennis and Avatar with Phillip. Samuel loves bowling.

For Jeff, it's Guitar Hero III. The other night after the kids had gone to bed, I was watching tv in the other room and he was working on Slow Ride. He took a break and popped his head in where I was watching tv, he was sweating! So funny, but glad he found something he enjoys, it is always nice to find a diversion for everyday life that you enjoy.

I Really Got it Right

**Warning: Comments do not match up with pictures and I give up. Blogger has a mind of its own tonight with pictures. It's late and I am tired of messing with it. You can get the idea***

This year, I really got a few gifts right. Jeff with the ipod. His old one died, a sad and unusual misfortune (hint: never buy an ipod anywhere but at an Apple store). And the Mountain Bike magazine subscription.

Andrew with his skateboard that he asked Santa for...

...or maybe not. How about Andrew with his crane.

Or Phillip's gift to Andrew--a copy of Monster's Inc. to replace the one he lost after he watched it 947 times and the hug that followed.

And Sam with the rolls and rolls of tape. I know it sounds like an odd gift, but I saw it at my favorite toy store and couldn't resist. It had him written all over it. He was so excited when he opened it and he looked at me as if we both knew just what he would do with it. About 12 tiny cartridges of tape with different patterns (spider web, aliens, skull and crossbones, caution, all different colors and more). I did know what he would do with it, even when I bought it I knew.

But, it's rolls of tape...its existence is finite. Here is what I found when I wondered upstairs tonight.

...on the linen closet

...the boys' bathroom door

...Phillip's bedroom door and on Phillip's wall

...around Phillip's desk chair

...on Sam's door (doesn't seem like enough caution warning for his room)

...on Sam's headboard

...on Sam's wall (that sort of looks like the beginning of some pretty offensive graffiti, doesn't it?)

...on Sam's other wall

...and on Sam's other wall

Exactly what I thought it would look like with the tape in hand...only not as bad as I had pictured. What is not photographed is the large, bigger than a softball, ball of tape that I found in his trash can. I love that guy.

Better than Prom

There are two things I always wanted to do when I was a kid and my dad would always say no. 1) Carriage rides. 2) Rent a limo. We have taken the kids on a few carriage rides and, Dad, I was right--it is fun, dammit. The limo thing, I don't know why, but kids always want limos.

I remember my friends and I would save up money and pool it together to get a limo for a few hours. It used to be $100 per hour (way back when). Competition is a good thing and there are many more providers in the area than there used to be--now it is only like $60 per hour. But, we always needed a grown up to make the actual reservation. That never came from my house-my dad always hated the idea.

Lately, Phillip has been dying to ride in a limo. Every time we see one, he goes crazy and points out the window. He doesn't think there is someone special inside (like we used to), but it's the car itself he is fascinated with. So, we planned a big surprise for the holiday.

We rented a limo and it picked us up at 4PM. The kids new NOTHING about it, we didn't even tell them we had a surprise planned. It appeared in the driveway. They were confused, but calm. We all piled in. "Where are we going, what are we doing, did you know about this?" The questions started to pour out of all three.

"It's a surprise. We planned it for you." Then, I offered them all a Shirley Temple (a treat usually reserved for cocktail hour when we are at a hotel). I mixed them up in champagne flutes and passed them out. They were riding in style and loving it!

Our first stop was the State Museum to ride the train and see Santa (for the second time). Next stop, dinner at their restaurant of choice. They chose Friday's. By then the grenadine in the Shirley Temple's had kicked in and everyone was very squirly, so dinner was a bit rocky. I think all three of them, at one point or another, were on the floor under the table.

It got dark as we were eating and we left Friday's to head to the Zoo for Christmas at the Zoo (like a gazillion lights). We walked all around the zoo, rode the train and then headed back to the limo. More Shirley Temple's. We headed home but took the long way to look at some lights, including driving around the circle a few times.

They loved it! And, I must say, it was super nice to go all those places without parking, dragging everyone out of the car, coats, hats, etc. Instead, we just left a lot of that in the car, he would pull up curbside and drop us off. When we were done, just hop right back in!

They all kept saying this was the best night ever. Phillip, on the ride home, told me this was a great present. I was glad that he got it that this was a gift for him, not an expectation, but a gift. It may be a new holiday family tradition--we all had a great time.

New Photos Added!

I have added a ton of new photos in the web album and I added the pictures of the tree below. Check 'em out!

The Perfect Christmas Tree

...doesn't live here. Our tree is a masterpiece clearly constructed by the hands of children. The ornaments hang in large clusters on branches near the bottom. Candy canes hang half-eaten and still in their wrappers. The lights, once tucked neatly into the body of the tree, now droop and hang.

It is a real tree, and always will be. We are real tree people. When I was growing up, my dad did some work for a tree farmer. Which, meant a trade. We not only continued our tradition of real trees, but we ramped it up to trees still in the burlap ball, which were eventually planted in our yard. Oh, the memories of that annual disaster. We have done that around here a few times, but for now are just sticking with the sawed off Douglass from Lowe's in an effort to simplify our traditions while the boys are so young.

Our ornaments remind me of our house before we got our own stuff. Our ornaments are a collection of hand-me-downs, freebies and a few simple ones we bought together here and there. Some from my childhood, some we have received as gifts over the year, some we bought together in the early years of our marriage. Sounds just like all of our old furniture before we moved to our grown-up house and got all new.

When I was growing up, I used to love to open the box and see all of my favorite ornaments. The glittery ice cream cones, the salt-dough Santa my aunt made, the puffy plastic (and now, clearly very creepy) boy and girl dolls, the ones I made all on my own and other colorful ones. Then, one year my mom announced she would be getting all new Christmas tree decorations.

It was the eighties, so she decked the tree out in peach and light green to match the decor of the very hip living room in which it always resided. Custom cut ribbons, frosty glass balls in peach, strands of greenish pearls, methodical placement of each piece. It looked beautiful, but certainly wasn't the tree of my childhood.

I get it now. My mom, no doubt, conceded to the crazy tree for all those years, knowing that one day, she could take it back and make it the way she wanted it. Me too. I know the tree is cute and kid-like, and I live in a house full of kids--but really, I long for a sophisticated, well planned and organized tree with a gazillion lights. Knowing my day will come--I will have 20+ years to decorate a tree with no kids (and I will no doubt be wishing our kids were here)--I let it go and enjoy the lopsided, lumpy, almost falling over, ornaments in a pile underneath or hanging in clusters on a few branches of a tree.

They stand back and admire, proud of their work. I am happy they care. The prefect tree doesn't live here--and I am okay with it. At least, for now.

Man Cold

It has already been a difficult year in our house with colds. Andrew is on like number five. Last week, it was Jeff's turn. Watch this to see what might be in store for you this winter if your husband gets a cold...



But, I must say, my husband is nothing like that when he is sick. He is strong, brave and doesn't whine. I am lucky and in love.

Email Pet Peeves

Whether in email or a text message, for some reason every time I read HAHAHA, I think people are being smart, like saying, "haha very funny you asshole." LOL does not offend me, I get that but the HAHAHA I don't get.

I don't mind :), :0, : or :> but it does drive me crazy when people write Smiles!

I hate it when people write emails or texts in all caps. My husband's texts come across in all texts and it bothers me. At first, I thought he intentionally does that and I kept thinking, what is the point--is he trying to yell (as they always say all caps are in email)? Then I realized he doesn't have a Blackberry and his phone must just do it.

Ah, his phone. He had to have this damn Razor. He got it. He hates it. It really does suck. I swear it is possessed. It goes into roaming when he is standing in our kitchen or screams he has voicemail like six hours after I call (even mine does that sometimes). It freezes and he has to totally take the battery out just to get it to work again. He took it to Sprint to complain. They fidgeted, tested, massaged. The verdict--nothing wrong with it.

Anyway, where was I going with this random post about email. I also hate it when people have like size 24 font in their emails or the letters are in colors or wonky fonts. I hate business emails without signature lines and I hate personal (and business) emails with 16 line mantras after the signature line, things like, "laugh because laughing is the best medicine for making the world a brighter better place." Vomit.

I hate it when people forward with the full message buried 14 emails in. I hate it when people reply without the original message attached (I have talked about that one before). I hate it when people don't reply when they receive something from me via email--like a simple, "Thanks" or "Got it" would do just fine.

I also hate it when email from people that I have approved, verified, welcomed and corresponded with a million times ends up in my spam folder. My spam folder is only delivered once a day, so if an important message is in there, I don't know it until the next morning. But, I do like my spam filter. I haven't had a penis enlargement email in my inbox ever since my web guy hooked me up.

Finally, I hate it when you are on a mass distribution list and some idiot hits reply to all with their response. Wow, full of a lot of hate about email today. Back to cleaning out my inbox. What are your email pet peeves?

Annual Maintenance

Tis the season for my annual maintenance. I start this week with my annual trip to the dermatologist for my annual exam. Melanoma runs in my family, so an annual exam is necessary. If you have never had an annual exam by a dermatologist, it is one of the most invasive exams ever. There isn't a square inch of your body that they don't examine--up close and personal.

Last week, the annual eye exam and the annual gyno exam. Eyes, no problems. In fact, my vision is always fine. The reason for the visits is again, the melanoma. You can develop melanoma in the back of your eyes-did you know that? I didn't until the dermatologist made me start going to the eye doctor every year. So, every year, we look at pictures of my eye balls (which, eye balls totally gross me out) and make sure there is nothing there.

The gyno, first let me just say I love this woman. She has delivered each of my three children and I have been going to her since I was 15. She is a character straight out of a movie. But, she always seems to know just what I need, especially in labor. Her relaxed and natural approach to all things human has always been a good fit for me. She had a firm voice when I always needed it and a gentle concern when I was scared.

But, the annual exam is always brutal. I knew it was coming-my weight. I have gained and she was certainly going to comment on it. She did. The conversation started with a review for me (as if I didn't know) of my weights for the past three years. I cannot believe what I weighed three years ago. "Tennis just isn't that great of exercise" she said. "Especially if you play doubles." I play doubles I said, but I said I play at a decent level at least four times a week and most often do drill-and-plays for 1.5 hours, it's a fair amount of cardio I said. "No, it just isn't a very good form of exercise."

Okay, first there is no way I am giving up my tennis. Second, it is so much better than no exercise at all and third, I can thank that not good form of exercise for my lovely leg muscles that I am quite happy with. But, okay--point taken I have gained weight. She notes I am still well within healthy ranges, but for me it represents quite a gain. Well, I reminder her, this is the longest I have gone without being pregnant or breastfeeding in eight years--a lot has changed about my body over the past year and I think that, and turning 35, have a lot to do with it.

Yes, probably she agrees. But still, you are on the upswing, let's stop that trend. I again chime in with the fact that I got to that disgustingly low weight after the birth of my third by starving myself, and I mean starving myself. I never ate. I just wanted to be skinny, so I would starve myself. My weight was so low that there was no way I could healthily maintain it. So, I slowly started to gain. Okay, she said, glad you are eating, but watch what and how much you eat.

Well, I try, but since I am so active (with that tennis that is a bad form of exercise), I seem to get very hungry some times. I eat incredibly healthy. But, sometimes I make the wrong choices, which for me pretty much focus around chocolate, bake goods or pasta. No fast food, really rarely even any restaurants.

I now weight the same I did in high school and college. I hate how much I weigh, but I am still within normal ranges and my BMI is still healthy. I couldn't believe I was rationalizing my weight with her. I am now feeling worse about it than ever. All I can think is that she must not realize how sensitive to it I am, how much the numbers on the scale bother me. And, they bother me a lot.

I am trying to reverse the trend, I am trying to get noticeably skinny again, but life is demanding and it is hard. That is not a reason not to succeed, but sometimes things interrupt my quest and remind me there are more important things in life than being super skinny (although I think I only believe that about half the time).

For me, preparing and sharing a great meal with people we love (friends, family, etc.) is worth it. I love that feeling. I hate the way my pants feel the next day, but I love the feeling of fellowship over a meal. That is my constant struggle. On again off again. A mad, mad love affair with food and a deep desire to be skinny. I am manic about my weight. In our casual once a year office visit, I am sure she doesn't realize how obsessed with this issue I am.

I will always struggle with, one of my deep insecurities, perhaps my number one secret--my weight. Someone who is otherwise very confident is stuck viewing themselves as living in a body that is fat. I do need to lose weight and I will--I can, but I think she should be telling me if my BMI is fine and my weight is well within healthy, that she is glad I am not still starving myself all the time.

More Secrets

First, thanks to a comment from someone I realized I left the Hills off my list of favorite reality shows. Really, I meant to say The Hills and instead put The O.C.--which is where it all started for L.C. and her crew. I love that show and all the dirty scoop that comes with it. Okay, now on to more secrets.

2) I have a tattoo. It's tiny and done poorly, but I will never forget when I got it. I was 18 and home from college for Christmas break. My best friend and I were both feeling rebellious. My parents had just informed me they would be getting a divorce and I decided to return to Philadelphia early--but before I left, Liz and I drove to the nasty side of town and got tattoos at Don's. I seriously cannot believe I didn't contract HIV or hepatitis from the experience. Now, I need to get some work done on it and have an idea, but being older and wiser, I am waiting for just the right person to do it--no more filthy tattoo parlors for me.

3) I stole a pair of earrings from Target. Yes, I was young, couldn't even drive. And, the same old story--a friend made me do it. I even remember we paid for some stuff, so it wasn't like we didn't have the money (but I guess stealing isn't always about not having the money). She loved it and got such a thrill from it. I remember being so scared and feeling rotten. I never stole again (although, I am pretty sure she did).

4) I have bad, unfounded and completely crazy generalized feelings about certain ethnic groups. Am I a racist, well in the Jerry Springer sense, I would say no, but I am sure there is someone out there who would want to prove me wrong. These are things that like you always here your grandparents say like, "Never trust a German" or "Europeans are ungrateful and pompous." Or things like, Chinese people shuffle their feet in their shoes (see? big generalization. I am sure not all Chinese people do that, but I think they do). But, they are my beliefs and most of them are stuck in my head.

5) I sometimes like it when people are jealous. Okay, this is a big deep secret. But, think about it. You work hard, you do your best, you invest in your house, your job, your family--whatever it is. Sometimes, when people are jealous, it feels kind of good--like affirmation, like yes, I have done good--good enough to make someone else wish they could do it that good too. I know, it's wrong, but we are talking secrets here, people.

6) Last one...I once saw something so awful, I have never told another person. I think about it often and keep thinking maybe one day I can say it out loud, but I have never been able to and deep down inside, it makes me feel horrible. Someone suffered because of it and I did nothing. When I think about it, I feel so sad and like I missed an opportunity to stand up and help someone, like I contributed to that person's misery. I wasn't brave enough, I was scared and I made the wrong choice. Maybe one day I will tell the secret and feel better. Maybe I will send it to PostSecret and feel a burden off of my shoulders, but I doubt it.

My Secrets

There are a few secrets (or even hints of secrets) that when I divulge, people gasp. "No way, never"...they say..."you never did that, you were never like that, you never thought that." But, they are true. I did do those things, had those thoughts and acted that way, I did. Not that I am some goody-two-shoes, but people that I have met later in my adult life cannot imagine what I was like in my early twenties. They don't believe the stories--but I promise they are true and one day, I hope you read about them in a book.



My big secrets today are too secret to really discuss in this blog. People I work with, people I live with read this thing. Family members, friends and friends of friends. I am not divulging the really deep ones here, the ones I would write on a postcard and mail to PostSecret. But what about some not so dangerous ones. Ones that are embarrassing or ridiculous or make me even stranger than you thought I was. Let's do this a little bit at a time.



Secret number one. I am a total TV junkie. I plan my evening around television shows; I have had a television in my room since I was five and need it on to be able to fall asleep (or I have to take something as the anxiety alone of no TV is enough to keep me up). I love reality television. I watch every show I can--you name it, I try to see it. Here is a list of some I won't pass up when flipping through the channels.

The O.C.
Run's House
Kimora Simmons-Life in the Fabulous Lane
Family Jewels
Survivor
Amazing Race
Project Runway
Top Chef
Kathy Griffin Life on the D List
Hell's Kitchen
Wife Swap
Nanny 911
Kitchen Nightmares (I think that is what it is called)
Real Housewives of Orange County
House Hunters
Trading Spouses
Dr. 90210
The Girls Next Door
Intervention
The Bachelor
Beauty & the Geek
Big Brother
The Apprentice

I watch them all for different reasons and with varying levels of interest, but I love reality television. People are so freaking weird and this lets you see that up close and personal. Even if they are acting, how weird is that...that someone would go on a reality show and act?!?! The whole thing is a study in the bizarre behavior of humans and I love it. More secrets next time.

Really, I Should Just Give Up

Don't you think? I mean, I just don't seem to be able to do it. I am going to try again, really I am. It just seems like it takes so much time, not the writing part--that comes easy, but the blogger part. The spell checker sucks, it takes time to upload pictures and then it seems like, for what? No one every comments and after more than 45 days without an update, my daily views are down to like nine. So, for you nine people who look, I am going to try again. Check in tomorrow for a fresh start.

Some Conditions Apply

We got a call the other day from some political campaign polling our opinions as voters. Well, I say we, but Jeff answered and he is the one who gave the opinion. I listened to his answers and from that alone, I was able to determine what the questions were.

I have so much trouble with these kinds of things. For me, life is not black or white, everything really deserves that "additional comments" box to qualify and explain answers. Things are complicated and complex. A simple yes or no seems impossible--no matter what the question.

"Right Direction," he said. Sigh. Right direction? Well, yes...sort of. I believe in this country, our leaders and our rights. But really, seems like at some point, things need to change with the war. I am not bashing Bush or those amazing heroes over there fighting for us. It is more of a Dr. Phil moment--how is the current situation working for us? Not to good. Maybe right direction, poor execution or wrong direction despite the excellent execution...not sure and this is a debate that much too large for my little mommy-blog. But, the point is I think it is way beyond choosing from three answers: right direction, wrong direction or don't know.

"Pro-Life," he said. Pro-Life, clearly they asked what is position was on abortion. Oh here is another whole-can-o-worms. Pro-Life? That is it? Not that I have a problem with his position or the fact that pro-life is his position, but more I am fascinated by the fact that he can answer--that quickly and that plainly. Pro-Life. What about all the what-ifs? What about the reality that is life for so many children in this country--hungry, ignored, abused. What about the woman--young, scared, maybe even raped. Nope, for me it isn't as simple as pro-life.

I am not sure there is an additional comments box big enough to help me really articulate my position on this one--I don't even think I fully understand my own position on it. I say I would never make that choice, but I haven't ever been in a position where I even needed to consider it. What if they told me the baby's life or mine? What if they could tell the baby had three hearts growing on the outside of its chest wall. What if, what if, what if.

I have been pregnant, am a mother and all I can say is I have enormous respect for the miracle and responsibility of making humans. God's grace is ever-present in the course of pregnancy, but the gift isn't for everyone. I don't have an answer and wouldn't be willing to let some random phone poll use my complex confusion and inability to commit as a check in their politically-preferred column.

And, it isn't just these big issues that throw me for a loop. A survey on a hotel stay is never without comment. A "how was everything" at a restaurant usually involves some commentary. Do I just like to hear myself talk? Not so much. I think it is more about my compulsive need to analyse and contemplate. And, perhaps there is a dash of my constant pursuit for perfectionism in there. I always want whatever it is to be striving for perfection, even though it is unattainable, you should still strive to achieve your best. So, go ahead...ask my opinion. But, don't expect a simple yes or no answer in response.

The State of Womenhood in America

These are actually sort of heartbreaking. You have probably seen them before. Really, I wish I watched them when I was like 12...and I should probably watch them once a day even now to remember what is real and what is, well...not.

To the women I love (okay, all you creepy freaks googling things like women who love women, I mean women I love as friends), I love you because you are you! The you, you--not the you you might want to be on the outside.






As for me, I will just keep obsessing about how fat I am.

Ever Done This?

Okay, I have once again ignored my blog for far too long. For the 64 or so of you who check in each week, keep checking as I will continue to try to update. I promise, I write many fabulous blog entries each morning in the shower, but before i can get them from my mind to the computer each day, things get in the way.

I have some great pictures and adventures to update you on, but no time for that now. It is Sunday night, I need to eat a big bowl of apple brown betty, get the kids in bed and change my closet to fall clothes. But, in the meantime, wondering if you have ever done this...or something similar.

This weekend, I was loading the kids up in the car to go to a little festival at the Peace Learning Center. I had been gone earlier in the morning playing tennis and had a very sweet, but young babysitter who fed the kids ice cream, Twizzlers, gum, popsicles and other forbidden fruits for breakfast while I was gone. I am so not kidding. And this is after I said, "I am making pancakes for lunch, so try to encourage them to eat a healthy breakfast that doesn't involve syrup (meaning--not a lot of sugar) like a bagel." That didn't go over too well, huh? Needless to say, everyone was totally wound up the rest of the day. Jeff was down south riding the Hilly Hundred, so it was just me and my crew.

They are all getting in the van in the garage when from inside the house, I hear Phillip rip into Samuel with the nastiest tone I have ever heard. Now, you should know that Phillip's rudeness to his siblings isn't new. It is a problem we have been working on. He is impatient, pushy, physical and down-right rude to them on a regular basis. I storm out the garage door, teeth clinched, finger pointed and yell--"If I hear that nastiness come out of that mouth one more time, I will fill it so full of soap you won't be able to talk for days. Do you understand me?"

On the me part, I hear my echo. Ooopps. I am in the garage, the door is open and the stillness of the fall air carries my voice at least two houses down. Great. Neighbors no doubt heard. The soap part, yes, we have done that--for biting (and for us, it worked). But the screaming, I am super embarrassed about, not to mention the fact that here I am screaming at him telling him not to scream at them. Oh the hypocrisy. Oh the embarrassment. Oh the shame. Ever been caught losing it? I hate that...I know someone heard for sure. I need to get my ass to the Peace Learning Center pronto, don't ya think?

I moved on. We went to the festival and had a great time. The mayor was there and while he was speaking, Phillip started talking to me kind of loud. "Phillip, we need to be quite and respect the mayor while he is talking, even if we don't like him." He turns to me and says, "I know you think he is a jack-a. I heard you call him that once." Acting surprised and oh so innocent, I said, "Me? Call him what?" He repeated and told me he heard it at my dad's house one time. Oh those little ears--the listen like crazy and never forget. Sounds like I need my mouth washed out.

Wow, Where Have I Been?

Where have I been? Let me see if I can fill you in (or at least start to fill you in).

It all started shortly after back to school night at Phillip's school. Soon there after, Phillip developed the first official cold of the season. I expected the other two wouldn't be far behind. But, on Tuesday of that week, Sam surprised me and woke up with pink eye. Oh joy.

We still had an inventory of eye drops left over from last year's on again/off again love affair with pink eye. I thought, no need to call the doctor. Pink eye is pink eye. We started treating with the drops. It almost immediately went away. But by bedtime that day, Andrew had it too. More drops (oh, he is fun with drops). Still no call to the doctor, what is the use? We know they have pink eye and she will just prescribe the drops.

We swear sometimes that the doctor's office is a racket. Now, she says she likes to see pink eye victims this young because at this age, they often simultaneously get ear infections. Well, I maintain, until someone complains about their ears, we are not going. More drops.

The next day, Phillip wakes up with pink eye. More dro..p...s....oh...no, the we are running out of drops. I send Jeff scamming to the pharmacy because I think we have a refill left on at least one. None. "I will fax the doctor," the pharmacists tells him. Oh no, I am dead. He told Jeff to check back later. She is going to kill me.

Sure enough, about two hours later, I get a phone call from the doctors office. I knew I was in for it. Here is how the conversation went--or really went, if we both would have said what we wanted to say. Name are changed to protect the innocent, of course.

Hello...

Hi this is "Mona" from Dr. Smith's office. We received a fax from the pharmacy that you need a refill on eye drops. What the f*#& is going on? You think you can just go to the pharmacy and try and get scrips filled without notifying us?

Well, I...uhm...we knew it was pink eye...and...um...the drops...we just...

Yeah, bi-atch. You just nothin. You think you can get treatment without paying your $30 per child co-pay?

But, it's pink eye and she said...

If they are sick, she wants to see 'em. You don't need to be guessing what is going on with anyone. What about their ears, hu? You gonna look in their ears too?

No..but, see...they are not "sick," they just have pink eye. They are fine, everyone is acting fine, they just have pink and crusty eyes, but they are fine. No one is complaining about their ears. No one is acting sick, I just thought...could she maybe refill some drops and we can see what happens? One is already better, really! Just three doses of drops and his eyes are clear. We were just going to give some things some time before we scheduled...

...See what happens? Is that what you do? See what happens? Wait until it is the weekend, they are running a fever and then take them to an immediate care center?

Okay. Never mind.

Damn straight, never mind. Good luck to you and your freaky family.


So, we didn't get more drops and now they know they are sick...er, uh have pink eye and if anything else develops, they will certainly be saying, "see...we told you so."

But, the eyes cleared quickly and then, Sam and Andy started in on the sneezing and coughing, congestion and whining. They were feeling lousy. Sam persevered and worked his way through it. A little bit of Tylenol and some Nyquil (children's strength) and he overcame. There were a few days he complained about his ears, but it passed.

Andrew was brewing something. By Friday, he was running a fever and totally congested--but nothing was coming out his nose. Well, those with kids know it has to come out somewhere. Phillip would always throw up when he had a bad cold, but Andrew had diarrhea. He was miserable. He wouldn't eat, sleep or blow his nose. By Friday afternoon, I found myself putting him to bed for the night at 4:30. I was ready stories when I noticed him rubbing his ears. I asked him if they hurt--he said no, it was his tummy that hurt.

I was perplexed, but grew concerned as he tossed and turned all night and burned up with fever. He almost threw up in the middle of the night (disaster averted) and woke up at about 5:15am unable to sleep anymore. He was miserable.

But, a birthday party for Samuel and Phillip was due to start in just a few hours. Cancel the party or have the party? By now, I had convinced myself he had something bacterial and had moved beyond the viral stage. The party could go on--it was scheduled for all outside anyway. But, I felt bad that Andrew wasn't going to be up for enjoying it.

I debated about what to do regarding the doctor. Could we wait until Monday? Did I really think he had an ear infection? Was it just a bug? Who would take him to the doctor (since I was in party-planner mode)? I decided he needed to go to immediate care. I concluded I thought he had an ear infection and decided if they could fix it with a quick visit and some antibiotics, he would be eternally grateful to us.

I called the triage nurse and got approval for the immediate care visit (oh, I love HMOs). Jeff got home, changed and headed that way with Andrew. Within 20 minutes, party guests started to arrive. The party was fun, but I had to slightly alter the agenda since Jeff wasn't there. Then, I lucked out and my friend Anne, the most fantastic photographer in the world, stayed and photographed the party. I am so lucky (oh, they will just turn out like yours, she said...ha!).

After an hour or so, Jeff returned. Double ear infection confirmed. Omnicef and some other loving tasting concoction to loosen things up. With just one dose, he slept all night. Monday, I had to call the pediatrician's office. I greeted them with, "Well, you were right, one of them had an ear infection."

I could hear the smile on the other end of the phone, "...oh, is that so? So I guess we need to schedule a recheck in a few weeks..." I guess so, I said.